The Un-Tattooed Lady

Saturday. Sunny. Predicted to be much warmer than yesterday, so the windows are, sadly, closed, and we're on station air.

Breakfast was half a blueberry muffin and cottage cheese. Lunch is as yet undecided. I have pork chops that I need to bake, so I could do that at lunchtime, rather than this morning, and freeze two, instead of three. That might actually be the way to go. Turkey burger chili can happen tomorrow, when the 'beans are calling for really hot, and I will definitely be hibernating in the coolth.

Other chores on the day include answering emails, taking the clean dishes out of the dishwasher, swapping out the cat fountains, one's duty to the cats, taking a walk, doing back exercises, and, well, writing.

Since my best writing time is between lunch and coon cat happy hour (and, if I'm honest, after coon cat happy hour til, oh, 10-ish, but I really don't think I'd better go Fully Nocturnal; things are weird enough around here), the Current Plan is to clear chores/appointments in the morning, and after lunch, to write, even if the chores aren't done. There will, after all, always be chores.

Speaking of chores, I Have Viewed How-Tos on YouTube and am confident that I can keep the shower and surrounding bathroom up to spec without killing myself, so *that's* good. God She knows that I have vacuum cleaners. And dust cloths. The only thing that's still a Puzzle are the basement stairs. I think I can handle the cordless vac on the terrain, but there was something amiss with the cordless vac, pre-BaltiCon, which I will have to investigate, now that I'm home.

. . . and John Fogerty has just informed the Listening Audience of Classic Vinyl that "Down on the Corner," was inspired by Winnie the Pooh, whom he imagined busking on a city corner with his band, Winnie and the Pooh Bears. Strange man, John Fogerty.

I do believe that's All The News.

What music are you listening to this morning?

Today's blog post brought to you by War, "Low Rider."

BUSINESS FIRST: The Uncle wishes everyone to know that there are still signed copies of Diviner's Bow available from his website. Signed books make wonderful gifts!

The preview is showing Fair Trade because the link takes you to a catalog page where all signed Lee-and-Miller editions are gathered into one happy place.

Here's the link.

#

Wrote +/-1060 very drafty words, which I am not adding to the Official Count until the scene is finished. Which it ain't.

So, questions on Tali's preferred brush. It's called a Safari brush, and is a soft, two-sided rubber brush. There are Tricks to using it. I use the brush, then I take a towel and just smooth it over the cat to get the last of the loose fur out. Tali likes both the brush and the toweling, which are both very gentle operations.

What's so special about dumplings? someone asks. No, not Bisquick dumplings. Chinese steamed dumplings, stuffed with chicken, or pork, or veggies, or combinations thereof. There are also sweet fillings available, but today I went with the savory -- chicken and mushroom. Very good; I expect I'll be a return customer.

The food truck court is right around the corner from a house that Steve and I seriously considered buying, Some Time Back.  We decided that a house that had three steps between the kitchen and the dining room, and three steps from the living room to the bedroom, one step from the bedroom to the bathroom, and two steps down to the sunroom, might not be so good if one of us got sick. Nice house in many ways, including having a separate office wing,  and an attached garage, but the stairs were a deal-breaker. But, man, what a location, twelve years down the road.

In more personal news, Ashley has left me; she has discovered that she's allergic to cats. This means I'll be doing my own housework (poor writer; like she hasn't been doing her own housework for 50 years), which isn't necessarily a Completely Bad Thing. I'd been looking for stuff to hang a Schedule on, after all.

Also! I will be taking a Social Media Free Day tomorrow in order to Concentrate on the WIP. For those who worry about me not having enough fun, I do have turkey burgers, and buns, and baked beans, so that I can be appropriately festive.

Everybody stay safe; those who are picnicking or otherwise celebrating -- have fun!

Let's check in with each other on Saturday.

What went before: Oof.

I wasn't feeling 100 percent when I got up this morning, late but not rested after a very mixed sleep. My knee hurt, my back hurt, my hands hurt, yada, yada, poor writer.

Anyhoots, I thought I'd shake it off, and went, slightly groggy, about my business, including going to the grocery store, and getting gas, and visiting the local pet store. Came home, put everything away, made something -- oh, veggie stir fry -- for lunch, and still felt lousy.

So, I picked up Rookie, who happened to be on my lap, and carried him with me to the bedroom, where we had a lovely and refreshing two hour hap.

I cannot praise Rookie's nursing skills enough. He immediately donned his professional aspect, walked around the top of the bed, laid down on my stomach to make sure I was flat to the mattress, then came 'round and snuggled into the side of my neck, purring until I went to sleep.

I feel less achy, and I've done the dishes and other chores, so the plan is to go to the needlework group, come home, serve up happy hour and my own supper, go to bed early, and see if I can't do some writing tomorrow.

How's Tuesday treating everybody?

#

Wednesday. Cloudy and going to be warm. Feeling much better today.

Breakfast was half an anything bagel with cream cheese and a side of grapes. Drinking my first cup of tea. Lunch will be something to do with chicken breasts.

The only hard thing on the schedule is a visit with the chiropractor in about an hour. Nothing after that until... Monday? And of course Tuesday is the Gala Celebration of Rookie's Gotcha Day.

In theory, therefore, I have four-and-a-half days to write. That sounds promising, even -- exciting. I have a couple scenes, as yet unconnected, that I want to sketch in, and also a continue on the narrative as it stands. This book could be more complicated. OTOH, this is more or less how Salvage Right went together, so the nut hasn't fallen far from the tree.

I've thinking off and on about the conversations I've had recently about colleagues who have resorted to reading genre romance in order to up the romance in their sf/f novel, or! to figure out What Women Want, in terms of a hero -- and why that makes me ... uneasy.

And, I think I've finally figured that out. The problem is that genre romance has its Conventions, as does sf/f. One of those is: The Relationship Drives The Plot. The characters may have other problems, other friends, and, yanno, A Life, but the primary problem that must be solved is how are the lovers going to (1) get together and (2) go forward. You don't, mind, have to SEE them go forward, but it has to be implicit in the HEA that commitment has been achieved and the partners will be going forward together.

A romance writer who is doing her job, therefore, makes certain that the Love Scenes (be they hot or be they sweet) move the characters toward their HEA. They are not only tied to the plot, they are drivers, and there's a reason they unfold as they do.

SF/F has a long-held Convention that states the Big Problem must be solved at all costs: love and life not being exempt. Love scenes still ought to happen For A Reason, as all scenes no matter the genre ought to happen For A Reason, but the romance and the resolution of the relationship are very, very seldom the primary problem, and the relationship is often used to make more poignant the victory. And because the pacing of sf/f novels and romance novels are so VERY different, the inclusion of Love scenes is also different.

(At some point, someone is going to ask me how they're different, and I'm going to tell them to go read a swath of Romance and another swath of SF and get back to me. So just be aware.)

Then there's the vexed question of What Women Want in a (Male) SF Hero. The answer to this has been answered many times in sf/f. I offer the Liaden books as one example, and because they're handy -- but there are many, many others.

In quick sum-up: Men who are strong, but emotionally available; who protect kittens, but who also realize that kittens have claws for a reason, and to deny them the opportunity to use their close is to damage the kitten's nature. Men who laugh, and who cry, and who aren't afraid to say, "I don't know." Men who are willing to learn, and to teach, and to play. Men who are people, I would say, though I've been accused of meaning when I do say that, "Men who act like women."

So. Long-Winded Auctorial Ramblings R Us.

What's everybody having for lunch today?

What went before: Monday. Sunny and already hot.

Breakfast was oatmeal and walnuts. Lunch will probably be a salad, because -- easy and cool.

I remembered something I wanted to add to the scene I wrote yesterday, and wound up writing a quick 300 words. Much better now. "Cory Robersun," indeed. Oh! And now I know why that's going to be important -- makes note. Yeah.  That's good.

So! getting ready to go out to see the chiropractor, then back to do chores, eat lunch, and then out again to meet friends for a catch-up.

What's everybody else doing today?

#

Where are my mariner/weather radio experts?

I have here in my hand a CCrane Skywave AM/FM/WX/SW/Air radio. I want to listen to the weather radio, in particular the polling of the lighthouses off the Maine coast and the report from Mt. Washington.

I know that the weather bands range from 162.3625 to 162.5875 MHz. My little radio has seven possible channels under the WX setting: 1 (162.400 MHz); 2 (162.425 MHz); 3 (162.450 MHz); 4 (162.475 MHz); 5 (162.500 MHz); 6 (162.525 MHz); and 7 (162.550 MHz). One of these has in the past been the correct channel, but all I'm getting on any of them is static.

My assumption is that I'm doing something wrong, but such is the scope of my ignorance, that I don't know what it is.

Could someone please educate me? I'd really like to listen to the lighthouses.

Spanish Aunts.

#

So took a couple bags of fiction books including a number by some scifi writers named Sharon Lee and Steve Miller to the library for the book sale. No sense them cluttering up the basement until it's time to clear the house and they end up in the dumpster, after all.

Met my friends, and had a lovely catch-up.

Came home to find that Maximus Medicare has decided Martin's Point made no error in deciding well after the fact that the treatment they told me was covered, wasn't, and I am liable for the entire bill. No one seems to care that this does not particularly make me willing to trust Martin's Point ever again, and I suppose they have a point. If I need a medical intervention, I'm probably going to have it done and worry about being bankrupted by medical bills later.

Coon Cat Happy Hour has been served and devoured. Trooper is sitting on my lap. Tali is lounging on the edge of the desk. I have poured a glass of wine.

Tomorrow, I'll go to the grocery early, I think, then come back for a solid several hours of writing before it's time to go to the needlework meeting.

I think that's it for the day. I'm glad I got in a tiny bit of writing before the day started.

Everybody stay safe; I'll see you tomorrow.

Here are the coon cats, ignoring me and my silly, leafy lunch

What went before: SNIPPET!

"You are such a smart ass," she said, sadly.

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought that had been well-established."

"Some days, it just shines brighter," Miri said.

And back to work we go.

#

We're at an awkward hour; the hour wherein Google assures me that there is No Chance of Rain until Thursday, and yet -- that does appear to be water falling out of the sky. It is also the hour wherein I have finished a scene, which adds, in addition to action! adventure! and pathos! to the WIP,  +/-1,295 words, for a Grand Total of 46,435. More or less.

It's early in the day yet, but I've made the Conservative Decision to not try to plunge into the next scene, but to gently wind down the day, and the weekend, here. I am pleased with progress made these last couple days. I have a kind of Swiss cheese day tomorrow, so likely there won't be much writing done, but Tuesday is free until it's time to go to Group Sewing, and the rest of the week is free, except for brief visits to the chiropractor. So, it looks good for more writing getting done in a reasonable manner.

There had been an appeal -- somewhere (here are the wages of mirroring my posts everywhere) -- to describe what goes on at Coon Cat Happy Hour. These things of course are confidential, but you look like a trustworthy bunch.

Coon Cat Happy Hour begins about an hour before 7 pm with Trooper announcing that his throat has been cut and this dire wound can only be healed through a proper application of gooshy food to a plate, right NEOW!

At 7, I arise, open a can of gooshy food, split it four ways, arranging each portion artistically on its own china plate. I serve the ladies first, as Miss Manners would have me to do; and then the gentlemen. The ladies tend to share their portions; the gentlemen view imbibing as a competition, to see who can finish his plate first, then horn in on the ladies. The ladies have lately been managing to eat their portions, daintily and without fuss, before the Huns descend from the mountains.

After the dishes are shining clean, I pick them up and put them in the dishwasher.

I then pour myself a glass of wine and join the coon cats in their after-Happy-Hour-Club on the couch, where we read or watch an episode of (lately) Dr. Who until it's time for me to get my evening meal together.

And on that note -- everybody stay safe.

I'll check in tomorrow.

Napping happened this afternoon, and I have proof!

So I managed to do most of the mundane tasks that had piled up on my desk. I haven't, for instance, spoken to Fidium about maybe going with a less-expensive option, now that there's only one Power User on-site, because -- has Fidium's number been hijacked by some scam offering people who call in a free!Free!FREE! wearable call button? Cause that's all I get when I call them -- and what I really want is a sales rep.

I also did not arrange for an extended warranty for the LG washer and dryer because the site is scrod. I have until October, so maybe I'll try again sometime later.

I had a bad few moments when I realized that I'm on the last pack of checks that has Steve's name and mine name on them. I really don't want to have checks that just say "Sharon Lee," not because I think Steve's going to be writing checks anytime soon, but because I actually feel safer with his name on the checks. I guess I'll go over to Checks Unlimited and see if they still have me on-file. The bank clearly doesn't care; they've been cashing the checks with no complaint.

I may not be around much tomorrow or Sunday, because Plans to Write.

And on that note -- everybody stay safe. I'll check in as can.

Here's another picture from Saturday Cove to tide you over (see what I did there?)

What went before: Coon Cat Happy Hour fast approaches. I wrote about 500 new words today, total WIP now +/-44,230.

I need to print something out so I can take it with me back to Steve's room to work on while Ashley's here. After she finishes, I'll head out to Belfast to pick up my glass, and to visit the co-op. It is still promised to be significantly cooler tomorrow, so, yanno -- yay.

So, some of you may know there's a fannish word: "gafiate," off of another fannish word: "gafia." Gafia means "Getting Away From It All," and initially "it all" was the Real World and Mundane life. Gafiate is the verb form. After awhile -- before I stumbled into fandom, actually -- the meaning flipped and this was a possible exchange between two fans at a con: "What happened to X? I haven't seen them in a while." "Oh, they gafiated." -- which is to say, "it all" was then known to be fandom and the business of fans.

The above reflection is brought to you by my recent introduction to "eremition" -- to retire from the world. Off of "eremite," a recluse or hermit.

You're welcome.

Everybody stay safe; I'll check in tomorrow.

Thursday. Sunny, and said to be less ambitious in terms of breaking record temperatures.

The house is picked up in anticipation of Ashley. While she's here, I'll get myself around to the heat pumps and clean the filters. That way, if I fall and break my head, there will be someone here to call 911.

After Ashley has left me, I'll be going to Belfast to retrieve my glass, do some shopping at the co-op (co-op onions are the best!), and wend my way home. I'll try not to go down to Ducktrap, but -- no promises.

That's it for me.

What've you got?

Wednesday. Cloudy and warm, though not expected to be as warm as yesterday.

Breakfast was cream cheese on rice crackers with the last of the cherries. I'll stop briefly at the grocery store for more fruit after I see the chiropractor. Lunch will be quiche and salad.

For those who want to see the pieces I made yesterday -- waiting is. Glass needs time to cool after it's been worked in flame, and the way you cool it is to put it into an annealing oven, which has an internal temp of 1100F/593C, and is then sssslllllooooooowwwwly brought down until the glass can safely come out into the shared atmosphere. If you just leave hot glass sitting out, the various bits will cool unevenly and nine times out of ten, your piece will break.

So! I will be picking my puffin and my marble up on Thursday afternoon, after Ashley has been and done, and I will share images at that time.

I finished listening to The Masqueraders last night. It has long been one of my favorite books -- I am, with all the world, at the old gentleman's feet. I want to say that it was a privilege to hear him scold his son and his servant for meddling in! HIS! plans! I fear I laughed so loud, I scared the cats.

Today, I have a couple of phone calls to make and the aforesaid visit to the chiropractor. After lunch, I plan on doing some writing, as one does.

I think that's all I've got -- oh. No, it isn't. No, we could not have just left Vyr out. He was not -- why do people say this? -- there to "pad out" the book, but, indeed illustrated several important points, tied some threads, and moved the story along.

Here's a Writing Exercise for those who don't believe me: Retype the book, but leave Vyr's line out. Read the amended book and note the waving ends of plot threads that the inclusion of Vyr tied off.

And that really is all I've got -- oh. the lawn guy's here.

Have some roses -- and! Who has plans today?

Today's blog post title brought to you by Elvis Presley, "The Yellow Rose of Texas."

What went before: So, I wrote some new words today, which was Such a Relief, after feeling like I've been mired in quicksand for the last two weeks. The WIP entire now stands at +/-42,700.

I wasted some time this afternoon on a panic attack when I realized (as I do from time to time) that I'm going to be old and broke, and sick and alone, and I don't have anything worthwhile to $ell, and &c &c.

I mean, Steve and I knew we were living a grasshopper existence, which is, take note, a much more amusing pose when you're young and strong. And, really, I thought that the end part would be too quick to be scary -- summer one day, snowstorm the next, quick-frozen grasshopper, so sad.

Well.

Tomorrow, I have an appointment with the chiropractor, mid-morning, and the rest of the day to work.

Tali and Rook are at the moment having a game of tag. I need to water the roses, and -- I do believe I'll have a glass, or two, of wine.

Everybody stay safe; I'll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Sunny and already hot.

Breakfast was the last of the lettuce, the last of the tomato, the last of the cottage cheese, and a piece of toast. Lunch will be the leftover pork chop and beans.

I detect a theme.

Leaving in a few to see the chiropractor. I'll hit the post office and the grocery before I come home.

We here in Central Maine are still Awaiting tomorrow's arrival of Extreme Heat. The excursion to the hot shop in Belfast is being reconsidered, with the hope that we can move it to another, somewhat cooler, day later in the week.

The following is for those who wonder how writers make money, sparked by a mention in comments regarding a "living wage."

It ought to surprise no one to learn that writers make money by writing. How much money they make and if they receive what they are owed are variables, the discussion of which is outside of the purview of this paper.

The other thing to remember is that there is a long and impecunious apprentice period for most writers (cue joke: Q: Oh! You're a writer? Have you sold anything? A: Well, so far, I've sold my sewing machine, my kayak, and my car.). Most of us have day-jobs, though (I speak for myself) not the demanding sorts of day-jobs that may come with retirement benefits, because those sorts of jobs impinge on one's writing time. Even those of us who "make it," for some definition thereof, do so later in life, and if we don't necessarily have college loans to pay off, we have other debt incurred while we learned our craft.

So!

The greater percentage of writers make LESS -- even FAR LESS -- than a "living wage" from their writing.

Those who do make a "living wage" are equal parts lucky and too stubborn to die -- Lee-and-Miller stand in this category as an example, and perhaps a warning.

Very few achieve Literary Superstar, which is of course the standard to which all writers are held because societies that measure success in terms of money have no soul.

To continue.

Irregardless of the variables mentioned above, when writers stop writing, they stop getting paid. This is a calamity, because, even those of us who managed to achieve that "living wage" do not typically have Large Sums of Money invested against sickness or old age. They may have a few months' living expenses squirreled away. Maybe.

Now, yes, some of us -- Lee-and-Miller are twice fortunate -- have significant extra fan support in the style of Patreon, Ko-fi, and so on. Those things, like all donation systems -- such as the local food bank, or Meals-on-Wheels -- depend on the economic health of the donor pool. When the economy tanks, people very wisely cut their donations, in the interest of feeding themselves and their families.

Speaking, again, for myself: I have three books under contract -- again, and that's three times fortunate -- and even should stop writing after I turn in the last, cash should continue to flow, in lessening rivulets, for a couple years. And I can of course continue to write and publish independently. Assuming that I keep my health and my head.

Anyhow! This has gotten long, and I need to get on the road.

How's everybody doing today?

Some time later: Back from errands, which also included putting gas in the car. I couldn't figure out why I needed gas, then I remembered that I'd driven back and forth to Bath last Monday.

It's shaping up to be a nasty ol' day out there. The City of Waterville has hit the citizen phone tree to remind us that the Cooling Center on Front Street will be open tomorrow from 10 to 6.

I bought a strawberry shortcake cup at the grocery store and ate it before lunch, in true grasshopper fashion. I tried to share my whipped cream with the overlords -- Rookie was enthusiastic, Firefly was curious, Tali thought I was Up To Something, and Trooper had just finished his chicken smoothie and was too full for dessert.

I will be updating the blog, performing my duty to the cats, and then seeing about lunch before sitting down with the WIP.

Today's blog post title brought to you by The Cars, "Magic"

Oh.  I was late getting into work today, and Supervisor Firefly noticed.