Thanks to the Reader who sent me the link…

…Japhrimel has a fanlisting.

*grin*

It’s that time of the week again, Readers.

The time for you to calculate pi by throwing hot dogs?

No, sillies. Time for the Thursday Revue! I’ve been finishing about a book a day, and you’re going to suffer enjoy it right along with me.

Read On, If You Dare »

I’m not going to make it in NaNoWriMo. I can tell. Not because I’m not writing–the Valentine book has taken off and I’m noodling with other stuff. I do turn out a few thousand words a day, between six and eight if all is going well, two or three if it’s a busy day and I’m not constantly at the keyboard. But that’s neither here nor there.

I’m not going to make it in NaNo because the creative act, for me, rarely goes in a straight line. It dips, swerves, goes in spirals, comes back, wanders away to check out what the cows are doing, and comes home swinging its milk bucket with a dreamy look on its face.

Creativity has never been a straight line for me. Way leads on to way, and even when I plot (I did do a bit of outlining on Devil in Love while stuck) the story takes off in another direction (like how it’s not two demons fighting, now it’s Danny and another demon, and the Knife that cuts demonflesh between them…) and surprises me. Hence my nervousness sometimes. Writing is often like be-bopping along a forest path and having a story whirlwind out of the forest like the Tasmanian Devil.

Urbbblgggrrrrrtttt! Vorpel blade goes snicker-snack, and if you’re not dead you have a story to tell.

The Selkie pointed out to me the other day that I know I can produce that kind of word count. The trouble is, my Muse wants to work on two or three things at a time. She’s not satisfied with settling into the traces and finishing one story, oh no. The wench has ADD. And if a story’s not moving, she’s not budging until she has the next few bits of it mapped out.

This is why “filling the well” is so bloody important. The higher the water in the well is (i.e., the more bits and pieces of pretty shiny stuff) the better the Muse can digest for a snackie to fuel the next twist in the road. I told someone the other day that writing is a numbers game in more ways than one. You don’t just use the numbers theory* in submitting. You use it in creation too. I don’t “finish” more things than other writers. I just work in volume.

Speaking of filling the well, I’ve been reading like crazy, finishing about a book a day. Some of these I’ve been working on for a while, but others I just pick up and gulp down. if this keeps up my TBR pile may look less like Everest and more like a ravaged village after the Goths.

One can always hope, can’t one? In any case, I suspect tomorrow will be review day. Huzzah.

Stay warm, Readers. There is a thin scrim of snow out here, but it’s not even enough to cover the grass. Still, it’s cold. My toesies are chilled. Perhaps I should consider socks or other warm footwear, but I hate wearing stuff on my feet in the house. If I can’t be barefoot here, where CAN I be barefoot?

* The numbers theory of submissions is this: keep submitting different things and sooner or later, someone will want to buy something. The more work you have out, the more odds are on your side. This presupposes, of course, that you keep writing and (the big thing) improving your craft, not just flogging one dead horse you wrote back in high school.

You know you have wonderful geek friends when one sends you an email that starts “I’M IN UR SIETCH, BEIN UR KWISATZ HADERACH.” You further know you are a geek when you look at it and think, off the top of your head, “Huh. Spelled it right, too.”

I love my friends.

In other news, I am currently wondering if insomnia is a writer’s disease or just my particular curse. It was five o’clock this morning before I could sleep. Of course, the Market Spice Tea I took down at nine PM might have had something to do with it. I don’t have caffeine after about two PM because I do have such trouble sleeping. I thought black tea with wonderful spicy herbs might be fine. Maybe it wasn’t.

On to other news–contest news, as a matter of fact!

Congratulations to Kimberley Stouffer, who won the First Come First Served contest for a free signed copy of Dead Man Rising. Also congrats to Bridget, who was the first winner of the Valentine Trivia Contest. (For those of you who participated, no, Sargon Corvin isn’t Jace’s foster father. It was Santino’s Mob name.)

Those contests were sadly only for subscribers to The Dark Side, my newsletter. However, there are other contests going on that I can invite the world into now that the Dark Siders have heard about them first.

* The Japhrimel Slogan Contest This contest is all about Japhrimel. Send a witty slogan suitable for coffee mugs and bumper stickers here. (Be sure to put “Japhrimel Slogan Contest” in the subject line!) The five best ones will be voted on by the fantastic Dark Siders. The first-place winner will get a free coffee mug or bumper sticker with their slogan as well as have the resulting item in my CafePress shop named after them.

* The Valentine Art Contest Artists, this one’s for you! Send me a JPG of original artwork inspired by the Valentine series. Most entries will go in a Fan Art Gallery I’m about to stick onto my website. The winner of this contest will get a signed copy of Dead Man Rising and may even get a signed-by-me print of their submission, probably through CafePress as well. Send your art as an attachment here. Be sure to put “Valentine Art Contest” in the subject line or your entry will go into the rubbish bin. (Hint: There’s an upcoming Japhrimel-only art contest after the first of the year, artists!)

* The Watcher Short Fiction Contest The response to the Dead Man Rising Fiction Contest was so tremendous I’ve decided to do the same with the Watcher series. Send me a short piece of original fiction (12-14K words max) set in the Watcher’s world. The pieces will be judged by me and possibly my beta readers, depending on volume. The winner will receive signed copies of Fire Watcher and Cloud Watcher, and the three runners-up will be put in a PDF along with the winner and made available through my website. The entries must be sent here, with “Watcher Fiction Contest” in the subject line. Submissions must be double-spaced, with page numbers, with at least 12pt Courier or Times New Roman type. Submissions that don’t meet this criteria won’t be looked at. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE pay attention to the subject line on your submission for all three contests! I am asking for these to keep my email inbox organized; submissions who don’t meet the subject line criteria will be trashed without being opened. I’m sorry, but due to the response volume, that’s the way it is.

These three contests will close January 31, 2007, so you have plenty of time during and after this crazy holiday season. I will announce winners February 15, 2007. Good luck!

We’re expecting snow today, which will be nice for the Little Prince and Princess. The DHM just called to tell me it’s snowing up north where he is. I of course cautioned him to leave early enough to get home safe. People around here go crazy when it snows. Not like Wyoming, where they just shrug and get out the shovels and chains. It happens so infrequently in this corner of the world that everyone gets a bit overexcited.

Stay warm today, everyone.

Dear Readers,

If you ordered the Cloud Watcher ebook from Fictionwise, be ready for a little surprise at the end. That ebook is missing four or five chapters at the end. It is NOT a “To Be Continued.” (I wouldn’t do that without warning you. Really.) The proper file has been uploaded (the publisher contacted me yesterday about it) and Fictionwise should be sending out replacements very soon.

The publisher expressed her regrets and is working to fix the situation. If you don’t get your replacement, be sure to email your ebook vendor and point this out! Alas, such things happen sometimes. I hope it doesn’t impair your enjoyment of Jack and Anya’s story too much. I should note that the paper version of the book does NOT share this flaw, it is fully complete.

I had a lovely quiet Turkey Day, mostly spent in silence with a few books. The Sullen Teenager played WoW for hours, and I actually got some housework done as well as watching Battleship Potemkin. The DHM, Little Prince, and Princess were in Olympia eating and laughing, and came home very tired and very happy.

I hope your Thanksgiving was as nice and restful as mine.

Yesterday I:

* knocked out another couple thousand words
* said some things I’ve been meaning to for a very long time and felt lighter
* deleted my WoW character
* read The Book Thief and Nabokov’s Mary.
* did NOT get around to hoovering like I wanted to.
* went for a long walk in the rain and dark, feeding the Muse with streetlight shine and quiet dark houses.

The Kiwi wanted to know if The Book Thief was any good. I thought it was fantastic, despite some glaring missteps. But any book narrated by Death and set in Nazi Germany is going to have a few rough patches. Plus, it’s an ARC, and my inner editor screamed over a few typos. The story goes like this: Liesel Meminger is a foster child in prewar Germany. Her mother can’t afford to keep her and her brother, so she is going to Munich to give them to the agency. (Liesel’s father was a Communist, and so the mother is under Nazi suspicion and ineligible for membership in the Party.) On the train to Munich, Liesel’s brother dies, and Liesel steals her first book. She doesn’t steal for the book itself–she can’t read.

Liesel ends up at the house of Rosa and Hans, both odd people. Hans is a housepainter and accordionist. Rose is a washerwoman with a foul mouth and a cardboard face. What I loved most about this book was the portrayal of Rosa and other flawed human beings–we meet someone and are told the most unappetizing things about them, but as we get to know them through the book we can learn to forgive–or not to forgive, as the case may be–their behavior, viewing it in the best or the worst possible light.

I think the book would have been better without the “narrated by Death!” thing, but I don’t think it would have gotten published despite the incandescent passages–of which there are no few. Everything in the book seemed inevitable, which is one of the highest praises I can give a literary fiction author. If everything is set up believably to make tragedy and comedy inevitable, then I think an author’s done his or her job.

The Book Thief isn’t for everyone. For some, the “Death as narrator!” thing will grate, and there are enough missteps to infuriate a not-so-patient reader. But it’s still worth a read in trade paper, I think, or mass-market if you can find it. (I only have an ARC but I’m thinking of getting a trade paper for the missing artwork.) Plus, it’s a story about a girl who steals books and in the process discovers the power of words–but not because she steals books, because someone loves her enough to teach her. Which is enough to make even the missteps okay in my book.

Nabokov’s Mary was his first published novel, and I loathe the protaganist almost as much as I love Nabokov’s writing, which is always a treat. Ganin is a self-centred emotionally-abusive pig. But…Nabokov’s writing. Mmmh.

Besides, as I have pointed out ad nauseum, it is no crime to make a character others love or hate. The thing a writer should fear is creating a character others can remain indifferent to. All the same, Mary wasn’t my favorite Nabokov. I think I shall go read Invitation to a Beheading again.

I feel much better, but the fever has spiked again today. Which means everything looks like it’s underwater, and my ears are ringing that high tone that often happens while I’m in the funny space between fever and getting better.

I am shamefully behind on putting together the contests and giveaways. This week I need to post some books to Demented Michelle so she can do giveaways, and also come up with trivia questions for the Dark Side newsletter contest.

Not wanting to exercise today. Not wanting to do much of anything beyond cuddle up with a blankie and suck on a bottle full of cranberry juice (vodka optional, but only because it’s too damn much work to open the bottle and the alcohol will only make me feel worse. A hot buttered rum does sound REALLY good to me right now, tho’.)

So…the fifth Valentine book. 32K words and (kind of) going strong. The bones are there under the surface, I just need to sit down and excavate them. Coming up is the showdown in Hajya Sofya (yes, I know, misspelled, but it is an alternate universe) and Danny looking through the book; also coming up is a conversation with Tiens the Nichtvren Hellesvront agent and a running fight through a city with McKinley saving Danny’s bum more than once. Where is Japh during all this, I’d like to know? He’s being cagey. “Just…flying around.” is all he says. But that won’t fly. I’m going to have to hold him down and pressure him to make him talk. I suspect he’s about to endure something unpleasant, that always makes him uncommunicative. The duel with Sephrimel (provisional name, all) is bound to be juicy, full of gore and guts, and very readable. I hope, at least.

Good Lord. Yes, these are the things I think about.

All right. Time for more ibuprofen and a good dose of typing about the characters in my head. Bwahahahaha. (Evil chuckle.)

And this afternooon, a hot buttered rum. mmmmh.

Because I am tired, and sick, and about to throw in the towel on this Internet thing for the day so I can go curl up in the papasan and write. For that is, you know, the best therapy for me. Here’s ten things you probably didn’t know about me.

1. Yes, I was a massage therapist. I was a good one, too. I stopped doing it because of insurance companies.

2. I have recently begun to play World of Warcraft. It’s all the Sullen Teenager’s fault. Monk says it’s a sign that a video game has officially taken over the world.

3. My favorite movie is Dead Poet’s Society.

4. I love the Pacific Ocean. I love it most of all when it’s cold and story up around Rialto Beach. Which is one of my favorite places in the whole wide world.

5. I talk to trees. I also talk to cats and dogs as if they are children. All three (cats, dogs, children) seem to enjoy it. The trees don’t express a preference one way or another.

6. I love rosemary.

7. I view writing as a kind of a obsession. I don’t necessarily write because I like to. I write because I must.

8. I love dark chocolate and crunchy peanut butter. Together. Mmmmh.

9. The smell of paper and dust in a bookstore makes me feel safe.

10. A plum tree in blossom once saved my life in that most ordinary of ways–by being a reminder that beauty exists even in the most sterile deserts of no hope.

There. Ten things you probably didn’t know about me. Now I have to go write. Have a wonderful weekend, Readers.

And what you get is smoke. Lots of it.

First order of business: hello to a fan. I hear Ellen over at B & J Metal Fab is a big fan, and that she reads my blog religiously. Hello, Ellen! Let the DHM know if you need any books signed. It’s the least I can do for such a great Reader. *grin* The DHM laid odds that you’d faint if I mentioned you in my blog, so be sure to let him know whether you’ve lost consciousness or not. *bigger grin*

Next up: WHY DOES MY MUSE TORTURE ME SO? I keep getting to 20-30K on the fifth Valentine book and then having to throw the damn thing out because the characters get bloody stubborn. It’s enough to make a writer go looking for the Muse with a mallet. The b!tch needs to get her pretty little bum in gear. I’ve got a bloody deadline for this book and I already feel late because I like to be ahead of deadline. Way ahead of deadline. I couldn’t care less if I’m behind on my own doctor’s appointments (I hate doctors, but I take the kids religiously) but being less than a few months early on a deadline just kills me.

I’m built funny that way.

Both the Princess and the Little Prince are sniffly and mucusy today. Gods bless Triaminic. I’m not feeling a hundred percent myself, but the vitamins B and C seem to be helping. I don’t want to miss tango or shooting tonight–I think I want to venture into downtown Portland and get some more shots. Don’t worry–the Sullen Teenager probably won’t let me go alone. He seems to think I’m in some kind of danger in rough neighborhoods alone at night. When I point out that I don’t carry any cash and I’m too pudgy to be considered attractive, he just snorts. I don’t know what he thinks a gangly sixteen-year-old will do to deter anyone seriously set on mayhem or my camera, but the DHM feels better when someone is out with me after dark and so does Sixten (aka Monk) So I guess I’ll drag Sullen Teen along, unless he’s a sickie. In which case it’s tango and shooting by my own sweet self, and damn all the torpedoes. I was hanging out on Yesler in Seattle when I was much younger, not to mention University Avenue back when it was a rough part of town, mecca for the homeless before the urban renewal.

In other news, I am listening to Blue October’s latest over and over and over again. (look out, that’s their MySpace page. Sorry about that.) It’s called Foiled, and it’s chock-full of Muse crack. (The girl is gulping it down.) Especially track 5, titled Hate Me.

I’m sober now for 3 whole months it’s one accomplishment that you helped me with
The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won’t touch again
In my sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate
You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take
So I’ll drive so f****g far away that I never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

Oh. My. God. The whole song makes me think of a private investigator, some of whose jobs are more interesting than others, and the dame he has trouble not loving. It’s also filling up the well that gives birth to both the Valentine and Kismet stories. (ooh, more about that later, I am so excited…)

Ah, the Little Prince has perked up. He’s making interesting hooting noises out the front door like a baboon. Gods love my children.

Last night we watched Psycho and The Omen–the originals, both. Anthony Perkins and Gregory Peck, what a pair! Perkins was wonderful, and I’d never seen the whole movie all the way through–just clips. The Omen was of course a classic, but it irritated me almost beyond bearing. I love a Richard Donner movie, and I adore Gregory Peck (Atticus Finch was my first movie love) but the idea that God would ask a man to kill a five-year-old boy rubbed me the wrong way. If I’d been Ambassador Thorn I would have sat the kid down and said, “Look, I know you’re a bit weird. But I’m your dad, I’ve changed your diapers, and I love you. So quit killing people, will you? How about we go to Hawaii and learn to surf instead?” Chances are Damien would have agreed.

But then there would have been no movie. Some of the imagery in the film is chilling, I’ll give it that. But we MST3K’d it so hard I’m surprised the DVD isn’t scorched. Ah well. Classics sometimes get a little less…classic.

Oh, last thing. I got some BPAL the other day. The scents are: Chuparosa, Harlot, Bordello, and Seraglio, plus a whole clutch of imps. After the Selkie and the Kiwi go through the imps, I might start reviewing them like Jess Hartley does. That’s such a good idea. The DHM won’t let me smelly him up (all that stuff makes him sneeze) but the Sullen Teenager actually enjoys being fussed over and bedecked with sniffies. He’s a strange child.

Whoops! Really last thing, I promise. There are upcoming giveaways, since I have my Cloud Watcher and Dead Man Rising author’s copies now.

That is all. I promise.

The Kiwi and I have this thing where we do a Cartman voice (if you don’t watch South Park, it’s time to start, dudes) and say, “Penguin luuuv is the sweetest luuuuuuuv…”

So what else could I do but immortalize it in a coffee mug?

Here’s small penguin love. For those of you a bit braver, here’s bigger penguin love.

Yes, I know. I should be working. So sue me. Snerk.