It’s too bloody hot. Even Boxnoggin thinks so, and he’s from Texas. Of course, he’s been with us for four years now–we just passed the official anniversary–so by now he’s an honorary Pacific Northwester except for the hating rain bit, but I’m sure a lot of people who otherwise love it here dislike the rain.
It’s odd, but there it is.
We’re lucky in that we can close up the house, shaded by the firs, and turn on the heat pump’s AC function. It manages to keep things on the edge of livable, especially with opening the house in the very early morning to let some cool air in. The mercury just isn’t dipping enough at night to provide the relief we need, though. We should be back to more-reasonable weather by Monday.
Which seems a long way away.
I’m simply hunkering down, trying to ignore the draining lassitude, and taking deep breaths. An edit letter just recently landed, and we all know how those go. I’m in my week-of-processing-feels, and it may extend past seven days proper. I could go on a rant about the things people are getting wrong about this book, but it would serve no purpose. I have the week-plus rule for a good reason; it’s just hard to keep my mouth shut sometimes. When I calm down things will look better, or at least different. And I can’t be sure the bloody weather isn’t part of my ire.
All of this means that instead of three projects I’m now focusing on two, since the third needs to wait for revisions to be done before it can move forward. The silver lining is that Sons of Ymre 2 is going along great guns, 4k written yesterday alone. The heroine is finally at the temple, the hero is figuring out what the hell, and everything’s about to go haywire in the best mounting-tension way. I’m particularly pleased by the damage done to the hero; he deserves every inch of it, and is well on his way to redeeming himself. And I shook loose the next scene in Hell’s Acre, which had been resisting me until I finally threw up my hands and went walking down the hall in frustration.
Sometimes it just takes physical movement to jolt things free. Today’s run, if I don’t expire of heatstroke, will probably provide even more.
At least That Damn Werelion Book has preorder links up for the paperback, finally. (Amazon link here if B&N isn’t your cuppa.) Amazon won’t let indie authors put up preorder links for Kindle if you’re not selling through KDP; it’s one of the ways they attempt to lock us in for better shearing. Gumroad has turned off their preorder function, which is a huge bother because dammit, I needed that, and Payhip is working on theirs but doesn’t have it yet. Although Payhip does say one can do preorders with a placeholder file, as long as one uploads the proper file on release day. I’m still thinking about whether or not I want to work it that way.
You’d think these distribution platforms wanting to profit off a writer’s work would make preorders easier, but unfortunately greed (in the case of Amazon) and whatever-the-hell (in the case of others) seems to win out every time. Eventually things will shake out, I’m sure. But it’s irritating as all get-out.
And again, I can’t be sure how much of my vexation is my body’s sensitivity to heat. Ever since that one horrid episode in San Diego (I should’ve been hospitalized, but who can afford that in America? Not I, my friends…) I’ve been peculiarly vulnerable to temperatures above 80F. This is a misery. Other parts of the country–let alone the world–have it worse, though, so I am counting my (slightly sweat-soaked) blessings.
I suppose I should finish my coffee and get out the door for Boxnoggin’s walk while the temperature is still reasonable. The sooner Lord van der Sploot’s ramble is accomplished, the sooner I can hit the pavement for my own exercise and think about the conversation Lord Cassel is going to have with his pretty, vivacious, terrified, and treacherous (for good reason) wife. I had to cut away from a gangfight for this scene, and it will provide a good structural caesura before coming back. Then the book needs a deep breath before the plunge.
I have the next serial after Hell’s Acre decided upon, and I’m beginning to feel the itch to poke at it. It’s not time yet, but I can think about it, at least. Blocking out some of the combat scenes will help, though they’ll necessarily change when the actual writing happens. All in all, I’ve a lot of work to do.
Which is just the way I like it, no matter the weather. Stay frosty, my beloveds, and be gentle with yourselves.
See you around.