neato keano

Audio ROADTRIP, and FINDER!

Well, isn’t this a banner Tuesday?

I’m pleased and proud–as punch, as Lee would say–to announce that Roadtrip Z is now in audio! Narrated by the amazing Erin deWard, the adventures of Ginny, Lee, Juju, and the gang are now available in a silken voice, ready to slip into your ear-holes. Cotton Crossing and In the Ruins are both available now; Pocalypse Road and Atlanta Bound are forthcoming.

I don’t often go back to previous work, but last night I got down the omnibus. Paging through it, I just had to smile; Lee is just so Lee and Ginny is so damn Ginny, and Juju’s the absolute best. Of course I couldn’t tell a zombie story without a dog and a road trip, either.

I do have some free audiobook codes, and if I can scrape together the energy newsletter subscribers and other patrons will get a chance to win a few.

But that’s not all the news I have for you today, my beloveds. Oh, no indeed.

You guys have seen bits of Finder’s Watcher here and there; my subscribers have, of course, seen more. I am also pleased and proud to report that the latest Watchers book (my goodness, we’re up to six now) has a cover, and will release on August 21, 2020.

He’s not the only one watching her…

For years Jorie Camden has been quietly helping her police friends pursue cold cases, and she’s paid the price over and over again, her talent for Finding stretched to the limit. Now something different is stalking the streets, taking children—something old, and foul, and Dark. The cops won’t admit there’s a problem, so what can a Lightbringer do but solve the mystery on her own?

Caleb is a Watcher of Circle Lightfall, and his mission is simple: protect the witch he’s assigned to—the witch who just happens to be able to touch him without causing agonizing pain. It’s his one shot at redemption, and it’ll take every weapon he has, plus his willingness to play dirty. Even if his witch seems to be chasing something no one can see.

Yet something Dark is indeed in their city. And now that it’s aware of pursuit, it has plans for Jorie and her talent—plans not even Caleb might be able to stop…

The preorder links are coming up as I type this (Amazon, Kobo, B&N, Google, and Apple) and there will be a paperback release too. As soon as I have the links for the latter I’ll update the series page.

It’s been a long, difficult time getting this book to print; I couldn’t be happier that we’ve finally done it. Now, of course, I need to be thinking about the next one… but that’s for another day.

I woke up pretty down about the state of the world, but there are good things happening right now too. I have to keep telling stories or I’ll drown; hopefully, said stories will provide other people with a little relief.

And as usual, there’s dogs to walk and maybe a run to get in, though the latter might take a back seat to a nap. I don’t feel rested at all, and there’s miles yet to go today.

I suppose I’d best get started, then.

Blurry Snail

It was a Morning–Boxnoggin shimmied out of his harness and went walkabout, and that was just the FIRST thing to go pear-shaped–so the Friday photo is a little late this week, but better that than never, right?

We had beautiful, glorious, life-giving rain yesterday, and I got this (blurry, for which I apologize) snap of a snail on the deck steps. People who move to the PNW are Not Prepared for the damp, the moss getting everywhere–and I do mean everywhere–or the slugs. We didn’t have snails at the old place, but we had plenty of the houseless gastropods. Still not sure whether I like the change, despite the rich associations riding the spiral shells.

I meant to get some writing in today, but all my energy’s gone towards staying upright and not going back to bed. Time to shut everything off and just sit quietly for a few minutes, until the energy–and the will to go on–pools back in my palms and starts spinning out my fingers again.

I hope you have a lovely weekend, dear Reader.

Rock Possibilities

I saw this little fellow again while on walkies with Very Excited Dogs yesterday. The painted rocks move around the neighborhood in odd patterns; I half suspect someone knows I’m keeping an eye on them and moves them just to say hello. Or, you know, the rocks are moving of their own accord.

Of course the real reason is that the people who paint them are trading them, and people who like them are moving them around like goods in an economy. But I wouldn’t be much of a writer if I didn’t consider the other possibilities.

And, of course, there’s the fact that this particular stone seems to be following me. While I’m not sure about the “stay positive” message–unfounded optimism tends to give me the hives, not to mention the willies–I can get behind the “laugh” bit.

I’m waiting for everything to reach the pitch of absurdity that makes me break down in helpless laughter. That’s generally when I know I’m going to be all right. It’s taking a while, though–there’s nothing laughable about current national events, and indeed there rarely is. Rather, I start laughing at the absurdity of my own personal life.

Sooner or later I’ll get there, I’ll hear that peculiar internal snap, and the giggles will flood free. It’ll feel like lancing a boil, a painful relief, and I’ll know I’m going to be okay.

It might even be the next time I see this damn painted rock, so I suppose I’d best get out the door with the dogs soon. Whoever daubed it knew what they were doing.

And, since this is a Friday, I’m curious. Do you get the giggles when you snap too, dear Reader? What happens when you reach the end of your rope and fetch up against the knot? When do you know you’re going to be okay again? Tell me.

I’m all ears. And, apparently, amusement.

Spring’s Lady

My writing partner had a blood lily that made a whole new bulb, so she gave me the new one. Since then it’s died back every midwinter and returns every spring.

I was feeling rather down last week (really, weren’t we all) until I noticed a tiny green nubbin. Which meant it was time to make sure the potting soil was good, and also time to bend over the pot nightly and whisper encouragement. Things like you’re going to grow so well this year and I’m so happy to see you and would you like to hear a story about a small green thing just like you?

Somehow, despite all the flowering outside, spring never feels really real until this lady returns. Now here she is, ready for another season.

May we all be as quietly resilient.

Soundtrack Monday: Chrysalis Heart

There were a lot of songs on the Incorruptible playlist. (I am now hearing Pete Puma say “a whoooooole lotta lumps.”) But pride of place for that particular book has got to be taken by Delerium’s Chrysalis Heart.

I listen to a lot of Delerium while writing. Sometimes it’s just background, but other times a song will slide through my ears and pierce the throbbing heart of a story, and this was one of those times. I had Michael Gabon first, of course, Jenna had to hang back and see if she could trust me before she’d consent to let a few scenes be told from her point of view.

Reliably, though, I could pop some Delerium on, wait for this particular track, and Jenna would come creeping softly like a stray cat from her hiding place. Patience was rewarded, for once–give her time, Michael kept saying, but dammit, I had a book to write.

In any case, I’m trying to shoehorn another Legion book in this year’s schedule. There’s a certain sassy EMT who knows to keep her mouth shut when strange things happen, and I think a certain Decurion’s going to stumble across her. Those two just need to marinate a little longer before I can find their through-line, I think.

In the meantime, enjoy the tunes.

Giveaway, and Other Monday

Good morning, chickadees! It was a long weekend, and one I’m not quite sure I made it through intact. But I did get to settle on the couch with a book on contesting orthodoxy in the medieval and early modern era, so there’s that.

And we have a new giveaway! This month it’s for two signed, personalized Strange Angels/Betrayals bind-ups, copies of which I have signed I can count on one hand. It’s also out of print, which makes it even more rare. There will be two winners, and of course, newsletter subscribers got first crack at it. But now you, too, can enter–and multiple times to up your chances, too. It is worldwide, but media mail–I can’t afford quicker postage, so it will take a wee bit for your book to get to you.

It’s been warmer than usual for the past couple days, which the dogs have liked. At least, Boxnoggin, being a slick-coated fellow, has liked it; Miss B doesn’t mind since she’s got her lovely undercoat to keep her warm or cool as the situation demands.

It’s a holiday, so I’m moving rather slowly. Said dogs need their walkies, and I should probably stretch out a bit and get ready for a week that will be full of yet more revision madness. I’m prepping Season Two of HOOD for eventual publication, and I have a couple new tools to do it with. This time around I’m going to try proofing in PDF instead of on paper, which I’m sure will be a barrel of fun for all involved. I have the iPad, the pencil, and the app for doing it; I’m hoping it will be enough like paper that I can actually see the errors.

Proofing on something in my lap, with a pencil clutched firmly in hand, is vastly different than proofing on my desktop screen. Each way I see different errors; I’m pretty sure it engages vastly different parts of the brain. If this particular strategy works, trad publishers will be overjoyed at not having to send me paper proofs; if it doesn’t, well, at least I tried.

I suspect I’m going to say “at least I tried” a lot this year. There are worse fates.

And now it’s time for said walkies with said canines. They’ve been very patient, but Miss B has her nose on my knee, so I suspect her remaining patience is of short duration.

I suspect that will be a theme for this year as well. Looking forward to it. Happy Monday, my friends!

Leek Iteration

I love potato-leek soup for many reasons, not least of which is this little science experiment. It’s close to magic, and every time I walk by the kitchen window, I am reminded of the deep, abiding fuck you inherent in all earthly life, clinging on the surface or in the crevices of an insignificant rock whirling through space in a backwater galaxy.

The kids are making “Leek 2.0” jokes. I haven’t told them about why leeks figure heavily in fertility magic, though. They can figure that one out on their own.

If you’re reading this, you’ve beaten tremendous odds already, and there will never be another you in all of eternity. Every once in a while, contemplating that–the uniqueness, the fragility, and the deep endless strength of life–makes me feel very small, very awed, and very unreasonably happy.

Not bad for a leek that also gave me soup.