Bliss.

Today was a perfect spring day. Sixty-five degrees, breezy, sunshine-y all day long. Absolute awesomeness. I got some laundry done (yay), made a new crock-pot lasagna recipe (needs a little tweaking but yummy anyway), cooked no-bake cookies (always excellent), tried baking seven-layer bars (still cooling so the jury's still out), cleared the dead perennials from the flowerbeds (exposing new growth underneath, bonus), grocery shopped with Ken (double bonus) and walked around the woods near our house with Ken (triple bonus). All that plus I've made a little headway on the short story that's due May 1st. I honestly don't know what could have made this day any better.

Okay, okay, maybe an e-mail from an agent wanting to see a full manuscript. Other than that, though ... nothing. And, hey, the day's not over yet, am I right?

As Ken and I walked through the woods earlier today, I realized again how much I need to live in the country. We always talk about buying a house in the woods, and today just completely reinforced that notion for me. Friends of ours live in the country, and a few times a year they have bonfires. We go and eat food and drink wine and listen to the quiet and look at the stars and as we do all those things, I can actually feel my soul become peaceful, like I've found a piece of me that's missing. Today was a good way to recharge the batteries.

Recently discovered cat facts

1. Moonshine is almost brave enough to go into the shower when its running. Ken even shoved her in the other day and she didn't freak out too bad. Once she takes that plunge that will make us a two-shower cat-household. (Morgan's been taking showers for almost two years.)

2. Morgan loves to lick the glue on envelopes. He doesn't discriminate against old envelopes, either; if it's paper and it has glue, he licks it. This always makes me think of the Seinfeld episode where George's fiance Susan dies from licking too many cheap envelopes.

3. Kahlua doesn't chew his food. He also yodels before he barfs. It's an odd sound to hear at four in the morning.

Spring is in the air ...

... and so I'm getting the urge to redecorate and plant flowers. It's this time of year that I always curse myself for not planting bulbs in the fall. It's also the time of year that I tell myself this is the year I'm actually going to do the back flowerbed and plant lots of annuals and actually have a decent lawn. It might really happen this time. I can't really plant any flowers until around Mother's Day--they'll just get frostbitten otherwise--but I can repaint the master suite in the meantime. I'm thinking brown walls in the bedroom, teal blue walls in the bathroom, and curtains/bedding/accents with a mixture of both colors. I've found towels and curtains I like a Target; finding new bedding could be an issue, as could finding a shower curtain. I'll search around until I find something, but I forsee a weekend soon where I'm up to my elbows in paint. I can't wait. And then maybe we'll be grown-ups and buy an actual bedroom furniture set. Right now it's a mish-mash of childhood, garage sale, and hand-me-down furniture.

I've also been pondering re-doing Ken's den. He's actually just turned our spare room into his office; I'd like to surprise him with new paint and a few cool asian-feel pictures for the walls. I think he'd really appreciate that, and it wouldn't take much effort. Maybe the next time he's away on business.

Davidson's swan song

I like watching college basketball. During the season I usually only care about Big Ten teams, but during March Madness I'm all about the underdog. Today 10-seed Davidson played 1-seed Kansas for the last final four spot. Davidson's a great team, surprised every team they played, and Stephen Curry is a phenom as far as offense goes. They had a legitimate shot at making it ... and they lost 57-59. It was an excellent game, full of ups and downs and a close score the entire time (the biggest lead was Kansas by six at one point). Every one of those kids played with heart. They could have won. But instead we have 4 1-seeds as the final four. How boring.


On a different note, yesterday somebody backed into my car in a parking lot. This is the second time that has happened to me. I swear to God my next car will be lime green.

Excuse me while I try bulemia on for size

Check this out. While my inner teen says "yay!", my outer adult says, "come on." I mean, I'm glad they're reissuing the books, because they were favorites of mine as a kid and they'll do well in the current market atmophere. However, do they need to make girls feel any worse than they already do about their looks? Seriously. Is being a size six all that bad?

Industrial-strength crud

So, um, yeah. It turns out I have a sinus infection, an ear infection, and I'm working on a mild case of pinkeye. I'm on antibiotics now. Amoxicillin, thy name is love. I also get to do nasal irrigation with saline four times a day, which is just as much fun as it sounds.

My working theory is that I had the flu late last week and that opened me up for all the creepy-crawly goodness.

Honestly, I didn't think I had an infection until someone suggested it to me at work yesterday because other than my raw-from-wiping nose, I'm not in pain. Pressure, sure, and full of snot, but my face and ears don't hurt. My eyes burn a little but that's it. Oh, and I haven't tasted anything for four days, so I have no real appetite, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

So I get to brave one more day of work (hopefully I'll get to leave early) and then spend all this weekend recuperating. I'm not even going to feel guilty about not writing. I'm going to sleep and read and watch comfy movies and listen to the thunderstorms we're supposed to have.

The cruds, I gots it

Avoid this year's strain of influenza at all costs. Seriously. It's nothing to fuck around with. All day Saturday I rotated between sleeping with a blanket, sleeping without a blanket, watching t.v., and walking back and forth to the bathroom. Talk about fatigue--the amount of energy it took me to walk from the living room to the kitchen to get a glass of water nearly did me in. And let's not even talk about aches and pains--at one point I took and shower and cut it short because the water falling on my body hurt. Sunday I spent the day blowing two quarts of snot out of my nose, but I had a bit more energy so I was okay with that. Today I stayed home from work, blew even more snot outta my sinuses, and even mustered the energy to surf the web, take a shower, and do a load of laundry. Tomorrow I might be nearly normal.

I hate being sick. I had plans this weekend--Chicago, Carrollton, and Peoria, two of them events that will not be replicated--and I didn't get to do a single one.

On a brighter note, How I Met Your Mother is on tonight. It's on the bubble for pick-up next year, so if you've not watched it, give it a try. Neil Patrick Harris needs all the viewers he can get.

Downtime

I've worked that last three weekends in a row, and what does that net me? A weekend off, right? Why, yes it does. Apparently I haven't been living right, though, because I've caught a cold. Right now it's in my chest as well as my head. All that laundry and writing I'd hoped to get done with weekend? Eh, maybe. Most likely I'll be camped out on the couch with a magazine and a book and a bottle of juice. The only downside is that so far, I haven't lost my appetite ... so no sickness-related weight loss for me. If you're gonna be sick, you might as well lose a pound or three, am I right?

I. Love. Judy. Greer.

I've loved her ever since she played the freaky outcast in Jawbreaker. I loved her before anyone knew who she was. An executive over at ABC finally got a clue and cast her as the lead in a new series called Miss Guided. (Though it might have been Ashton Kutcher that got the clue--he's the executive producer of the show.) She is just so geeky and real and honest and awesome. Don't believe me? Check her out here.

3.14

Happy Pi day, everyone! Watch out, world: the geeks are about to celebrate.

Today my niece is in town checking out the University. Ken and I were on campus for a bit to have lunch with her. While there, we saw two hot girls from the math club were selling pieces of pie in observance of Pi day. Yeah, you read that right: two hot girls from the math club. We wondered if they were actually members or if they'd been recruited for selling. Or perhaps they were smart enough to realize that the math geeks are going to be the ones makin' all the money after graduation and so decided to invest in their future and became Math Club Groupies.

At work the micro department observed pi day by bringing in pies. I was actually sort of bummed to have the day off ... but they promised to save me a piece of peanut butter pie so I have that to look forward to tomorrow. It'll make working Saturday a little bit sweeter, yes?

Odds and Ends

There's a rumor going around that it's going to be 60 degrees on Wednesday.

I. Am. So. Pumped.

Watching Raiders of the Lost Ark right now. I can't wait for the new one to come out in May. I'm a fan of Harrison Ford, of course, but I'm anxious to see if Shia Lebouf can pull of the role of the son.

Speaking of movies, last night a friend and I watched the Scream trilogy. The first and second ones are classics, but the third one fell a little short on plot and tension. It felt too forced. A big reason for that, I think, is because the third movie had a different screenwriter than the first two.

Lots going on this week. Gym on Monday, taxes on Wednesday, niece in town on Thursday and Friday for a campus visit, work this weekend. The new writing goal is to have a rough draft of the short story done by the end of the week. Fingers crossed and all that.

Book Reviews

Okay, okay, okay. I know I have a section of my website that's supposed to be for book reviews, but the spousal unit is way busy with school, so until he can update the site, this will have to do.

Dead To Me by Anton Strout
In the interest of full disclosure, I must say that Anton is a good writer-friend of mine (as you've already figured out from my posts here and here). I didn't know until I bought the book that my mentor, Kelly "Y" McCullough, blurbed it. I can totally see why he did; there are a lot of similarities between Kelly's and Anton's storytelling (first person, fast-paced, world-based.)
Dead To Me follows Simon Canderous, a guy who is psychometric. What's Psychometry, you ask? It's the ability to divine the history of an object just by touching it. Cool, right? Not so much when you touch a potential girlfriend's cell phone and learn enough about her last tryst to completely turn you off. However, this ability is great when you work for the Department of Extraordinary Affairs in New York City. The members of the DEA spend their under-budgeted, over-worked time solving crimes of the zombie-vampire-otherworldly sort. Simon's got a "misspent youth" past that lends a little bit of credibility to the character without making him unlikeable. The plot was at times a little jumpy, but the writing was crisp and funny and so I could go with it. I would recommend it if you're looking for an enjoyable way to kill a few evenings.

Happy Hour of the Damned by Mark Henry
I don't know Mark at all, but let me tell you, I can't wait to meet this guy at a con. Any married man that can write about clothing by name-dropping designers is tops in my book. Happy Hour of the Damned follows a Seattle woman named Amanda Feral who, unbeknownst to her and against her will, gets made into a zombie. Amanda is bitchy, shallow, materialistic, and selfish; all of this is okay, though, because Amanda is well aware of her flaws and refused to apologize for them. She is who she is and if you don't like it, fuck off. She quickly befriends Wendy (a like-minded zombie), Gil (a flamin' gay vampire) and Lisel (a succubus). Lisel sends Amanda a text message that simply says "Help" before disappearing off the face of the earth. Amanda and her friends try and find her and get tangled in a World Domination plot along the way. There's lots of fun world-building here, as well as gratuitous cursing, bulimia jokes, splatter-rific gore, and fashion. While the plot is a little jumpy (at one point I had to flip pages to refresh my memory about a character who turned out to be A Bad Person.) Amanda is wonderfully flawed, the tone is satirical and fresh, and there's footnotes. Reading this was time well spent, but stay away if you find eating homeless people insulting.

I win!

Sort of. I didn't get the story written today like I wanted to ... but whatevs. I'm having trouble bringing the funny; I think I need to flesh out the character a little bit more and try a different approach. Round two starts Sunday (I work tomorrow.)

Other than that, the day went pretty well. I got most of the laundry and grocery shopping done. I also watched Chicago, which is a favorite of mine. I own the soundtrack so I know all the songs by heart, so I sang along during the entire movie. I'm not afraid to admit I even danced around a bit. My cat Morgan weaved around my feet and meowed, so I guess you could say we were singing a duet. Okay, that sounded a lot more "crazy cat lady" than I intended, so maybe forget you read that last little bit.

Wanna hear something crazier? When I watch musicals or music videos or live music or a play, sometimes I get a little nudge in my chest: I wanna do that. It makes me wonder if I weren't an entertainer of some sort in a past life, or if I'm going to be in the next one. One can argue that a writer is an entertainer ... but it's not live. Well, unless you're giving a reading or something. But still ... something about getting up in front of people and really letting it rip, really putting yourself out there, intrigues me. The only acting I've ever done was the senior play in high school, and I was ... okay in that, I think. Not great. But not sucky, either. This all comes around to my theory that artists (writers, painters, actors, directors) have a lot in common.

Day off

Tomorrow I have the day off work, and I swear I'm going to be busier than if I went in. On the to-do list:
Laundry (yikes)
Write short story (lofty, but doable)
Run on the treadmill (gotta get some of this schlebby winter flab off)
Pay bills (yuck)
Make tax appointment (double yuck)
Make dinner (easy-peasy, in the crock-pot)
Maybe see a movie (not sure which one yet)

And you know, maybe read a book or something somewhere in there. We'll see how much gets done. Wish me luck.

Inspirational speaker

So Ken over the past few days had a work conference. I joined him--who am I to turn down a hotel room and food?--and it was a nice, relaxing time. Ken works with an Illinois agency whose purpose is to organize statewide law enforcement in the event of an emergency. There were lots of panels that dealt with terrorists, pandemics, bridge collapses, and the like. While I didn't attend any of those--I shopped and napped and read and relaxed instead--I did attend the dinner on Monday night. I am so glad I did, because I got to hear the guest speaker. I forget his name, but he was an insurance executive that was on the 105th floor of 2 World Trade Center on 9/11/01. His first-person account of the event was by turns terrifying and wrenching and inspirational. Mostly he talked about how every single decision that we make every single day is important, and that keeping your cool and being rational during a crisis can save your ass.

This guy was in a meeting when the first plane struck the other tower. He was in an interior room with no windows; the lights flickered, but that was all. They couldn't hear or see anything else. Soon after the volunteer fire marshal came and corralled them up, saying he couldn't leave until everyone left the floor. So they took the stairs down, down, down. He following people out onto the 90th floor lobby; at the time he didn't know why everyone left the stairwell, but he followed--maybe they had to take another set of stairs or something--but once he was out of the stairwell he saw that the 90th floor was all windows. He got to see the destruction for the first time. He remembered thinking, "It's a clear, beautiful day. How did that pilot miss?"

He commenced going down, down, down. Hits the 78th floor. A woman that he knew well was corralling everyone into the elevators--there was still power and all that in the second tower, so why the heck not, right? This guy didn't follow the woman he knew; something just told him not to. He continues to go down the stairs. Once he hits the 75th or 72nd floor (I don't remember which), he and his fellow descenders feel a huge ball of heat, hear a horrible sound, and the walls of the stairwell rocked back and forth at 30 degree angles. Debris fell. Handrails popped from the walls. He didn't know it at the time, but the second plane had just hit, and everyone he knew that had followed the woman into the elevators is dead. He mentions how the friction from the plane entering the building generated 2000 degrees F of heat; those people were vaporized. They literally didn't know what hit them. They were alive. And then they weren't.

He remembers how calm everyone was; the stairwell fit three people across and that's how everyone went down. People had taken off jackets, discarded laptops and other equipment, women had tossed their heels, but all of that had been pushed to the sides; it didn't block the road. Down, down, down.

At one point, he helped an obese woman descend. She said she couldn't do it. He said she had to. At another, a maintenance man's walkie-talkie squealed with a voice that said, "We're on the 82nd floor, we're stuck" and the dude trucked back up the stairs to help his friend.

Later--and I don't remember where he said he was, maybe the 30th floor?--he saw some firefighters and police officers on their way up. He said the men were silent, but their faces said it all. They were going to fight a fire they couldn't contain; they were climbing to their deaths. And they went, without complaint or question.

On the fifteenth floor, a worker--maintenance man, maybe--sang "God Bless America" and between each line shouted encouragement to all the descenders. The speaker likened it to the musicians that played while the Titanic sank, and he could just imagine what the singer's superior had told him: keep their spirits up, make them laugh, do what it takes to get them out of the building. The speaker left through the lower mall and out the street. He spoke about the smoke and falling debris and red blotches from the falling bodies. Eight minutes after he exited the building, it collapsed. He said he can hear the sound of the building falling mixed with the noise of a million people screaming at once every day. He was able to get a subway to Penn Station, take a train to his parent's home in Philly, then drive to his home outside Chicago. He attended Wednesday night Mass at his church with his wife.

He ended the speech by thanking the room full of law enforcement officers for everything they do and reminding everyone once again that every decision you make every day makes a difference. I have never felt so inspired and insignificant at the same time.

Grrrr ...

So my ancient TiVo did not record "Lost" tonight. It should be recording this very second but it isn't. Ken and I went out to dinner and hung out at the bookstore for a bit. I looked forward to watching "Lost" while zipping through the commercials. The rest of my night is ruined, I say, ruined! Yeah, yeah, I know. I can watch the episode online tomorrow night or wait a week and watch it before the new episode next week. But it's not the same.

I'm so calling the cable company tomorrow to upgrade our service. Take that, ancient TiVo!

And the Oscar goes to ...

Oh, yeah, the Academy Awards, baby. Every year I say, "Self, I'm going to have an Oscar party next year. I'll get some friends together and we'll dress up and drink wine and eat fancy cheese on expensive crackers." And then every year I watch them on the couch in my pajamas with a bowl of snacks in one hand and the TiVo remote in the other. Ah, well.

Watching the Awards via TiVo is really the only way to go. I start an hour or so after the broadcast begins and fast-forward all the commercials and boring and/or political acceptance speeches (of which there will be plenty this year, guaranteed). I usually have caught up to the broadcast by the last 45 minutes or so, which is kind of cool because I get to find out who won the big awards at the same time as the rest of the world.

I used to really get into the fashion-police type shows that typically air the week following the Oscars, but not so much anymore. I can only take so much negativity before I want to yell at the TV "get a life already, move on!" Sure, I like look at People or eonline.com with friends and talk about the fashion as much as the next person; I just don't need to hear a Joan Rivers clone bitch about how "fat" someone looks or how "last season" this dress is.



On a completely unrelated note, the weather simply must get better soon. If we get anymore snow or "wintery mixes" I'll scream. I want nothing more than to go for a jog outside and plant flowers and soak up a little sunny warmth with my bare arms. Someone pass the serotonin.

You say it's your birthday?

Well, it's my birthday too, yeah!

I think I'm the only woman in America that loves her birthday. I have to admit part of it is the me-me-me quality of the day. As I get older, though, the celebration of life factor is part of it as well. I got to have another year to play around on Earth, and God willing, I'll have lots more. It probably doesn't hurt that I look younger than 33, too. :)

Today I'm running on the treadmill, maybe going out for breakfast, window shopping, then heading to Biaggi's for dinner. I've been craving butternut squash ravioli for a while, so I'm having that and foccaccia and wine and perhaps some chocolate cake.

Tomorrow at work we're celebrating me and another co-worker's birthday with Papa Del's pizza, cookies, and german chocolate cake. For those who haven't had it, Chicago-style pizza is like eating a loaf of chewy/crispy bread loaded with cheese and a gallon of tomato sauce. It's heavenly. And then I'll be going to the gym tomorrow night after work, no excuses.

Bookstore shenanigans

Anton rubbing spines with some fellow authors. We tried to take a picture of him next to Pat Rothfuss, but the bookstore seemed to be sold out of The Name of the Wind ...

Our Intrepid adventurers buy a book

So the other night I found out my friend Anton Strout's book had landed in bookstores. The official publishing date is Feb. 26th, but unless your name is Rowling, pub dates don't really mean much. Anyhoo, once I heard the news, Ken and I hotfooted it to the bookstore.

6:55: *I go to the information desk and wait*
6:55:30: *Ken goes to the stacks to see if it's there*
6:56: Nice information lady comes to the desk. I ask "Do you have ..." While Ken pops out of the stacks waving the book.
6:56:05: I squeal and run to join Ken at the stacks!
Kelly: Oh, look, they've got a bunch here!
Ken: We need to take pictures. Did you bring the camera?
Kelly: Of course. *Brandishes camera*.
Ken: *Fiddles with electronic device* It'd be funny if we did a little movie.
Kelly: We can totally do that! *fiddles with electronic device* Now hit the button like you're gonna take a picture ...
Ken: *hits button* *screen goes blank* Ummm...what did you do?
Kelly: What did I do? *fiddles with electronic device* Crap, I think that batteries are dead.
Ken: *fiddles with electronic device* Yep.
Kelly: Gimme your keys, I'm going to Target.
7:00: I drive to Target, obeying all traffic laws.
7:02: I run across parking lot, purchase batteries, and run across the parking lot again.
7:04: Drive back to the bookstore, once again obeying all traffic laws.
7:05: I hit the stacks and have a moment of panic because I've lost Ken.
7:06: Ken finds me.
7:06:20 Maniacal picture taking-ensues.

I'll post some pics later. Right now blogger's being fussy and I don't have time to mess with it. (See next post).

The Wonder of Science

Ken has had chronic heartburn for ... sheesh ... years. He's taken Prilosec quite successfully for that time, but now his doctor wants to find out what the heck is going on. Today he gets to be knocked unconscious and have a camera shoved down his throat. I don't think it'll be all that bad, but the last time Ken had anesthesia he had sort of a bad reaction and was sick for a couple of days. That was for a gallbladder surgery, though, and so I hope they don't have to give him as big of a dose today. Fingers crossed and all that.


ETA: We're back home now and Ken is sleeping it off. Nothing serious, but they did find some polyps in his stomach that they've sent for biopsy. The doc seemed to think they were benign, so I'm not worried.

Guitar Hero III news

I just got through five new songs plus the Tom Morello battle on Hard. My left hand and wrist are shredded but I'm a happy camper.

And now to put some words behind me on the WIP. This should be fun, considering my left hand is nearly worthless.

NIU Shooting

Apparently the Northern Illinois University Shooter lived in Champaign and attended the University of Illinois. This is the area where I live and work. My gym is just a few blocks from the shooter's apartment. We may have shopped at the same places or eaten at the same restaurants. The idea that someone I may have passed on the street is capable of opening fire in a classroom sickens me.

Why NIU? Why not UofI? Why not anywhere? The crazies live among us; the scary part is we can't always tell the difference between the crazies and the normals.

One of the Virginia Tech victims attended high school in Champaign. We have a street named after her now.

Housecleaning

You've probably noticed I've cleaned the place up a bit. Now that I've got an *ahem* official website, Ken had to change some settings and such to make both blogs fit into the page format. That said, I've decided that I'm going to make the blogspot blog my personal blog and the livejournal one more writer-oriented. Hey, I might be a professional, but that doesn't mean I still can't be zany on the internets, right? For now I'll have tabs for both blogs on the website.

The best husband evah

For Valentine's Day Ken surprised me with my very own website!!!! It's pretty bare now but it's up and running and looks awesome. Go on over to www.kellyswails.com and have a look around.

Food Porn

I don't cook often. When I do it's like grilled cheese or an easy pasta dish. If meat's involved it's a pretty good bet that a crock pot's involved, too. I'm not a good cook by any stretch of the imagination.

Oh, sure, I bake a lot, but that's just chemistry in action. It must be the scientist in me. I love knowing that if I measure precisely and follow the procedure, it'll turn out right. And, let's face it: anything with fat and sure is all sorts of awesome.

So, while I am an award-winning baker, my cooking is ... meh.

Which brings me to the Valentine's Day meal I've prepared for tomorrow. I've assembled the lasagne and apple crisp (two follow-the-procedure dishes) so they can just be thrown into the oven after work. I've got the accoutrements of garlic bread, ice cream, and salad waiting in the wings. We'll eat like kings! We'll eat like princes for the next two days! And then by Sunday we'll curse the Italian grandma that invented baked pasta! And that's assuming I haven't screwed anything up!

Progress

Topped 15,000 words tonight. I'm deep into Chapter Eight, which I hope to nearly finish tomorrow. I've also done a few loads of laundry and baked a batch of brownies.

My work here is done.

Retail therapy

Today I went shopping and totally blew my wad at the bookstore. "The Muppet Show" season 1, Apocolypse 2012, and two books by Lilith Saintcrow found their way into the proverbial shopping cart. Next week I have four glorious days off work, one of which is my birthday, and I intend on spending the time reading and writing and watching nostalgic TV. Hopefully it will take my mind off the empty e-mail inbox. Or at least slow my incessant checking. We'll see.

Ken and I are going to sign up for the local mini-triathlon this year. No, we really are this time. So I suppose I can't spend all my time holed up on the couch. At least some of it has to be spent on a bike and a treadmill.

Two things to make the work week go faster: Jericho on Tuesday and Lost on Thursday. Well, I'll probably end up watching Lost on Friday because of Valentine's Day. Ken wants to make a big multi-course meal to celebrate. Salad, pasta, garlic bread, cheesecake ... oh, yeah. My jeans feel tight already.

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss--book review

The Name of the Wind is a tale that answers the question "How would a legend tell his story?" Kvothe is a man with a past. He's known by many names--Kingkiller and Kvothe the Bloodless among them--but now he has fashioned himself as a innkeeper named Kote. He's in hiding from his enemies--we don't know who they are--but a man that calls himself Chronicler has found him and wants to transcribe Kvothe's stories. It turns out that even the most unbelieveable tales have a kernel of truth in them, if you dig hard enough. In this first volume, we learn about the events that shape our hero and drive him to the man he will become. While its structure is framed--our movements back and forth in time are marked by shifts between first and third person--it's essentially a first-person epic fantasy told after the epic events have happened. It's the first volume of a trilogy, and so while we learn a lot about the world and its inhabitants, many events and relationships are only foreshadowed. The prose is wonderful, as is Rothfuss's world-building. Fans of sciences such as chemistry and biology will find lots to like here. It's hard to find an author that, after reading 250,000+ words, you're dissappointed to finish the last page. Not because the story was bad, but because the story has to end at all. I can't wait until the next volume hits the shelves so I can live in Kvothe's world again.

Aargh

I have got to stop checking my e-mail every three seconds. Agents will get back to me when they get back to me. Not before.

As noted on the progress bar, I'm up to 14000 words on Through the Portal. Not great, but not bad considering I spent over a month tearing my hair out on a short story. Oh, and I have those other shorts to write, too. I'm not going to let myself stress out over it, though. I'll keep chipping away at it--five hundred words here, two thousand there, a page or two between loads of laundry ... and before you know it I'll have a rough draft done. Right now I'm thinking it's not quite magic-y enough, but I figure I can add that in later. I tend to build my world around the characters instead of the other way around. Whatever works, right?

Jewelry goodness

One of my writer buds (Brad Beaulieu) is married to a wonderfully creative woman that designs jewelry. You can buy her wares here. They're funky and retro and very reasonably priced. Valentine's day is just around the corner, you know ...

Cold hard cash

Today I received a check for my short story "Three Wishes" for the Terribly Twisted Tales anthology. What to buy, what to buy, what to buy ...

I think a piece of jewelry might be in order, as is Rock Band.

A few discoveries

So a few weeks ago Ken decided he wanted to make the spare bedroom into his den. This meant that we spent a Saturday sorting through and throwing away junk. Quite cathartic. I found two things buried in the closet: my fake ID from college and two folders full of my old writing. Finding the ID was fun. It's so horribly bad that I can't believe it ever worked anywhere. It's also a nice reminder that at one point I actually was too young to buy liquor. As for the writing ... oh, man. Some of it's pretty wretched ... but some of it's not so bad. There's essays as well as fiction dating back to high school. There are at least two stories missing; one written in the sixth grade about a man and a woman on a space ship that watch the destruction of Earth from space and one written my freshman year of high school about a sociopathic teenager that kills girls who have the nerve to date her ex-boyfriend.

I've decided to take a page out of Lyda Morehouse's book (she's a member of the Wyrdsmiths writing group--yeah, the same Wyrdsmiths that's on the blog roll over on the left) and throw up a few excerpts now and again. My first selection is dated January 13, 1993 and is the opening paragraph to a story called "Another one for the Scrapbook."

He was having those feelings again. It took him by surprise, really. He usually didn't have these feelings until Springtime. He had often compared these feelings to the "I-have-the-munchies-but-I-don't-know-what-I-want-to-eat" feeling. You know, you know you want to eat, but not what. He knew he wanted to kill, but not who. Not yet.

Okay, terrible, right? But not. The writing suuuucks, but the elements are there. I have the warm fuzzies.

Hold all my calls

With the Golden Globes a wash and the Oscars questionable due to the Writer's strike, I'm all about the Screen Actor's Guild awards tonight. I'll be on my couch in my jammies with a bowl of popcorn.

Conventionitis

Here's the list of cons I know I'll be attending:

WisCon (Memorial day weekend)
World Con (August 6-10)
Gen Con (August 14-17)

This will require I take two weeks off work in August. Oh, darn. Technically I can't ask for the time off until February but--fingers crossed--it shouldn't be a problem. I'm not above bribery attempts to make it happen.

I'd also like to attend World Fantasy Con in November, but we'll see. The above cons might tap out the whole vacation fund.

I've also got good news to share regarding Gen Con. I've been asked to sit on a few writing panels! I'm excited and nervous. Excited because it's a milestone of sorts; nervous because strangers will look at me like I'm a real writer. For now I'm going to try not to think about it lest I get too freaked out. I'll also be giving a reading, so I need to think about what I want to read.

A Writer's Conundrum

There are many aspects of the writing life that I didn't expect when I started writing seriously. How to think like a writer. What do to with all the ideas that flood your brain when thinking like a writer becomes second nature. The nuts and bolts of the craft. Meeting other writers and finally feeling like I belong somewhere. Finding mentors. Bonding with fellow rookies so we can make the journey less painful. Supporting your friends by buying and reading their work.

It's this last bit that's given me some trouble over the past four months or so.

Sometimes when you meet someone you know immediately that you'll be friends. Last year at Gen Con I met Pat Rothfuss. I found him to be warm, kind, intelligent, and funny. His first book had just been released and had been generating a good amount of buzz in the industry. His dust jackets carry some serious blurbage. I didn't care about any of that--I just knew that I wanted to be friends this guy with the funky beard that could laugh at himself and others with equal abandon. And of course I wanted to support him so I bought his book. I didn't get to it right away. And then I found out Pat had been nominated for a Quill Award. And his Amazon ranking was in the top 1000. Fans wrote him truly moving letters about what his book meant to them.

I read the prologue five times. I couldn't read any further. I wasn't that I didn't like it or that I didn't find it interesting. The dust-jacket blurb reeled me in further every time I read it. I wanted to read it. I wanted to love it. It took me a while to figure out why I couldn't get past the first page.

I'm a deep reader. What I mean by that is, I invest myself fully into a story or book or series. When I read Robert Jordan's books, I dream I can channel. When I read Harry Potter, I dream about meeting Voldemort face-to-face. When I read Scott Lynch I dream I'm con-artist; when I read Steven Brust I dream I'm a knife-throwing assassin; when I read Kelly McCullough I dream I can whistle in code. I laugh out loud. I cry. I tense up at the scary parts. My heart beats faster during sex scenes. I've been known to throw a book out of anger. I wonder what daemon my friends would have if we lived in Phillip Pullman's world. I've posted on message boards. I've written Steven King a fan letter.

And this is why I couldn't read Pat's book. I was afraid I'd like it too much. Somehow I couldn't reconcile being friends with Pat while being a geeky fan. I didn't want to idolize him. I wanted to be able to buy a round of drinks and talk about politics and pop culture and his blood fued with Anton Strout without thinking in my head, "Dude, you're sitting next to the guy who wrote The Name of the Wind." It bothered me, because let's face it, if I were any sort of friend at all I'd read the damn thing. But the nature of Pat's success coupled with my tendency to geek out over books I love ... well. The picture it conjured didn't look pretty.

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I e-mailed Pat and told him my thoughts. He responded right away (and I paraphrase here): "What's wrong with being a fan and a friend? I don't have many of those." I'm not lying when I say it felt like I'd just gotten permission to love his book. And oddly, permission to hate it, as well.

I'm on Chapter Five. I'll let you know how it turns out.

New Stamps!

I totally geeked out at the post office yesterday over their new Star Wars and SuperHeroes stamps. I bought a sheet of each. So fun!

The short story is in several reader's hands. We'll see what they have to say. I'm going to work on the book for the rest of the month and then start on the other shorts I have in the back of my head.

Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card

Dear, sweet Jesus. This book rocked. First off, the story is simple yet complex. The prose is clear and concise. Card cuts to the core of truth about the group dynamics of children--and I dare say, adults--with a few well-turned phrases. He showed me how siblings could love and hate each other at the same time. He made me believe that Ender could command a military offensive at the age of ten, just as I believed Ender's 12-year-old sister Valentine and their 14-year-old older brother Peter could influence world events over the internets. I believed that a kid could be made into a machine. I believed a machine could still love. Sure, there were a few things that were a little off--relativity and space travel among them--but I was willing to suspend disbelief long enough not to care. This one is near of the top of my "favorite books" list. Highly recommended.

The edition I read had a lengthy introduction. I've read (more like devoured) author intros as long as I've been reading books. This one was a particularly good one in that Card mentioned the book had been used in the classroom in several different ways: military leadership classes, literature classes, religious discussions, etc. He wrote something that touched me deep to my writer core, and I share it with you here (I'm also going to put the quote at the bottom of the page, for those that venture that far): "The story of Ender's Game is not this book, though it has that title emblazoned on it. The story is the one that you and I will construct together in your memory. If the story means anything to you at all, then when you remember it afterward, think of it, not as something I created, but rather as something that we made together."

It is done ...

The rough draft is complete! And now the real work begins. And, a title. Hopefully I can get this done over the next couple of days so my intrepid beta readers can get their grubby hands on it.

Life is good.

Did the familial holiday festivities yesterday. Gifts+food+time spent with family=full tummy+low grade headache. Actually it wasn't too bad, but all that driving in one day sort of drains me. Today Ken and I ate breakfast out before I finished the rough draft of a short story and did a little laundry. Now I am going to nap just because I can. later I will tackle Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. I've never read it, but Ken just finished it and said I have to read it. Plus, lots of authors say it's one of their favorite adolescent reads, and so I'll give it a shot. Probably it will just make me feel inadequate but what the hell. I'm always in for a good story.

Next up on the writing front: editing the short. Work on two other shorts between bouts of Through the Portal. Perhaps start another round of agent requests for Stormy Weather. Try not to feel guilt at not getting all this done overnight.

Kitty pics

Because, you know, it's been a while.

There's a leak in the dam!

So I think I've finally hit on the right way to approach this short story I've been working on. I've started it four different times; the first three, I'd get about 1,000 words in and decided I hated it. And not just "ugh, this a tough paragraph to write" or "ew, I don't like this passage, it's got to go on the rewrite" but "dear sweet Jesus, this sucks. I'm gonna go wrap presents/do laundry/scoop cat litter." Today, faithful blog readers, I'm 1300 words in and I can't wait to get back to it. The tone is right, I'm learning a bit more about the character, as I write I'm getting ideas for what comes next and how to fix what I've already written so that what's coming makes sense ... ah, writer bliss. I tell you, it's a wonderful thing. I have tomorrow off and it's entirely possible I could finish the rough draft.

Happy New Year, Peeps!

Ken and I spent NYE with friends before we attended a schwanky to-do complete with passed gourmet finger food, a coat room, and dancing. We played Rock Band at a friend's house, where I discovered I'm not too bad at singing (!) but I suck on drums. At the soiree, I drank and danced while Ken plied me with said drinks, watched me dance, and gambled fake money at some gaming tables. It was a good time, but I'm tired, my legs and feet hurt, and I'm a little hoarse.

Today I took down the Christmas tree. We're going into town to watch Illinois play in the Rose Bowl, an then I'd like to come back and write the short story that's been eluding me. I have a deadline that is creeping up ever-so-quickly, and my performance anxiety is starting to kick into high gear.

My goals for the year are to write more and read more. Specifically, I'd like to finish two novels and five short stories this year while reading twenty books. This, of course, while losing ten pounds. Sometimes I feel like I'm pulled in a dozen different directions, and I'm not even a parent.

My New Favorite Song

"Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven. Enjoy it, peeps.

Post #300

Aren't you glad you're here for this momentous occasion?

On the writing front: back to the grind today after taking some time off around the holidays. Over 600 words on the antho short story. I think I've finally stumbled onto the right idea. Now it's just a matter of putting it on paper and getting the tone right. It feels good to be back in the saddle. After this story is done--I'd like to have a rough draft done this week--I'll work on a story for the market I posted about a few days ago. That one sounds like a lot of fun and I've already got a good idea for that. After that I'll work on a pirate short story for yet another anthology I've been invited too. Yes, you read that right--I've been asked to submit a story for the next Blue Kingdoms anthology. It's not due until March, so I've got plenty of time. Good thing, too, because I don't have a good idea yet. Of course, between all this is work on the YA book Through the Portal. I've got plenty to keep me busy.

Oh, good news about the Blue Kingdoms anthologies. Walkabout Press has been working hard to make the books available on Amazon.com. If all goes well, you'll be able to buy a copy of your very own over the Internet after the first of the year. This is such good news for everyone involved. It'll bring much-needed exposure to the Blue Kingdoms world and the authors that have gotten to explore it, not to mention Walkabout Press. I'll keep you all posted about that development.

Oh, yeah, I got another agent rejection today. Never fear. I'm too busy writing to worry about it much.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all my blogland peeps. Stay safe and sane, and I'll see you all on the flip side.

I Am Legend--movie review

Ken and I saw I Am Legend on Friday Night. It was ... good. Will Smith did an excellent job protraying a man on the verge of insanity. The special effects were cool; the vampiric humans were scary and the deserted New York was impressive. There were a few themes that weren't fully developed (I'm told they were in the book) and there was a time-shifting method of story-telling that wasn't that effective. My vote: go see it, but don't pay full price.


The movie was good, but our theater experience sucked. For one thing, we saw a 7:00 p.m. showing, which was probably our first mistake. Our second mistake was not moving when the frat brothers behind us couldn't shut up during the previews. The dudes laughed and heckled their way through the movie, which made it hard to be as emotionally wrenched as I wanted to be during a few painful/suspenceful scenes. Also, a few girls in front of us kept saying things like "Oh my gosh, oh gosh, that did not just happen," during tense scenes. It took all my will not to either strangle them or yell at them. Who raised these people to not shut up in a movie theater?!? I want to see several movies in the coming weeks--Charlie Wilson's War and National Treasure among them--but now I'm rethinking it. If we do go, it'll be at 4:00 p.m. on a Wednesday.

Market gem

Here's something from CatCurious press:

There are two sides to every story...And we here at CatsCurious Press think that our readers deserve to read BOTH!A Call for Submissions... of the Faery Taile Kynde!CatsCurious Press will open to submissions starting January 1, 2008 for all well-written, humorous fairy tale re-tellings! But there's a catch -- these stories must be written from ONE POV only... the protagonist's.Why would we be so strict, you ask? Because Jim C. Hines, author of 'Goblin Quest', 'Golblin War' and 'Goblin Hero' has already gotten on board to write a counterpoint story! That's right -- once I have plowed my way through the slush, Jim will review my favorite stories and then choose ONE from among them to write a counterpoint to.The end result will be a double-sided book with two covers (one featuring artwork for Jim's story, the other featuring artwork to coincide with the protagonist's point of view). Stories will be printed upside-down from one another -- flip the book over, and start fresh from the top! I can't wait to see the end result!Here are the requirements:Story length must be between 5000 and 10,000 wordsStories must be single POV, from the protagonist's point of viewStories must be humorousStories must appeal to a broad range of folks -- from twelve years old to adult (so no raunchy humor, please!)Submission period: January 1st, 2008 to midnight March 31st, 2008Any fairy tale is fair game!The payment? $.05 per word (up to $500 maximum) and seeing your name next to Jim C. Hines'!


Come on, you know you want to give it a shot. I know I am.

Time for you to shout out, peeps.

Time for a little meme cribbage:

I know very little about some of the people that read my blog. Some people I know relatively well. (Some I know too well. You know who you are.) I read your journals, or we have something else in common and we chat occasionally. Some of you I hardly know at all. Perhaps you lurk, for whatever reason. But you visit and I thank you for your interest in my words.But here's a thought: why not take this opportunity to tell me a little something about yourself. Any old thing at all. Just so the next time I see your name I can say: "Ah, there's so and so...they listen in rapture to the love-music of she-turnips." I might feel compelled to mock your musical taste, but I'll certainly remember you.I'd love it if every single person who reads would do this. Yes, even you people who I know really well. Then post this in your own journal and see what gems of knowledge appear.

Brother Odd by Dean Koontz

Just finished this book last night. I've been a fan of Dean Koontz since his "recombinant DNA" sci-fi/horror days. He's mellowed out in the past ten years or so, and this book is a reflection of that. While not a trilogy, Brother Odd is the third book featuring Odd Thomas. Odd can see dead people, and that's just as much of a pain in the ass as you'd imagine. He's had a hard time recovering from a horrific event (detailed in the first book, Odd Thomas) and so has escaped to a monastery to find peace. Several of the monks have colorful pasts (one is even a former mafioso). The nuns are sly as foxes. And someone or something means to harm them all. In the course of events, the very nature of God and creation are put in question.

I loved Odd Thomas--the book and the character refused to leave my head for several days. I read Forever Odd, the second book in the series, but it didn't leave much of an impression on me one way or the other. I fear that Brother Odd will be the same way. The idea had potential, and if the story had featured any other protagonist, I probably would have really enjoyed it. For me, the first book in the series was so amazing and heart-wrenching and beautifully simple that the others just can't compete. Unfair? Perhaps. Will it keep me from reading another book with the same character. Probably not. I'll keep chasing perfection.

Housekeeping

One more rejection for SW.

Note that I've changed the comment settings. While I still don't allow anonymous comments, I do allow "openID" comments, which means you can use your livejournal url to comment here. I'm not sure how it works, but it seems pretty flashy-dashy to me. Give it a whirl, won't you?

Christmas memories

1. Ken asked me to marry him on Christmas Day, so that's obviously my favorite. We were living together at the time, and so it was our first post-college Christmas. We opened gifts before eating a nice breakfast of french toast, sausage, and orange juice. As I cleaned up the breakfast dishes, Ken said, "Hey, Santa left you another gift." I walked into the living room to find a little Precious Moments birthstone chest. I opened it and there was the ring. I looked at it for awhile and finally Ken said, "It's an engagement ring." That broke my amazement enough for me to tell him yes.

2. Decorating sugar cookies with mom and dad. Dad would bake them, mom and I would decorate them. Dad didn't usually want any part of the decorating business but he'd watch. He'd also purposely burn the last batch so he'd have cookies to dunk in coffee. His sugar cookies were of the puffy soft variety, and I loved them. I need to ask him for that recipe; somehow I don't have it.

3. Stealing Christmas lights. This would be when I was a teenage houligan, probably around 14 or 15. Remember the old-school lights that if one bulb burned out, the whole string shut off? Well, a group of us walked around town and pulled one light off of random strands of lights. At least, I pulled them out; I figured it'd be easier for the owners to find the reason their lights went out. One member of the party only loosened one light so the homeowner would have to twist every light to find the defective one. Ah, youth.

Planetary alignment question

Is Jupiter in retrograde Capricorn or something? Okay, I have no idea what that meant, but listen to my day.

First thing this morning--I'm talkin' 7 a.m.--I had a periodontist appointment. I have a 12 mm pocket behind my distal #14 molar, and it had to be scraped clean and stitched down so the gum could reattach to my tooth. Good times. I told the doc I didn't need Darvecet and would just use ibuprofen. He gave me some amoxicillin and special mouthwash and sent me on my way.

So I finally get to work a little after 8 a.m. We had our computer upgrade yesterday and today was the first day for most people to work on the actual live system. Sure, we'd been working on the test side for months but it's just different when you're actually live. I'm the Superuser for Micro, and so it was pretty important that I be there. Then around 9 a.m. I got a phone call from Ken--when he started his car the cabin filled with smoke and so he didn't want to drive it. Could I take a long lunch so we could car shop? I got very lucky because we had extra people on hand for the upgrade and so I was able to leave work around 10 a.m. Ken drove a Saturn Vue, then we had lunch ....

.... where I tried to eat chunky soup in a bread bowl. No dice. I ate the soup without chewing and passed off the bread bowl to Ken. Mouth pain at a definite peak, so I popped more ibuprofen before we hit another car dealership ...

... where we spent four hours looking at two cars. The dealer let Ken bring home a Hyundai Sante Fe for the night. Ken's leaning towards the Saturn, but at least this way he'll have a way to get to work tomorrow.

When we got home, I found another agent rejection in my mailbox.

So. My mouth hurts bad enough that I can't eat solid food, we have to buy a car, I didn't get to the gym tonight, and I haven't written anything in three days. All I want to do is curl up under a blanket and suck on a piece of cake.

Blatant commercial rip-offery

Three collapsable cat carriers: $36
Three rabies vaccination tags: $30
Three rabies and distemper vaccinations, plus distemper boosters and well-kitty visits: $159
One peed- and pooped-in collapsable cat carrier: Free
One cat scratch: Free
Three kitties with a clean bill of health: Priceless

A side note: Moonshine is a petite 6.25 pound kitty, but she is ALL CLAW. Shove her in a carrier at your own peril.

Milestone

I reached 10,000 words on the WIP tonight. Last night a funeral scene tried to make me stumble, but tonight I owned it. That whimper you hear? That's the scene begging for mercy.

Lifted weights, too. If I can walk tomorrow I'll be a happy girl.

Christmas Spirit

I had a moment of sadness when I hung up the stockings because I had to leave Bailey's in the crate. So I hung up the fish-shaped stocking instead. It made me feel a teensy bit better.

Since Ken and I are doing the whole "Biggest Loser" business at the gym, the cookies are going to work tomorrow. Ken doesn't like sugar cookies and the fun for me is decorating them, so it's all good. Note that I gave the gingerbread man with a broken leg a little bit of red-icing blood.

New post ...

at the Writer's symposium. Go clicky the linky on the left.

accomplished

It's only 2 p.m. and I've already been to the gym, mailed Christmas cards, and survived the grocery store. I say "survived" because we're at the beginning of an ice storm the place was nuts. I didn't see any fights break out or anything, but I think I personally bumped into about 20 people. I don't know why everyone was there--yeah, we've got an ice storm coming, but it's going to be 52 degrees tomorrow. It's all going to melt, people!

Ken and I were at the grocery store because we've joined a "biggest loser" program at our gym. This morning we got weighed and measured, which motivated us to buy lots of fruits and veggies and fiberous cereals. I'm actually pretty jazzed about it. Between working out and writing and reading and internetting, I won't have time for much else. But let's face it, what else do you need?

Raise the roof!

Got a request for a partial tonight. Score another for the writer!

What the ...

How the hell did it get to be almost December already? I don't get it.

funk

Today I feel blah. I wrote 600 words on the WIP and tried to start the anthology story, but I'm just not feelin' it. I had intended to put up the Christmas tree tonight, but I'm not feeling that, either. Christmas cards? Meh. Laundry? Ditto.

Another rejection ...

But the zoduko website is down and so I can't update the meter. Ah, well. I'm not that down about it, though; the editor said the tale was well-written and that I should consider her again. You can bet I will. However, I fear this editor has seen most of my shorts I have out in circulation. Humph.

It just occured to me I should write a few shorts set in my Stormy Weather world. For one thing, it might be fun to explore different aspects of the world; for another, it'd be cool to have a few stories in circulation if the book actually ever sees the light of day. A few of the stories that are circulating now are set in my Gemstone Prophecy world, and they were a lot of fun to write.

So, a list of current and future projects:
Through the Portal
Anthology short story
One or two shorts set in SW world


I've got a lot to keep me busy. Sheesh. It would be so great to do this full-time. Sure, I'd probably be broke, but the more you write the more ideas you get, so I'd always be busy.

17.5%

7,000 words.

That meter won't be moving tomorrow. Going back home to see dad and then eat a belated Thanksgiving with mom and her husband. I'm bringing the pumpkin bars. I feel fat already.

Happy Thanksgiving, peeps

A time for reflection before I head off to the gym. I'm thankful for:
My husband, who keeps me sane.
My job, because I'm never bored and the people are cool.
My middle-class lifestyle. I grew up poor, so the idea that I live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood and can buy whatever we need without thinking about it too hard is absolutely wonderful. Note I didn't say "want." It's nice to want things.
My writing. Every day I learn something new; every story I produce is better than that last.
The blogging community. You guys keep my chin up.

It must be the glue

What is it about sealing the envelope on an agent submission that makes the contents instantly suck?

Ah, hell. Word on the street is this agent responds quickly to partials. I'll know soon enough.

Nine hundred words today on Through the Portal. I think they all sucked, too.

This is Kelly's brain on adrenaline.

Tonight, I got an invitation for an anthology and a request for a partial for Stormy Weather. I am so frickin' excited I can barely think. Of course, the agent could reject me and the story might not ultimately be accepted, but tonight I'm on cloudy nine. Past that. Cloud fifty-three.

Oh, yeah, baby

Nine hundred words today, as well as a critique and laundry and lounge time. I still have a few hours left to play Guitar Hero III and watch a movie! Woot. This story is just frickin' flowing from my fingertips--for now at least--and I'm riding the wave while it lasts.

Sign me up!

$4140.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth.

Talk Dirty to me ...

Or not. Maybe it's best to keep quiet sometimes.

Courtesy of my husband Ken. He's got a blog now over at krswails.livejournal.com. Go on over and give him trouble.

Leaps and bounds

1700 words today. Better yet, I feel pretty good about them. I wrote a little bit of sibling rivalry and angst followed by a torrid hook-up session in a locker room. Next up: death and mayham. Go me!


So I've been in a funk lately about all my rejections. One of the writers I met at WFC offered to take a look at Stormy Weather, so I sent it off. I expected her to take a week or so with the critique, but she got back to me within 24 hours. She loved it, had lots of good things to say about it, and said the first chapter needed work. I agreed with that; it's just I've re-written the first chapter three zillion times (at least, it feels that way; it's actually more like four or five times) and I can't figure out why I can't get it right. Anyhow, I believe her exact words were "You're no amateur" and so my ego got a much needed boost.

bloggin' from panera

So I'm writing from a bakery/coffeeshop this morning. I'm surrounded by hazelnut coffee, retirees, and free wi-fi. We'll see how many words I produce before I pick Ken up for lunch.

Ah, yes, lunch. Today we're car-shopping for Ken during his lunch hour. His Contour is close to biting the dust, so we're going to give a few cars a spin and see what he likes. We're checking out Saturn and possibly Nissan or Honda. Probably more shopping will ensue over the weekend. I'm all about getting a hybrid but Ken's wavering on a hybrid, a two-seater, or a truck. We really don't need another sedan so really, he can get whatever the heck he wants. He mentioned a Mustang but I think he's too young for his mid-life crisis car.

ETA: Yeah, baby, just wrote 900 words. Maybe I should come back to Panera after lunch ...

Pictures of the falls

The wonder of nature, baby.

Support the WGA

A great post on the Hollywood writer's strike.

*sigh*

Just received a rejection e-mail from the agent that had requested the partial.

It's pissing rain outside.

I want to stay home, bake a cake, snuggle under the covers, and watch television all night. But, no. Tonight I will go to the gym. And then I'll shower, bake a cake, sunggle under the covers, and watch television all night. How I Met Your Mother, Chuck, and Heroes, here I come.

I'm up to 2000 words on TtP. I'm nearly done with the first chapter. It's actually coming along rather nicely.

Wiscon 2008

So, I went to make my reservations for WisCon in Madison, Wisconson, tonight, and the conference hotel is already full! So I'm making an internet shout-out: Anyone have an extra room? It's probably to soon to know for sure ... but if someone out there can help me out, that'd be great.

Sometimes efficiency sucks

You know what the worst thing about sending out a bajillion agent queries at once? You get four rejections in one day.

Talk about a funk. Buying new nail polish is not going to cut it tonight.

I could talk about how the current WIP is up to 1500 words (after two writing sessions!) but not even that is enought to cheer me up.

Return of the SASE

Got a form rejection from an agent a few days ago. No worries.

Tonight I begin the Fabulous New Book. Starting is the scariest part.

Reporting live from her living room ...

Hey, everyone! Back in the comfy environs of Illinois. Now, without further ado ... the ubiquitous Con Report.



Wednesday

Ken and I left town around 11:00. We were in no hurry since we weren't driving to Saratoga but to Niagara Falls, Ontario the first night. We rented a car and a GPS system to make the trip easier. Our GPS's voice was male with an Australian accent, so we named him Rusty after Russell Crowe. (Aside for Bridget: Rusty completely kicks Betty's ass even though he insisted on driving through Indy instead of around.) The drive was uneventful except for one place about 20 miles from our house. It's a strange Bermuda-triangle type area that inexplicably has fatal accidents once every two weeks or so. Some dumb-fuck 80 year-old decided it'd be a good time to drive a camper and nearly drove us off the interstate. So of course I'm jumpy the entire rest of the day (Oh!! Watch that merger! He might come within 20 yards of us!) which made Ken happy, let me tell ya. We arrived in Canada around 10:30 p.m. The border guard was bored and gave me and Ken grief about not having passports or birth certificates (you don't need those to cross the border by car until February 1, 2008, by the way). I know it's their job to ask questions and be suspicious (You're from Illinois and you're going to New York. Why are you coming into Canada? Just sightseeing? Really?) but it still made me feel like a criminal. He let us go after harassing us for a bit and we made it to the hotel by the falls without incident. Awesome, awesome hotel. If you go to the falls, stay at the Embassy Suites. We had two nice-sized rooms, a bad-ass jacuzzi, two sinks, and a separate room for the toilet and shower. We made it in time to secure our complimentary bar drinks; Ken had a Molson and I had a mediocre Riesling. Then, sleep.



Thursday

After we woke up, got cleaned up, and secured some breakfast, Ken and I explored Niagara Falls. It was chilly but sunny, and we got some great pictures. The upshot was that there were no crowds, so we were able to stand right by the fence and linger without guilt. The area seems like it's a good tourist destination smack in the middle of the boonies; we discussed vacationing there with another couple for a few days. I wouldn't want to spend a whole week or anything, but a long weekend would provide ample opportunity to shop and explore the whole area and gamble at the casino without feeling bored. We left Canada at around noon, and after a mild interrogation at the border were I had a moment's panic because I almost forgot where I was born, we were on our way.



The drive to Saratoga was enlightening for two reasons: New York State's completely rational approach to tolls and rest stops. On the Google directions I noted we had toll roads and so I did what any Illinoisan would do: I grabbed a metric ton of change and put it in the center console. You see, in Chicago, if you don't have an E-Z pass, you'll pay 75 cents, drive a few miles, pay 40 cents, drive a few more, pay 65 cents, etc. Not so in New York. You go through the toll at the beginning of the interstate. They give you a card with the pay rate for every exit. When you get off the interstate, you pay the rate based on when you got on the interstate. It's a very logical and sane system that Chicago could employ. Which brings us to the rest stops: they're huge and beautiful! Each one is a big building with two to four fast-food restaurants, huge bathrooms, and a gift shop. There's also a gas station at each one. Quite lovely.



Once we arrived in Saratoga, we checked into the second hotel of the trip and then drove to the convention center. We immediately ran into fellow writer-peeps and swept them away for dinner at an Italian Bistro across the street. After dinner we hit the Zombies Love Brains party where we ran into to more people we knew. We secured a prime location (next to the cooler of free beer and the air conditioner) and sat and laughed and met new people. One such person was Patricia Bray. She was one of the hostesses and had secured a gross of the coolest metal lizard-shaped bottle openers. Oh, yeah, don't worry; one of those babies came home with me. Ken and I left the parties well before they shut them down and headed to bed.



Friday

First thing we checked out of the second hotel and into the third hotel of the trip. This was the conference hotel, so it was much more convenient and all that. We inadvertently stood up a group of people for breakfast; the clock in the second hotel had apparently already been set for Standard Time, and so while we though we'd arrived ridiculously early, we were 20 minutes late. It turned out okay, though, because we ate a local diner, hung out with the Fangs Fur Fey people in the bar, attended a reading, and perused the art room. We saw this awesome print from Todd Lockhart called War of Angels. I would not be surprised if a copy showed up on one of our walls within the next few months. Just gorgeous. Friday night we ate dinner at a pizza place that advertised Chicago-style pizza. I've had lots of Chicago-style pizza in my time, my friends, and let me tell you that Marino's in Saratoga Springs isn't it. Good pizza, don't get me wrong, but Chicago-style it ain't. The crust was too thin by half. After dinner we hit autograph room. I got a few books signed, laughed with some friends, and stalked Scott Lynch, so it was all good. Afterwards we hit the parties. We had a wickedly strong blue drink and more free beer. Let me just tell you that's it's way too easy to drink too much at WFC. I didn't get drunk and do anything stupid, but I saw a few people get awfully close to that line.



Saturday
The atmosphere was way subdued Saturday morning. You could tell that two days of partying had taken its toll on the attendees. Ken and I went to breakfast with the people we had stood up on Friday. We met a few new cool people, ate gravy, and occupied a table for a few hours. We hung out in the lobby, met more people, hit the DAW party, ate dinner at a cool fried-chicken place, and then hit yet more parties. We got invited to a jazz club, and I really wanted to go, but by this point Ken and I were just ... done. Past done, even. Burnt. We headed for bed and took advantage of the extra hour of sleep.

Sunday
Took all morning to say the long train of goodbyes. Bought yet another book ('cause the duffel bag full of freebies wasn't enough, you know) and procured a few more signatures. I bonded with someone over Paula Danziger's work. We left Saratoga around 11:30 and got home around 2:30 in the morning. Remember we slipped an hour back when we crossed over into Illinois and so the trip was around 14 hours or so. Long trip, but we took several breaks and consumed approximately 5 bajillion milligrams of caffeine. Oh, a warning: if you order iced coffee through the drive-through at midnight, they don't screw around. We made it home in one piece and slept it off.

And ... that's it. I leave you with a few choice quotes from the weekend:

"I'm ... intoxicated."
"Do you need to use my lizard?"
"You two should kiss."
"My breath could bleach your hair."

bloggin' from Saratoga

A full con report will follow, I promise. I'm just too pooped now. However, I leave you with this nugget: I totally went all fangirl on Scott Lynch tonight. Yeah, that's right, that Scott Lynch. He was only a little scared, I think.

World Fantasy Convention via Canada

Ken and I are leaving tomorrow a.m. for WFC. Woot! We're driving, so we've decided to spend tomorrow night in Niagara Falls. I'm stoked. We've never been there before, so it'll be cool to see it, even if it's for less than a day. Ken and I haven't ever done an extended car trip together and so I'm looking forward to it. You can learn a lot about a person when you spend 14 hours in a car.

Then it's off to Saratogo to schmooze with the writing peeps. I can't wait to see all my writing buds, drink free beer, and stay up way past my bedtime. I've polished my nails a nice, sedate, professional shade of pale pink. It feels a little odd. Normally I go for the eggplant-navy blue-deep red-almost black shades. Maybe I'll take a bottle of dark polish on the trip with me. A security blanket of sorts, ya know?

Working on a new YA outline. Ken gave me the basic idea; I've toyed with it and changed it and made it my own. I'm going to try to do NaNo this year, so I'll start writing a zillion words a day once we get back from WFC. If I can manage to get 500 or so a day while we're in NY, I'll be a happy camper. I'll be way excited if I can get this novel fully polished and query-ready by my birthday next February. If I get a full first draft done in November, it could totally happen.

omg omg omg omg

Remember all those queries I sent out last week/early this week? Yeah? One of those babies earned a request for a partial. That's right! Odds are this will turn into a rejection ... but I'm not thinking about that now. Tonight I'm the queen of the frickin' world!!!!

Vampire Academy--book review

I started Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead a few days ago and finished it this evening. I have that groggy, disoriented feeling that comes from spending the entire day in someone else's world. VA is a great read. While none of the revelations in the plot or the characters where much of a surprise, the ride was enjoyable. I particularly liked Mead's breeding rules among her three vampire races. There was lots of angst and romance.

On the downside, it made me feel like my writing doesn't measure up. Perhaps that's my submission angst talking.

Never fear. I feel the need to start outlining my next project. I've decided to shelve the AI/autism idea for now. I still love that premise and want to tackle it in the coming year, but right now I'm liking the whole witch school murder idea. I'm also thinking about reworking the trunk trilogy. So, three projects percolating.

As for the mundane SF short story ... eh. I'm so distracted by WFC and submitting right now that I'm just not motivated. I've started it twice with completely different approaches and nothing is flowing right. At least, not yet. Hopefully inspiration will strike this week.

Today while taking a break from reading I bought a set of four cute little halloween-theme OPI polishes. I'm actually kind of excited to try them out. There's just something about new make-up or nail polish that makes me all girly. Perhaps I'll paint my toenails black and adorn them with spiderwebs while I watch Illinois kick Michigan's ass.

I'd kick Han Solo's ass

Which sci-fi crew would you best fit in with? (pics) created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Millennium Falcon (Star Wars) The world around you is at war. Fortunately you know how to handle that with the greatest of ease. You are one of the best at what you do and no one needs to tell you that. Now if only the droids could be quiet for five seconds. Serenity (Firefly) 75% Millennium Falcon (Star Wars) 75% Babylon 5 (Babylon 5) 63% Nebuchadnezzar (The Matrix) 63% Heart of Gold (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) 63% Andromeda Ascendant (Andromeda) 56% Deep Space Nine (Star Trek) 56% Galactica (Battlestar: Galactica) 50% SG-1 (Stargate) 38% FBI's X-Files Division (The X-Files) 38% Moya (Farscape) 38% Enterprise D (Star Trek) 38% Bebop (Cowboy Bebop) 38%

Damn you, Y.

I say that with total love. The other night I stayed up waaaay past my bedtime to finish Cybermancy. I don't know much about the nuts-and-bolts of computers. I know even less about Greek mythology. Mixed together with smart-ass protagonists and familiars, though, I find that I'm okay with being oblivious. The plot's fast-paced but never confusing. There's romance and jealousy and sex. There are plot threads that could wind through the next books; those same threads don't weigh this book down. It's fun. I give it two thumbs up. Oh, and spoiler alert: I'm totally rooting for Tisiphone and Raven to get together.

Two more weeks to WFC. I'm excited and nervous all at once. I hope to send out the first agent queries this weekend. On your best behavior, people; you never know when there could be lurking agents.

Red Seas Under Red Skies--the review

I just finished Red Seas Under Red Skies by Scott Lynch last night. I have mixed feelings. I loved loved loved The Lies of Locke Lamora so much that I wanted to love this one, too. But ... I didn't love it. I don't know yet if I even liked it. The book follows the same format of the first in that the story is broken up by bits of backstory. As to the actual story ... well. To me it felt disjointed and mish-mash, almost as if Lynch took ideas for two books and smashed them into one. There's lots of trust angst between the two main characters that saddened me. Bottom line: I love the characters and the world, but the plot left me a little cold. I had to force myself to finish it. I have complete faith the next book will be better.

I attribute it to Sophomore Slump. You write and work and polish a book in the hopes it'll get published without a whole lot of though into what comes after. Then blammo! Your book is picked up and they love it so much they want you to write more. Oh, and by the way, it's due in six months. Lots of pressure. Here's hoping that this time next year I'm under such pressure myself.

Next off the To Be Read pile: Cybermancy by Kelly "Y" McCullough.

Slap Countdown

Slap Countdown

Writer's Symposium

The group of authors that present the "Writer's Symposium" programming track at Gen Con Indy have made a blog and an Ezine. I've been invited to be a part of both. Rock! I suppose this means I'm making headway. Anyhoo, go on over to writerssymposium.blogspot.com to check out the blog. It's still really new, but I think once folks get warmed up it'll be awesome.

On the writing front, I've gotten good feedback for the ghost story I submitted for the Blue Kingdoms: Shades and Specters anthology. One of the editors asked if I'd change the title, and I was more than happy to oblige. I suck at titles, and the one I picked sort of fit the story but not as well as it could have. Ken actually thought up the new title, "Accidental Vengence." I love it. Hopefully that antho will be available for order in a few weeks. I'll post a picture of the cover once I have it.

Working on the mundane SF short. It's ... stalled. Not because I don't know what happens next, or I'm struggling with tone, or anything like that. I'm anxious to get back my beta-reader's input on Stormy Weather so I can polish that up and send it out to the world. I know, I know ... back to the grindstone and all that. Can't stop writing new stuff while I wait on the old stuff. I have tomorrow off work so it's nothing but writing and laundry for me. Maybe I need to take the laptop for a field trip and write in a coffee shop or something. The change of scenery might be just what the doctor ordered.

Calendar says October 8th ...

Yeah, today it was like 90 degrees. Kelly no likey. I want my fall weather, dammit. I want 65 degrees, red-and-orange trees, burnt-leaf smell hanging in the air, spiced cider, and hay rides. Where's the love?

On a completely different topic, if you haven't checked out "Chuck" on NBC, do so immediately. It's on right before Heroes; they also rerun the episodes on USA on Saturdays, I believe. Chuck is a geeky-cute computer guy whose brain accidently gets uploaded with all the CIA, NSA, and FBI secrets. While the action is sometimes a little TV-cheesy, the writing is fun and the characters are great. The casting dudes definitely picked great actors. Two thumbs up.

For your enjoyment

The perfect evening

Enjoy awesome, sunshine-y late afternoon
Perform hard cycling workout
Sing along with husband to a kick-ass song on the radio during drive home
Bake perfect batch of chocolate-chip walnut cookies
Watch Cubbies play their first game of the post-season

Mix all ingredients together in the stated order.

I'm tryin' to breathe here, people.

I gave my pseudo-final draft of Stormy Weather to my fantastic non-writer beta reader on Friday night. Hopefully he'll get back to me in a week or so with his comments. Then it's the for-real final polish and then off to agent-land. In the meantime I should really work on agent letters and such today, start getting packets ready with SASE's and all that. You know, busy work that will take my mind off my rejection angst.

Soon, kids. Soon.

Book club

So I hosted book club this past Monday. The hostess picks the book and in my bid for shameless self-promotion I picked Pandora's Closet. I've known for the past year that I was going to make the book club read a fantasy book, and since my turn came around now, I figured, why not? It actually turned out well. Most of the ladies read about half the stories; almost all of them read a page or two of each. A few stories prompted good discussion. I have to say that hearing what eight regular readers thought of "Cake and Candy" was incredible. It drove home the point that it doesn't matter what the author intends; the reader is going to take from a story what the reader wants to take. A reader brings their own experiences to a story and uses those experiences to take meaning from what they've read. Everyone said they liked it--that's not reliable though, because I don't think anyone would have told me if they didn't--but they were all so passionate about what they took the story to mean that I believed them. It was almost as though we were discussing a stranger's book that we all liked and related to. I recommend the experience to anyone. Was I nervous before hand? Sure. Am I glad I did it? Absolutely.

Progress

Just look at that word-count meter! Woot! I've been working like a demon on Stormy Weather and it's looking pretty decent. I'm letting my fabulous non-writer reader get his hands on it Friday. I can't wait to see what he has to say. He always has great insights and spot-on advice and I know he'll help me bring this puppy home. I'd really like to send it out to agents by October 15th. Okay, so that's like a month past my original deadline but it's not bad considering said deadline was completely arbitrary. And it's before WFC, which is a plus.

This weekend I'll work on the mundane SF story. After Stormy Weather hits the public I'll get to work on the AI and teen witch outlines. If I've learned anything from SW it's that I need an outline, the more specific the better. More work at the front end means less angst on the back end. I'd like to have detailed outlines on both of them hammered out by the end of the year. Preferably by December so I can start putting those bad boys on paper. Fingers crossed!

I feel like Jodi Meadows

Yesterday I came up with a new idea for a book. Or, more precisely, a shadow of an idea for a book. A YA contemporary murder mystery/fantasy set in an all-girl's school. Or maybe not that last bit. I dunno quite yet. It will require a little bit of research into witchcraft, I think. I picture the feeling as a little goth and a little creepy.

This is jostling for time with the AI/autism idea that's been sprouting roots. That one is firmly an adult novel with lots of political and emotional undertones. Lots of research for that, too.

Do I have an outline for either of these? Of course not, silly. That comes after the mundane sf short. And the pile of research.

I'm nearly giddy. Being excited about two new book ideas rocks!

Happy Anniversary

So me and Ken celebrated 9 years of marriage last night. Sheesh. I've known him for 12 1/2 years, and it simultaneously feels like I just met him and I've known him forever. Where does the time frickin' go? We had a wonderful dinner, rented The Illusionist, and uh ... lounged. Ken got me a new journal and journal case; I got him some new cologne. good day.

I'm hosting bookclub next Monday night. This means I'll spend Sunday cleaning and cooking. I'm actually looking forward to that, in a sick and twisted way. Right now I'm thinking brownies and spinach-artichoke dip. I need a few other things, too. And wine. Mmmm, wine.

RIP

James Rigney, JR (aka Robert Jordan) died at 2:45 p.m. on September the 16th. I'm a little out of sorts. While I've been writing off and on since grade school, one could say that reading RJ's Wheel of Time series pushed me over the edge of "wannabe-someday writer" to "serious-someday writer." Weather or not you liked his books, his impact on the industry is undeniable. He will be missed.