My weekly post at The Midnight Hour is up. I was inspired by Angela James’s recent RTB post about one-manuscript writers. I do have a sort of law about one-ms-writers: thy first book shall not ever sell, for even if it doth not stink your pimpage of it reeketh most hardily. Heh.
Maybe I’ll get a lot of flak for it, because I feel strongly about this. I avoided the one-manuscript trap by sheer chance, because I wanted to write a trilogy and was too dumb to get scared after I finished the first book. Once I finished the second, it was like, “oh hey, I can keep doing this! What do you know? Wow.”
Now, twenty-two finished manuscripts later, it’s almost old hat for me to have two books cooking at once. As soon as I finish one project I’m on to the next, without giving myself a chance to get cold. I leave selling them to my wonderful, beautiful agent, thank God; that’s not my job anymore. I’m happy to be free just to bumble around and write whatever takes my fancy.
I really do honestly think you can’t just finish one book and stop. (Again, don’t bring up Harper Lee. She’s an anomaly.) To be a writer and have any kind of shot at selling something you need to produce an oeuvre and keep producing, to up the statistical chance of someone liking something you’ve done.
Oh, and to hone your craft. That too.
In other news, things are looking up. The DHM’s dad is back at home after an operation, and seemingly doing fine. We’re beginning to discuss what we’ll do if there’s another medical emergency or if he’s (God forbid) unable to care for himself anymore. It’s one of those discussions you never want to have but that are absolutely necessary, and the DHM understands that. We’re all just glad Oji-san is still around to have the conversation with.
Thanks to everyone for all the good thoughts, support, and wonderful emails sent (especially Reader Tami Hawes, who send a very timely reminder. Thanks, Tami!) All the positive energy really helped.
Ahoy, mateys! No, I will not be doing this post in Piratespeak. I just wanted to start things out with a little salt.
So, the big news is next week the new website may launch. The designer thinks it’s probable, possible, and maybe even going to happen a little sooner. For those of you curious about such things, it’s Kuma Digital, and the new site will look LOVELY. I was SO ready for a new look. And really, I’m okay with the HTML but I’m no graphic designer, so I need all the help I can get. Thank goodness for these folks.
I was getting kind of nervous, since a professional website is getting to be a necessity for me. Speaking of which, Cheyenne McCray had a great idea and asked 11 agents and publishers about Web presence and other things over at The Midnight Hour. It’s worth a read.
The thing that comes home from this is: when you’re on the Web you’re in public. Don’t go out half-dressed or spouting idiotic stuff, because it WILL come back to haunt you. It may not seem like it, but I’m careful what I put in my journal. My Readers’ liking for and interest in a window into my personal life has to be balanced against professional behavior and protecting the privacy of my kids. Better to think about it before you start out, or when you Hit It Big (knock on wood) something will come back to bite you.
I am always amazed by the people to write and submit to publishers but don’t take time to seriously think about image and branding. *boggles* These issues can make the difference in so many ways, and thinking seriously about them in the beginning saves you lots of heartache later.
Anyway, I’ve got copyediting to eye, since I finished the proof pages. So I shall bow out. Thundercats, ho!
You ever get that feeling? Like one day you’re going to peel off your human skin and reveal the form underneath, and when the ship drops from the sky you’ll be there with suitcase in hand and towel over shoulder–because, you know, you can’t hitchhike the galaxy without a towel, fer Chrissake.
So last night I was kept up late by a nervous breakdown (not my own) and just about to fall asleep when there was an unholy scream. One of the kids was having a bad time of it. So I went into full Mummy mode, and guess what I was told.
“Go away. I’m tired.” The kid promptly rolled back over and went to sleep, and I contemplated the infinite wisdom of the Universe in barring human females from eating their young. Then I contemplated that such rules were made to be broken, and I have a crock pot and an oven.
I hope everyone reading will be able to see or at least sense my tongue firmly in cheek here.
So there I was, adrenaline pouring through my highways and byways, and sleep an utter impossibility. And around about four the doldrums hit, hard.
Why could I not have been born a day person? Why do I have to be one of the night tribe? Yes, I know the beauty of deserted city streets and the sad sweet bitterness of a train’s call at midnight, I know the hush that falls when the world tips toward dawn, and I know those moments of blessed silence softer than velvet when the streets empty out and the world’s shift change happens. But dammit, I have a child who is a Morning Person. And at five he was up, poking and prodding and needing, and I was worn down to the thin dime’s edge.
And contemplating the nutritive value of child cheeks.
I could have slept once the sun came up. No, really, I could. That’s when I get tired, when daylight happens.
But no dice. The day is underway and devil take the hindmost.
Today. Just like yesterday, only no sleep and a hairy eyeball to spare. The Little Prince has just had a bath (did I mention his 6AM dirt wallow? “Because it feels good, Mummy!”) and the Princess is busy in her own Barbie world, where zombies are plotting to take over the world and Ken is useless, Barbs (named Sarah in this story) has to save the day. Still no sign of the Sullen One, but he never resurrects before noon unless there’s a compelling reason–like coffee, or me dragging him from the bed.
Good morning, world. Nice to see you. Don’t take it personal, but I’m pulling the covers back over my head.
Unfortunately, I didn’t make the Carey signing last night. I was determined, but after running the Sullen One to his last day of school and coming home to find out Oji-san was actually in surgery, then with both kids coughing and the Little Prince suddenly looking sick and droopy, it began to seem like not such a good idea. The thought that I might have to drive up to Seattle after going out to Beaverton…ugh.
So I missed the signing. It wasn’t by choice, I was just exhausted and had a kid getting over a cold and another one coming down with one. It bites, really, because I adore Carey’s work. But I’m told she’ll come through again, and when she does I’ll show up with my hardbacks and a foolish grin.
Life never turns out the way you want it to.
Thankfully, though, some things turn out better than you want them to. My father-in-law made it through the operation just fine. The damage to the aorta is repaired and there’s a stent; they’re looking at (possibly) releasing him on Saturday. He’s feeling a bit under the weather, of course, now that his energy is focused on getting better instead of clinging to life.
Thanks to everyone who offered support and good thoughts during this difficult time. The Selkie and the Sullen One, in particular, have been real champs. But thanks are due as well to all the Readers who sent good wishes and thoughts. Thank you so much.
Happy Solstice! I’m listening to Jackson Browne doing “barricades of heaven,” thank you Bear.
This song just makes me want to be writing Kismet instead of tweaking Valentine. Urgh. I have first-pass pages for Valentine 4, which means it’s almost in bed and I’m almost finished with 5.
Okay. So Oji-san is going into surgery this afternoon at a new hospital; they transferred him yesterday. Since his color is good and his spirits are up, they finally decided this type of surgery is going to be best for him. Quite frankly, if he’s hung on this long he has a good chance of pulling through if they can just stop the bleeding.
*sigh* I hope it goes well. I really, really do. I miss the DHM. I am hanging on by teeth and fingernails.
IN other news, I am planning on attending the Jacqueline Carey signing at Beaverton Powells tonight. The Sullen One will help me wrangle the kids, and the Mighty Martian Crab will be there too. Plus I need to return some books to Saint Peter. But I am not going to miss the Carey signing.
I am a HUGE fan of hers. The Kushiel series, I think, is some of the best fantasy to come out in the last decade/fifteen years. (I should know, I’ve read a lot of it.) But I just fell in love the moment I opened Kushiel’s Dart and have never been disappointed since. One of the proudest moments of my life was when Ms. Carey gave Working For The Devil a cover blurb. *boggle* It was like…like…well, words can’t describe, and I hope I don’t gush too much tonight.
I’ve caught some more sleep and my eyelid has stopped twitching. Thank goodness. This has been incredibly draining.
Merry Solstice to you all. May your light and life increase.
I started the Shakespeare project and have worked my way through The Tempest. Next is Two Gentlemen of Verona, not my favorite. But I shall persevere. I keep tempting myself with Richard III.
I struggle every day with the cultural injunction to look like a twelve-year-old boy, when I am a woman of childbearing years. I’ve borne, nursed, and protected two children (and anyone else who happens along) and my body does show it. In the Renaissance I would be a goddess at my age, because I still have all my teeth and real hips. I mean, I’m glad to live today with proper plumbing and the right to vote (though the conservatives plan to strip that away probably, with my right to my own body) but I really, really have a problem with the media barrage of starving women presented as attractive.
In more important news, Oji-san is still hanging on. The kids and I spoke to him yesterday. That was difficult.
But this morning the surgeon suggested a new type of surgery, to put in an aortal stent. Human beings are very complex, and treating them is even more complex, so I can understand why things keep changing. All the same, it’s very hard on the DHM. He sounds as low as I’ve ever heard him.
I hate hearing someone in pain and being unable to help. I just HATE it. It’s the thing I hate most.
Thank you to everyone who has sent good wishes, energy, and thoughts. I really believe it helps. And it helps to know people are rooting for us. The support has just been tremendous. Thank you all.
Last of all, I’m getting first-pass pages of Saint City Sinners (Valentine 4), which is the last stage before ARCs and actual printing. That will push back the copyedits on 5, but it will also mean 4 is in bed and I don’t need to worry about it anymore.
Which will be uber-fantastic. One less thing to worry about, and God knows I need all of that I can.
I know I promised reader questions on Mondays. Unfortunately, life had other ideas today.
* My father-in-law is still in the hospital. Things are looking rather bad right now. Pardon me if I don’t give specifics. It’s just…well. ‘Nuff said.
* I got the car back. The parking brake even works. Huzzah! These guys treated me very well, indeed.
* The Princess was up at 4AM this morning with a cough and ear pain. The pain went away as soon as she sat up and blew her nose, and had a warm compress to her ear. Just drainage stuff, since she’s running no fever etc. But it was scary.
* Does two hours of sleep count as insomnia?
* The creeping crud the Princess caught has spread to the Little Prince. He’s cranky, refusing food, and only wanting to sleep. Plus, he is expressing his independence by throwing a fit every so often. And trying to refuse to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He seems to want to subsist on Goldfish crackers and Jello cups.
* I’ve started coughing and feel muzzy-headed myself, and the flushed feeling is a fever. Holding steady at 99.9, I’m dosing with tea, vitamin C, and lots of fluids. I made chicken soup, but my stomach doesn’t seem to want it, though the Sullen One assures me it’s a fine soup.
* There is a dog two or three houses away that’s been left out all day–and has complained, loudly and piteously. He sounds young. When will people realize that puppies are social animals? You wouldn’t leave a kid out in the back yard all day while you were at work, would you? Then again, people do amazingly cruel things to kids and pets all the time. *sigh*
* Driving back from the mechanic’s today, I obeyed the speed limit. People, it’s there for a reason. Tailgating me, honking, and trying to speed up and cut around me on a quiet residential street is not a good idea. I’m glad you got pulled over, Mr. Blue Honda Businessman. I hope the cop gave you a firm talking-to. I only wish the teenage girl yapping into her cell phone in her little red Toyota could have gotten pulled over too. I thought I was going to have to surgically remove her bonnet from my boot, and that’s not pleasant for everyone.
* The mechanic mentioned he wanted to read my poetry. Wow.
So. No questions today. I’m sorry. It’s taken me about five hours to put this blog post together, what with one thing and another and constant interruptions. I guess I’ll quit while I’m ahead and go take some paracetamol. Tonight I’m going to bed early, no matter what happens.
Not-so-good news this morning. I just spoke with the DHM. They canceled the esophageal observation on Oji-san (putting a fibreoptic down to check things out) this morning. They have visual confirmation the rip between the second and third layers of aorta is hemorrhaging. They say it can go anytime in the next couple of days, and it’s inoperable because Oji-san wouldn’t survive the operation.
The DHM is really feeling it. He was terribly down this morning. I don’t blame him. This is a bad turn, but I’m still holding on to hope. Stranger things have happened.
My middle sister Trish is graduating from college today. She started out in Iowa and transferred to Western not so long ago. She’s worked her butt off.
Ever since she was a little girl, Trish has been a fierce perfectionist and a staunch individualist. She’s always pushed herself to more and better, and has a shot at Stanford or Yale now for postgrad stuff. Chemistry excited her, and she plays basketball like it’s going out of style. She reads, cooks, and does all things with such elan it’s hard to remember the little kid who tied a jumprope between two trees as a finish line for a race.
Yeah, Trish, I had to mention that.
I meant to be at her commencement, but with my car in the shop and the DHM tending to his father, it just wasn’t possible. I’ll be there in spirit, yelling my head off as she walks across the stage. I am so proud of her. Both of my sisters are far braver and better than I could ever hope to be, and I feel privileged to have seen them grow up.
Congratulations, Trish. Nobody’s worked harder for this. I am so proud of you.
I’m about to go get the car out of hock again. Good things: a new timing belt and brakes, not to mention serpentine belt and tie rod. I shall drive with confidence now, knowing that user error and not mechanical failure will be the biggest of my problems.
As usual. Just like life.
And why, when I have tons of work and a copyedited Valentine 5 to go through, do I want to do nothing but work on a story that will never sell, that is the literary equivalent of Twinkies? Why, I ask you? The Muse is certainly having a good laugh at my expense, the wench.
I so need some time to myself. I need to go to the track, put my headphones in, and just…walk for a while. As soon as the DHM comes home, I think I’ll need that more than anything. I don’t know how single mums do it. Well, I do know, because I’ve done it when the Princess was small. But goddamn. It’s hard work. Why more single mums don’t come down with psychotic breaks from lack of rest I’ll never know.
Have a good weekend, Readers. I am officially declaring this Be Kind To Yourself Weekend. Do something nice for yourself, no matter how small. It’s the only way to get through. And to get things started right, here’s the Star Trek Rhapsody. I LOVE this.
