Where Personal and Professional Life Collide...

for the first time, I actually kept file of deleted bits from THE COLD EYE. Hey, waste not, want for something to post, not. Or something.


She was reminded suddenly of old Abraham, who had taught them how to find trouble at the table. “A player too focused on the game has too much to lose,” the old ex-slave had said, stern as a judge. “You be wary of anyone who won’t look up and meet your eyes.”

Gabriel had looked into her eyes, first off.


And now you can look at a snippet of what IS in the book...

Sent agent email with proposed title of new book. Have not yet gotten panicked "oh god no that's horrible no!" response.

Next up: editor.


Here, have some non-spoilery bits:

The ‘post’ wasn’t a post at all, not like she’d been expecting. Instead, there was a collection of bones hung on the stockade wall, some held there by thick rusty nails, others seemingly wedged into the wood like they’d grown there. Some were the size of her hand, others longer, some bleached white and others crackling-brown with age and weather, and Isobel reached out her own hand to touch one, only to pull her fingers back as though she’d been slapped.

“What is this?”

Lou’s brows drew together in confusion, her head tilting as she looked first at Isobel, then at the bones, then back at Isobel. “The wards,” as though a child should have known that.

Writers are boring when we're actually writing. I don't even have any interesting bits of new research to share, or even any cat photos (Boomer, after a rough evening on Wednesday, has been spending most of his time sleeping in the bedroom. Castiel has discovered that Spring! means Birds! and has spent most of the day in the window, bitching because he can't teleport through glass.)

And me, mostly I'm at the keyboard, bleeding onto the pages. In a good, mostly-productive, and almost-healthy way.

So what's everyone else up to?



And for those of you who don't mind reading excerpts from something you won't see for another 15 months...


“So where are we heading now?” she asked, sitting down to wait for the coffee to be ready. He handed her an apple, slightly mushy but still edible, and she ate it, waiting for his answer.

“I’d thought to head north” he said slowly. “Originally, take you up to the Lakota and their kin. I’ve friends there, and they could be useful to you.”

“Not now?”

He glanced sideways at the magician, who was moving through some sort of slow movements, like knife practice without a knife, away from the fire. “Devorah said there was trouble south of us. And the storm you saw coming in, it came over the Mother’s Knife, right?”

She nodded, chewing and swallowing before answering. “Yes.”

“That’s here,” and he drew a wavering line in the dirt with his finger. “The territory extends here,” and he drew another line, “and here,” and the line bent away from the first line at an angle. “There hasn’t been any noise of unrest we’ve heard, north of here,” and his finger rested on a spot in the dirt.

“We haven’t been that far north,” Izzy said, then squinted at the makeshift map. “I think.”

“You tell me, then. Is it north of us?”

“Perhaps indeed I was, and perhaps I wasn’t and what’s dead to the wind and bones?” He spoke lightly, but there was a deepness to it that Izzy felt, the way she thought she’d feel loneliness or sorrow, an ache that stretched from her mouth to her ribs, a twisting line of darkness, hard and hollow.


Occasionally, this book fucking guts me. Those are the good writing days.


Averaging about 10k/week on this, and another 5K/week on the 4th Gin & Tonic. I'd like to do more, but then I'd be falling behind on other (editorial-ish) deadlines, and that's a no-go.  Still, if I can keep this up reasonably well, the deadlines will come at an easy trot, not a mad, heart-thumping dash.

That would be a nice change.

http://www.lauraannegilman.net/occasionally-the-writer-writes/


I'm stil waiting on revision notes for SOUL OF FIRE, and I'm not scheduled to start on G&T #3 until 1 March, so I've been working on New Project #2, also known for now as The Left Hand. (or, "the book NOT called TDW")

So today I pulled up my Big Writer Pants and sent the first three chapters (rough draft) of the TLH to my alpha reader, aka "the willing victim."

TWV came back with amazing speed (bless her) with some pointed comments about what wasn't working, some useful advice that made me wail but nod, and overall the response that it did not make her weep the bad tears, and in fact might not suck*. And she GOT what I was trying to do, which is tell a different kind of coming-of-age story, with a notably different judgment-of-society.

So yeah, I think I might be on the right track with this one.  Onward!

darlings of the day:

He waited, his hat in his lap, heels on the floor, conscious of the pistol at his side and how utterly useless it would be, if the judgement went against him.

and

There were no windows in his office, but she thought sunlight might pick out a few more silver strands in his hair, now.  His shirt was open at the neck, vest undone and no cravat around his neck, so she could see his Adam’s apple move when he spoke.



*or, in non-writer terms, she liked it.

Probably won't make Draft on "Promises to Keep" today, since I have a breakfast meeting and then afternoon plans to see The Hobbit  (yes, I know, but it's THE HOBBIT. I have to give the first segment a chance, right?).  However, Draft status seems imminent this weekend....

"Alfred knew he sounded like an idiot. He felt like one, too. 'You’re insane. Never mind about taking me home. I’ll call my wife and deal with the fallout the way I should have two days ago.'&rdquo

And so, we slip into mid-December. I've been waiting for four things that are still on my Pending List (3 different callbacks and 1 set of contract papers from a small press), but the reality is that odds are nothing will actually happen before January. End-of-year is like Friday... you know if it doesn't happen NOW, it's not going to happen for a while. All you can do is sulk be patient.

Plus, my traditional plan is to shut down shop on the 21st and not pick up the workload again until 2 January. The last ten days of the year are for Recovery.

However, there are still Things On The To-Do List for 2012:

1. finish the draft of "Promises to keep"
2. revise the first Kickstarter "bonus" story and prep for e-release
3. start renovations on the website (relaunch in 2013)
4. Another chunk of work on Unsold Project #1
5. work on the story that's due in January. Oh, wait - TWO stories that are due in January.
6.get contracts out to new clients

also: make a lot of cookies, go to a few parties, and mail out those last few presents and books....  

I got this covered.  More coffee, please?

From the fantasy WiP draft, in which our heroine has an encounter with a Jenny Greenteeth, a river sprite.
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“Relax, human,” the river spirit said, still grinning. “I’m no brownie-man, to begrudge you your place in the court. She uses us as she will, and we take what she gives.”

“And what is she giving you?” Jan asked. They’d known there were supers following the preter queen willingly, but not why, not beyond vague guesses and suspicions.

“Entertainment,” Greenteeth said, her slim form dancing around Jan, forcing the human to turn in order to keep the super in sight at all times. “It will not be dull, while she is here. Allies and enemies, plots and plans, whispers and hisses.”

“Stirring the pot?”

“Yesssss…..” Those black eyes sparked with something deep in the pupils, and Jan knew she should be disturbed, maybe even frightened, but suddenly Greenteeth seemed less frightening than, somehow, endearing.

“Jenny. Are you glamouring me?” Jan tried to sound stern, but her voice cracked on the last word.

“Heeeee. Human who smells of kelpie knows better. I don’t have to try, you’re already halfway there.” The Greenteeth leaned forward and pressed her lips to Jan’s, a warm, wet tongue darting out to lick her once, quickly, before the super had danced away again.

“That’s sexual harassment!” Jan yelled after her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, but she was laughing despite herself.

Sunday is a day of rest.... in someone else's world, maybe.  I woke up this morning with the missing piece to the "how Jerzy ended
up w/ the slavers" story I'll be writing as a Kickstarter pledge-bonus. It's... kinda evil.  Who knew?  (my lizard-brain, apparently)

But this one, I'm not touching until we hit 100% funding. Yeah, we're only (!) $500 away, but that's a bonus, and bonuses don't kick in until we make goal.  Holy...did I just say we're $500 away?  I did.  We are!  Are you in, yet?  And remember, if you want to give the ebook as a gift to someone else, we can arrange a gift certificate for that! :-)


from today's WiP:

“What are they doing?”
“I have no idea.”
The Solitaire joined Rini at the railing,their evening walk interrupted by a flurry of activity on the other ship. Several of the crew seemed to be lowering something alongside, down into the waters, while others were busy unfurling the sails.
“Do they intend to leave?”
“At sunset? “ The Solitaire looked doubtful. “But they are Iajan, and Iajans are madder than most. It’s part of their charm.”


Want to know more? Make with the click-and-support!
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In other news, I hope to have Updates on the Mystery this week... but not yet.  Ditto, on the 4th PSI novel.  I'm waiting on two different editors, at two different companies, to work things through two different pipelines.  *flails*

Other than that, I am terribly boring.  I eat leftovers, drink tea, and watch the cats sleeping while I type.  I might - gasp - do laundry this afternoon.  O! the Glamor!