VEIL KNIGHTS News!

WELL. Do I have news for you, my darlings? I do, I do!

It’s official, I’m going to be writing a book for the Veil Knights series! It’s King Arthur meets urban fantasy, with bonus scavenger hunt. A bunch of really cool writers are banding together under the name Rowan Casey to bring you all sorts of delicious fun in a brand-new universe.

The bad news is, I can’t tell you which one I’m writing. I am Pinkie-Sworn to Secrecy, because there’s going to be a contest after Season 1 ends to see if people can match the book to the author. I’m sure my darling Readers, being the smartest around, will utterly smoke that competition, right?

To sweeten the deal, the first in the series, The Circle Gathers, is $.99 on Kindle right now.

Three years ago, Jessie “the Berserker” Noble was at the top of the MMA fight game, a world-title contender with a brilliant future ahead of her. Then the visions started and her world came crashing down. Hard. Now she’s a shadow of her former self, taking fights in the underground circuit to earn just enough to buy the drugs she needs to keep the horrible hallucinations at bay.

When a man named Dante Grimm tells her she’s the modern incarnation of a champion of old and that she and her soon-to-be companions are desperately needed to hold back the darkness to come, Jessie thinks he’s as insane as she is. But Grimm’s far from crazy. There is a battle coming the likes of which the world hasn’t seen in centuries, a battle against a foe straight out of their worst nightmares.

And for them to succeed, Jessie going to have to dive deep into the heart of the very thing she’s been running from all this time…

You’ll probably want to pick it up, so you can get a bead on the whole deal. It is Amazon-only, but the publishers are paying fairly and I get to work with a lot of people I like, so I jumped at the chance. I can’t wait to hear what you think!

Little Odd Troubles

WHY YES, I AM IN A MOOD TODAY. How could you tell?

Part of it is the wind. When I lived in Wyoming, one expected it, but up here, a constant stream of rushing air is a little less tolerable. Normally I quite enjoy it, like the sound of rain, but last night Odd Trundles woke me up every. two. hours. with a combination of “SOMEFING HIT DE ROOF, IMMASCAIRT!” and “I THINK I NEED TO PEE. MOM? MOM, I THINK I NEED TO PEE.” Naturally, as soon as I struggled out of bed and shrugged into my robe, Odd decided he really didn’t want to leave his nice warm crate at all, even if Miss B, cranky after the second or third episode, got her snoot in there to try and drag him forth.

So yeah. I’m cranky as fuck-all too, today.

*time passes*

I love this weird, yeasty little dog, I really do. And proof of it is, even as sleep-deprived as I am, I still rush to comfort him when one of his legs stops working and he freaks out. Bulldogs have weird neurological and spinal things because they’re so corkscrewed. Occasionally, if Odd moves wrong, something goes haywire and one of his back legs either goes numb or won’t respond, and this scares the little fellow so much that without instant soothing, he has one of his seizures. Thankfully, I was right next to him, and if I don’t freak out he’ll stay calm. It takes a steady voice, gentle hands, and a little pressure in particular places to short-circuit the seizures, almost like an interpretive dance. Miss B, anxious to help, almost precipitated the seizure afresh by attempting to grab his leg and MAKE it work for him, so that was an interesting few minutes. Now he’s resting comfortably with a peanut-butter-smeared muscle relaxer to make sure he stays loosened up.

My heart is still pounding. If someone would have told me the things I’d do to keep a rescue bulldog functioning, I’m not sure I would have believed it. On the bright side, there’s generally a clear-cut fix for everything that ails him, and while I’m focusing on his little troubles I’m not thinking about the current on-fire state of the country. So there’s that.

I need some tea. It’s Thursday, so another chapter of Roadtrip Z is up at my Patreon; the first part is still available for free! When we reach the next Patreon goal I’m going to vlog a reading from Steelflower, pronunciations and all. There’s some other exciting news I can’t talk about just yet, but I’m working on three deadlines at once right now, so that gives you an inkling.

Off I go to brew more caffeine, just to keep myself upright until I can crawl back into bed tonight. Hopefully both Odd and I will be exhausted enough to sleep the whole way through.

Agility Stats

This morning I dragged Odd Trundles out for walkies right after his brekkie. He was quite put out, not only because this represented a Change in Routine, but also because it cut into his morning “I’m bored, let’s do something!” bitching. So he hung back and tried to wrap the leash around my legs, which meant Miss B got her nose down and started heeeeerding him, which tangled her leash around my legs, and…yeah. Fortunately my agility stats are still going strong.

I also used 5calls and actually got through to a very nice staffer in my Congresscritter’s office. Said Congresscritter is a Republican I’ve voted against every. damn. time., but she’s working for me and I might as well make my voice heard. Please, if you’re calling, be kind to the staffers on the phone! They’re usually unpaid interns doing a shit job with grace and patience, so be polite. It helps to have a script, too. Even if you don’t use it, having a flowchart script of what to say can get you over the bump.

Now that the dogs are relatively calm (Miss B will need an afternoon ramble, just to be safe) I can focus on Afterwar. And Roadtrip Z. And bonus wordcount for a Sekrit Projekt I’m aaaaaaalmost ready to announce. ALMOST. Stay tuned for that.

Here’s your usual daily reminder to hydrate, make sure you get something to eat, and take a few deep breaths. It feels like the world is burning down, it’s okay to feel like screaming, none of what’s going on politically now is “normal” or “sane” except the resistance to der Turmper. You’ve got to take care of yourself and keep yourself human, you have a right to do that. I offer you a hug, and the knowledge that you’re not alone.

Also, schnorgles from Odd. Just look at that face. (And that seasonal alopecia!)

Give the Bitch a Good Show

Using the phone generally makes me so anxious I shake. I’m now using 5Calls, though, because daily superhero work doesn’t have to fray me at the edges so badly. So, if you have phone anxiety, like me, and also want to make a difference–again, like me!–I recommend checking it out.

The weekend was all about proof pages for Cormorant Run, hauling compost to all the garden boxes (shovelgloving saved my back, I’ll just say that much) and washing Odd Trundles since it wasn’t cold enough outside to justify letting him marinate longer.

Oh, yeah, and watching the attempted coup and concomitant constitutional crisis. We are living in interesting times, indeed. A rug-headed pig-eyed Cheeto with a Russian dictator’s hand up his rump–and a Nazi on record as wanting to destroy America running his National Security Council–is already killing people. It’s only going to accelerate from here, my friends.

I am clinging to hope by finger-and toenails. We outnumber the fascists by an order or two of magnitude. History’s gaze is upon us, and I intend to give the bitch a good show. It’s kind of funny to realize that every book I’ve ever written has been training for fighting evil, training for radical empathy, training for putting my head down and doing the goddamn work to make things better, to create a world. Often, looking at the news, I feel helpless, but then someone writes to tell me I’ve given them hope and my heart turns into a flower. Or someone writes to tell me they’re never buying my books again because of my politics, and I think, well, if you have problems with me calling a fascist a fucking fascist, I’m glad your grubby little authoritarian fingers won’t sully pages I’ve slaved over and bled for, fuckyouverymuch and goodnight.

There’s a lot of the latter going on.

So this week it’s back to the grindstone, making my calls every day, and if I get a certain number of wordage in, hitting up a yarn store. I feel the need for a pussy hat. And knitting might help keep me from imploding in a black hole of despair, too.

Use what you have, I guess. Here’s your regular daily reminder that this shit is not normal, your feelings are valid, and together we are stronger than any tiny-handed dictator.

Over and out.

CORMORANT RUN Cover Reveal!

The nice folks over at Orbit have revealed the cover for my upcoming homage to Soviet sci-fi, Cormorant Run. Isn’t it shiny?

Aliens meets Under the Dome in this new post-apocalyptic novel from New York Times bestseller Lilith Saintcrow.

It could have been aliens, it could have been a trans-dimensional rift, nobody knows for sure. What’s known is that there was an Event, the Rifts opened up, and everyone caught inside died.

Since the Event certain people have gone into the drift… and come back, bearing priceless technology that’s almost magical in its advancement. When Ashe the Rat — the best Rifter of her generation — dies, the authorities offer her student, Svinga, a choice: go in and bring out the thing that killed her, or rot in jail.

But Svin, of course, has other plans…

On sale in June 2017, now available for preorder at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Be Okay

I was on a long ramble with B, and came across this a few miles from home. This little tree is just outside the front of an elementary school. I don’t know who decorated it, but it was dolled up in time for Yule, through New Year’s, and through the Snowpocalypse too.

I can’t explain the deep flash of hope and happiness that went through me when I saw it. Miss B, of course, was only interested in sniffing around the roots, but I stood there with my eyes full of tears for a few minutes, somehow certain things were going to be okay.

Funny what a few silly ornaments and childlike wonder will do, ennit.

Morning Clipping

Today is for yoga, extra caffeine, and clipping Odd Trundles’s nails. The first is likely to be a bit painful, the second exceedingly enjoyable, and the third, well, that’s my cardio for the day.

Odd is sixty-plus pounds of bulldog, and he hates his bath and nail-clippings with a passion. The bath he will submit to, because he loves me and suffers much for me, but nails are a Step Too Far. Which means the grooming hook comes out, the Princess is pressed into service to put him in various wrestling holds, and the entire process is accompanied by much swearing under my breath. If he would just stay still we could have it done in under five minutes and he could get his treat and go on with his day, but noooooo, he has to wriggle, complain, and generally be a bad sport about it.

I don’t blame him, he can’t help himself. Before we got the grooming hook clipping him was an all-day extravaganza of chasing, whining, frustration, and peanut butter. Now, it’s just fifteen minutes of swearing and tussling, and a little bit of peanut butter at the end.

*time passes*

I wandered out to get more coffee and found the Princess was up and had breakfasted, so we got out the grooming hook and I spent ten minutes dragging Odd out of his bed in my office. He suspected something along the lines of Bathing or Other Unpleasantness was coming, and I had to upend the damn thing to get him out, then carry him (he went limp, passive resistance style, and oh my GOD does this dog weigh a tonne) to the table. The Princess held and cooed to him while I contorted myself, swore just a little and very softly, and we both comforted him as I clipped away. Better to do two small cuts than try for a big one and hit the quick, even if he hates every second of it.

Once Odd figured out the Princess wasn’t going to let go, he went limp again. Which made things both easier and more difficult at once. He’s just talented like that.

Afterwards, treats and a quick trip outside to pee, and now he is exhausted, licking his chops, hoping for more treats…and has completely forgotten about the grooming hook and his nails. I’d say he’s forgiven me, but it’s clear he just doesn’t remember anything other than “there were little bits of snackables involved.” His twin neurons are occupied with breathing in and breathing out, with a fraction of each channeled into longing for a couple more bits of dehydrated liver or something. *shudder* I know dogs are carnivores, and entrails are high-value, but I just cannot understand why anyone would ever eat another creature’s filter.

So if you’ve ever wondered about the romance of a writer’s life, just know that most of it involves wrestling with something that loves you very much but it not quite the brightest bulb in the marquee, desperately trying to contort to groom said beast in the gentlest manner possible. I am sweating, sucking on more coffee, and aching from bending in a few ways I no longer am quite young enough for. Yoga’s gonna be great today, I can just tell.

Thus concludes the thrilling tale of the Morning Clipping of Odd Trundles’s Nails. Which, I am sure, has been just as fascinating for you as it was athletic for me. Tuesday can only get better.

*sips coffee, does deep breathing*