Book Update

Outlandish Dread

I keep thinking Cold North is going to slow down, but apparently Viking werewolves don’t know how to “relax.” I mean, they’re under a centuries-long siege from basically-a-god, and even though the elementalist is telling them “I’m not the girl for you,” they still insist on thinking she’s the solution to the endless warfare.

It’s, uh, not going to end well. At least not for two and a half more books. Even then the ending’s going to be more “right” than “happy”, and I’m sure that will upset some people.

I have coffee sinking in, trying to make sense of everything. I’m listening to RJD2’s Ghostwriter on repeat, and I should really be doing some reformatting instead of sinking 80% of my working time into Cold North, which after all hasn’t even sold yet.

But…I can’t stop, and might as well strike while the iron is hot.

Yesterday was very social, with video meetings and mentoring. Consequently, this wee introvert is withdrawing into a cave for a few days to recharge–and Saturday is the second and final vaccine poke for both the Prince and my own sweet self. I’m scheduling a couple days of very low intensity work after that in case the side effects (physiological or otherwise) stage a comeback.

I’m sure the feeling of relief will be so deep as to completely wreck me. It did the first time around, naturally, and this wave will only be more intense. Maybe I’ll finish a zero draft in a blaze of inspiration, and finally get some of this book’s possession-grip loosened.

There’s also Hell’s Acre to work on, and the said reformatting, not to mention I should stick a third writing project in the queue just to keep myself producing at a reasonable rate. I normally have at least one romance going at a time, and the editor for Sons of Ymre wants Jake’s story. (I’m thinking it will involve a vet tech and Jake getting his ass bitten by not only regular animals but also chthonic horrors; if ever a character deserved it he does.)

But that decision’s for after the second jab. Until then I’ll be useless for anything but the Viking elementalist, werewolves, and elves banding together to reach a hidden city after one of the elvish strongholds in the North has undergone a sudden, dragon-assisted change of inhabitants and contours. If I’m focusing on their problems I’m not brooding over the million things that could go wrong before we get to the mass vaccination site in a few days’ time.

2020 taught me to twitch-worry at everything. I mean, I already did so before, but last year was like an Olympic masterclass. Absolutely nothing is too outlandish for me to dread.

And yet the dogs still need their walk, and someone’s running a leaf blower.

Yesterday it was some kind of grinding or cutting metal, from around 8am to about 4pm. It was coming from the direction of Mike’s Deck1 but there was no accompanying crashing or shouting, so I’m cautiously hopeful everything, er, went well. Of course, I can’t see anything, so it might be another house entirely.

The leaf blower is coming from an entirely different direction, and it’s just close enough to drag the noise over my nerves like a sawblade. Which means putting in earbuds, walking the dogs, and running my weary carcass will be not only good for said physical carcass but also my temper.

Said dogs are waiting patiently for me to stop staring at the glowing box and muttering imprecations upon leaf-moving devices yea unto the seventh generation, so I’d best get started.

Over and out.

Season of Headaches

Funny how a Large Company can ignore one for multiple years, but the instant one’s patience reaches an end and one starts asking, “Where do I send the invoice for my lost working time while dealing with this issue?”

…well, all of a sudden responses become very punctual indeed.

Especially after one highlights one’s hourly rate, as well as the fact that emails and messages are billed in quarter-hour increments and there are additional surcharges for repetition, not to mention aggravation.

Yes, I know this is tilting at windmills. Just call me quixotic.

There’s also been a rash of Reply Guys, mansplainers, Rando Calrissians, and Well Actuallys lately. I’m glad for Block Party on a daily basis anyway, but this just makes my appreciation hit new heights. Auto-muting randos is one of the great joys in life.

Fortunately, both projects currently taking the bulk of my writing time are growing organically. Hell’s Acre is climbing the trellis I had planned by leaps and bounds, acquiring muscle and nerve over bare bones. The protagonist is a bit cagey, of course–she didn’t want to tell me everything, suspecting (quite rightly) that I have plans of my own. But I have the benefit of patience.

Mostly.

As for Cold North, Sol and her shieldmaid just surprised me. Solveig clearly feels they’ll have no better chance to slip free of a very nasty fate, so she’s making her move. It won’t end the way she thinks it will, but it’ll be a lot of fun to watch, and honestly that’s the one thing keeping me going this morning.

Honestly, giggling behind my hand while thinking, “No, *character name*, this won’t end the way you think it will…” is one of the great joys in life. I wonder if the gods feel this way about us.

The dogs are patiently awaiting their walkies. I need to figure out how, exactly, a few things in either book will happen. My head’s a bit stuffy from the swiftly shifting barometric pressure–spring is the season of headaches, alas–and I can just tell any sunshine today will continue driving the inhabitants of this normally grey place quite mad indeed.

If I time it right, I might be able to run with some cloud cover. But I might as well put sunscreen on anyway; one never knows. I do have to think about the right way to do the next few scenes in Cold North, because an invisible hook for the rest of the story is hanging very close by and needs at least a few threads hung over it to get the entire thing to drape correctly. (60k+ in and we’re not quite halfway there…) And that kind of work is best done while moving, whether at an amble or a gallop.

I could do a whole post about the rhythm of walking or just plain moving jolting free plot points and the like, but that’s for another day. My coffee is still warm; I’d best finish it and move on.

Yet another day’s post: I hope that squirrel on the deck has decided to go elsewhere and stop tormenting Boxnoggin.

But I doubt it.

Over and out…

Monday, No Prisoners

Military woman 3
© Alainjuteau | Dreamstime Stock Photos

It’s not even 10:30 in the morning and already I am DONE with TODAY, thank you very much.

It wouldn’t be so bad if PayPal wasn’t being so awful. I live for the day that company either becomes a public utility or we get a good challenger for its market share. Now, I honestly don’t blame the customer service department for being awful–they’re overworked and paid a mere pittance, and they’re doing the best they can. But the CEO and assorted higher-ups? I BLAME THEM, CERTAINLY.

Anyway. I shouldn’t be getting this irritated before coffee. It’s not good for anyone.

I find myself in a take-no-prisoners mood more and more lately. Probably a function of being over forty, and a further function of surviving since 2016. I’m reaching the stage of being the cranky old hermit on the mountaintop that young heroes visit to get the movie-ending Secret Ultimate Move. “Yeah, go do this, it’ll make you able to split rocks with your pinkie, now LEAVE ME ALONE, KID.”

Both dogs are staring intently at me, ready for walkies. I’m hopeful for some rain today, but it doesn’t seem possible according to the weather report. (And now I have a Sting song in my head.)

On the bright side, the clouds mean productivity, and that I might not have to water as much. The sprinklers aren’t on yet, because I know as soon as that’s done we’ll be inundated. I might as well just lug around the hose–which Boxnoggin is very excited over. If it gets much warmer he might be allowed to chase a high-powered jet of hosewater, his very favorite thing. He forgets he’s not a puppy and catches serious air; the dog is obsessed with H20 at high volume and speed.

Miss B, of course, decides to hide behind me every time I get the hose out, on the theory that’s the safest place. Which means I have to be careful while watering, in case I step back and trip over her, landing flat on my back.

It’s happened before. Then she stands over me with a puzzled look like, “Mum, what are you doing on the ground? That’s not quite proper.”

I’m in such a state I don’t even have the day’s work swirling inside my head. I need to figure out what Solveig and the Northerners come across when they leave the secret passage, and there’s a fun third-person omni POV to write in Hell’s Acre. But at least I have the music for the day–Sting and Dvorak, the latter played by Jacqueline du Pré.

Somehow, I’ll muddle through.

The “walkies nao” beams from the dogs are reaching epic proportions. I should probably attempt tying my shoes, slathering on some sunscreen, and getting out the door. Maybe it’ll even help my mood.

Happy Monday, beloveds. Get the baseball bat, I’ll grab the machete, and we’ll make today bend to our will.

Exeunt, trailed by an evil laugh…

The Pile and Piranesi

Since some energy has freed up–i.e., the relief of everyone having at least the first vaccine shot means I’m not plunged in a whirlpool of worry every time someone in the house coughs–I’ve been getting more in the way of reading done. I had a stack of manga by my bed, which has been absorbed.1 Now the stack behind it can be approached.

Clarke’s Piranesi is at the top. I read it all in one gulp on a warm night earlier in the week, and am in the same position I was when I finished Kolyma Tales. In other words, I am envious of everyone who hasn’t read it yet, because it’s just so good. In fact, I’m reading it again, but more slowly. I don’t often do a twice-in-a-row–there’s been, I think, under ten books in my life I’ve even been tempted to–but I don’t want to leave it. I want to savor every single word all over again.

After that will come Price’s The Viking Way, which I promised myself I’d move to the top of the queue when I started earnest work on The Cold North. I can’t wait to get into it, but that will have to wait until I’m finished rolling around in Piranesi once more.

If this seems a rather small pile, don’t worry. It’s only the “next in queue” next to my bed. I have many more books to read. And isn’t that the definition of luxury? Many a book to read, and a bed to read them in.

Enjoy your weekend, beloveds. I’ll probably spend mine working, as usual, but I’ll certainly be taking some time to visit flooded hallways crowded with statues.

Not Quite Planned

Rain last night and a sunny morning; I can almost feel the grass stretching, not to mention the grapevines, the hop vine, and the salvia. I’m sure the foxglove out front is pretty happy too, and the blueberries appear to have taken transplanting well. I also woke up with Janet Jackson’s Black Cat in my head at high volume, so of course I had to listen to it and dance a bit before brekkie.

Yesterday was a complete, total, utter Monday. At least it lived up to its name; one has to admire the thoroughness with which some days set out to become annoyances. Oh, I have to admit Monday wasn’t bad; I got basic wordcount on both Hell’s Acre and Cold North.

But that wordcount was mostly me ripping out and redoing the architecture on a foundational scene so that things I plan for later in the serial have a proper footing. So I wrote about 1.2k, but deleted a good 800+ words, so it was fiddly, finicky work that felt like running in place. And of course after a couple of 4k+ days on Cold North, the characters are exhausted and I barely got 600 words out of them.

At least the latter were good words, and I know more about a certain character now. I think he’s got a thing for the heroine, but she’s oblivious and in any case they have plenty of problems, including escaping an elvish cave-city. The Valkyrie in the story is having a bit of a day, too. Fortunately she has a spear, and with a spear all her problems become things to be stabbed.

Funny how that works.

I don’t quite have today planned out yet. All I know is that the dogs need walking and I must run. Yesterday I burned off a lot of anxiety by hauling my carcass along at what passes for high speed–I am not anything approaching swift, mind you, but I can keep a steady pace just about forever. As long as the zombies aren’t sprinters I should do just fine. Then I think I’ll go through some more Hell’s Acre to make sure all the foundation-stones are in place before edging into new territory, and get everyone in Cold North ready to leave the damn city.

I do have revisions on Sons of Ymre to turn around in the next few months, but right now I’m going to work on fresh wordage rather than editing. I’ve spent the majority of my time recently in revision, and while I don’t really mind–it’s where a lot of magic happens–I still prefer the heat of creation.

Both dogs are slumped in a rare sunbeam coming through my office window; mornings are often cloudy and the cedars along the back fence generally block any direct glare this time of day. It’s rare for them to be able to bask, and they’re enjoying every moment of it. Still, the instant I shift to take my empty coffee cup into the kitchen and lace up my shoes, they’ll be beside themselves with glee and anticipation.

I have only a few more minutes of quiet left before that, and I plan to use them breathing deeply. See you around, beloveds.

Hellebores and Chorin’

So far Monday hasn’t been its usual sweet self, but then again, neither have I. At least the hellebores are still blooming.

Half the weekend was spent working despite my best efforts; I meant to take it completely off and get a bunch of chores done but 4k of Cold North fell out of my head. One of the elves brought the heroine a gift with teeth, and I just had to see how that worked out.

Sometimes, when a story heats up, one’s required to put everything else aside and get it out of one’s aching head. Come Sunday, though, I had to get some damn chores out of the way.

So I did, and read a lot of manga. I finished Amu Meguro’s Honey So Sweet series, which was a lovely palate cleanser; then I started on the kids’ Rurouni Kenshin collection. For years, I used to take the kids to Borders (now closed, sadly) and they got one or two manga every time; as a result, they’ve quite the mountain of right-to-left reading. Years of the kids excitedly telling me everything about the stories at the dinner table mean it’s like meeting old friends. They can talk for hours about plot points, ins and outs, and character motivations; I love listening.

I like manga a bit more than anime; I’ve always liked reading more than just about anything else. The kids are fond of Yu Yu Hakusho in anime form, and if I ever got around to watching it I’m sure I’d recognize everyone just from the descriptions I’ve gotten during dinner.

As a result of dipping my toe into the manga waters again, the Princess is reading Hellsing once more, and the Prince is watching a new anime he’s going to give us all a rundown of at the dinner table. I’m sure the kids will argue about the difference between Hellsing‘s manga and anime form, and I will once again mutter about Vampire Hunter D.

Goodness, that takes me back. Wow.

In any case, I also got a chunk of chorin’ done, including sweeping the garage and taking a swipe at the car upholstery. Miss B got a bath once the Princess got home–she was furious, of course. The funniest thing about bath days is about an hour after the washing is done, when Miss B is still damp but doesn’t remember quite why, she only suspects something dreadful happened and is determined to express her displeasure through interpretive dance around my feet.

She gets many a pet, pat, and treat to make up for the horror of being bathed, poor thing. And of course Boxnoggin needs a brushing (his skin gets irritated with too much bathing; he is a very slick-coated fellow) and many a pet, pat, and treat as well. He loves bath days–unless it’s time for him to get in the tub.

That was the weekend; now it’s Monday again, and neither the day nor I are quite ready for it. I’ll be all right once I have a run under my belt and a few moments to fall into a story. Not quite sure what’s going to happen in Cold North today, but I know precisely what Hell’s Acre needs next, and that’s a very tired heroine learning the rooftops of an alt-historical Victorian London.

She might even make a few friends, or at the very least, engage in combat with a very surprised hero.

And of course when I get to bed tonight there’s a nice big omnibus of Rurouni Kenshin to make my way through. It’s something to look forward to; I’ve just got to survive Monday’s attempts to shake me from its back. And I should water those hellebores.

I think today’s run will sink my teeth firmly into the day’s ruff, and once that happens I’m impossible to get rid of.

Off I go, then. Wish me luck.

Sunny Spring, and a New Serial

I usually do a Friday photo, but this is a special week. I just got the covers for the next serial after HOOD, along with this shiny graphic to announce its advent. Pretty neat, right? The covers are from the inimitable IndigoChick Designs; I love Skyla’s work.

HOOD1 will finish in May, and subscribers in the relevant tiers will get the unedited and edited ebooks of Season Three for free2. I’ll take the last week of May off, then Nest Egg and Serial Time subscribers will be able to automagically dive right into the first season of Hell’s Acre starting in June.

I describe Hell’s Acre as “alt-Victorian Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate mixed with The Da Vinci Code in a world where the Roman Empire didn’t fall to Christianity or the Vandals”, so there’s a whole lot I’m excited to play with. Fans of Bannon & Clare will like the return to a London of steampunk and grime, though there will be no sorceresses3.

Hell’s Acre should run in two seasons; I have (for once) something approaching an outline. Of course the tale will grow in the telling, as it always does, and I’m already finding out things I didn’t know about the characters. It’s nice to be in the joy-of-discovery phase instead of the revision phase.

And with that I’m off to spend a Friday writing, beloveds. I’m very excited for what the next few months will bring, which is a super nice change from last year. I hope you have a fine weekend; I intend to spend mine writing and watering, since we’re having a sunny spring indeed.