Pages for my July deadline have been sent off, but that doesn’t mean the pressure’s off. Lots to do, not much work time this month, especially if I want to catch up and get ahead in my schedule for edits.

Since I’m not much fun today, here’s a photo of Shiloh:

Maggie Stiefvater just kicked my butt and, if you’re a creative type, perhaps you should go let her kick yours, too.

Now, it’s time for me to take a shower, run my errands, and go hope I don’t blow up the mail room at the office. Everything was relatively unscathed after yesterday, but I don’t expect it to last. After all, I’m only pretending I know what I’m doing in there.

Then it’ll be back here for some writing. Because I’m a writer, and that’s what I do.

Deadline work continues. I really dislike rewriting scenes. Some edits are quick and easy, and others are rather like slogging through knee-deep mud with two feet of water on top of that. I’m currently working through a section of the latter, which means I suspect I’ll be turning in ten chapters instead of twelve as I had hoped. But we shall see. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll develop mudshoes (like snowshoes only for mud, get it?) and start moving faster through this bit.

I just downloaded the latest Third Day album and all I have to say is that they’ve got another one on my immediate ‘favorites’ list. ‘This is Who I Am’ and ‘Revelation’ are my current favorites, but I’m sure it will all even out over time.

If you were condemned to a life of only listening to the music of two artists for the rest of your life (if they’re still producing, you would have access to new albums as they came out), who would you choose?

For me? Third Day and Billy Joel. I think all life circumstances can be encountered appropriately with one or the other.

How about you?

I was just making a list of the things I need to do in the next few months (and the things I’m doing whether I need to or not, like driving to central New York) and I feel a distinct knot of panic settling somewhere in the vicinity of my stomach. The next month is particularly panic-inducing.

Someone (*coughcough* Will *cough*) suggested that I might have to curtail my reading for a while. Can you hear me wailing like the Wicked Witch of the West in the shower?

Remember how we’re out of chocolate chips and potatoes? Harbingers of the apocalypse? Clearly, I was not exaggerating.

After a very nice, relaxed visit, my parents are safely home in Ohio.

I used this afternoon to catch up with several things that have been shoved to the periphery of my attention lately, and did a fair job of catching them up – not entirely there yet, but it’s getting closer.

I am, yet again, behind on my reading journal. Drat it all.

Plan of action for tomorrow:

1. Stay indoors. We’re in the middle of what is apparently a record heat wave, or so I heard someone say on the radio earlier. I think this is a length record not a high temps record, but I was only half paying attention, so I could be mixed up. At any rate, I’ll be indoors, which will facilitate:
2. Turn the guest room back into an office. Yes, amazing as it may seem, I’d like to get the two rolling desk chairs out of my closet and back in the office where they belong. Call me crazy.
3. Catch up on all the laundry – this includes clothing I put off washing this week and all the bedding and towels involved in entertaining guests. (Ha, yes, I entertain guests with my towels. You’ll have to be a guest to learn more.)
4. Restock the pantry. Over the course of the week, I found that we’re almost out of flour and brown sugar, and we are entirely out of potatoes and semi-sweet chocolate chips. These things are unthinkable and might, in fact, signal a close brush with the apocalypse. Also, Matt is getting less and less indulgent about letting me live off of oatmeal, ramen, and chicken pot pies, so I’m thinking I’ll need to pick up a few more things to round out our diet.

And that, my friends, is the battle plan. Though we all know such plans only survive the first engagement with the enemy.

. . . for the lack of posting lately. One might assume that I’ve been busy editing away at my manuscript, but one would only be partially correct. My parents are in town visiting, and between getting ready for that and a few other things, the weekend was rather busy with cleaning and other various whatnots.

Not to say that I haven’t been editing, just not as much as I had hoped.

Today Mom and I are going down to the outlet stores for some SHOPPING. Whee!

The inestimable Jim Hines, author of the Goblin books I really need to read, has provided the speculative fiction world with a gem. For anyone who’s not familiar with the song to which this obviously should be sung, just go to YouTube, look up Pirates of Penzance and listen to The Major-General’s Song.

I am the Very Model of a Modern SF Novelist

I am the very model of a modern SF novelist,
I’ve manuscripts space opera, anime, and fantasist,
I know the kings of fandom and the best flamewars historical
From Andrew Burt to LiveJournal, in order categorical;
I’m very well acquainted too, with matters editorial,
I keep my cover letters brief and never too suctorial,
About rejection etiquette I’m teeming with propriety,
With many cheerful facts about your online notoriety,
I’m very good at worldbuilding and proper use of ansibles;
I know the hyphenated names of beings unpronounceable:
In short, in matters space opera, anime, and fantasist,
I am the very model of a modern SF novelist.

I know our genre history, from H. G. Wells to Arthur Clarke,
I’ve read so much time travel, I’ve a pretty taste for paradox,
I quote in panel talks the wise advice of Crispin and Miss Snark,
I study wormholes, galaxies and theories about matter dark;
I can tell a work professional from books Publish America,
I know the Eye of Argon from Conan of Cimmeria!
Then I can hum the melody from every last John Williams score,
And whistle all the airs from that infernal film Fantastic Four.
I’ll write you books of goblin war and princesses who won’t conform,
And tell show you every detail of a goblin warrior’s uniform:
In short, in matters space opera, anime, and fantasist,
I am the very model of a modern SF novelist.

In fact, when I know what is meant by “grok” and “droid” and “FTL”,
When I can tell at sight the sword Excalibur from Anduril,
When twists in stories I perceive by reading just one paragraph,
And when I know precisely how to pen a clever epigraph,
When I have followed breakthroughs yearly in e-book technology,
When I know more of grammar than my profs from University–
In short, when you run out and buy and read every last book by me–
You’ll say a better novelist has never writ a fantasy.
My works even appear in many dialects European,
Thanks to the perserverence of my agent JABberwockian;
In short, in matters space opera, anime, and fantasist,
I am the very model of a modern SF novelist.

Fantastic job, Jim! Bravo!

Originally posted here.

I’m writing today. Or, at least, I will be writing. Soon. Really, I promise.

And since I know you all need entertainment while I work, and since I don’t have any pictures of Shiloh handy, I give you (trumpet fanfare here) AN EXCERPT! Okay, so it’s more of a tiny sample, but you have no room to complain. I could have just not posted anything at all.

Anyway, this is from Kerris’s point of view. (She’s the heroine.) She’s snuck away from her aunt and uncle’s country manor to relax:

A ribbon of light brown road stretched before me against the patchwork of green fields. I jogged the mile or so to the southern hay field, paused for a last set of stretches, and started my first lap. Each deep breath, every firm strike of my heels and push of my toes for another stride chipped away a piece of the unseen weight I carried every day.

When Tynan and I arrived at Ashbourne after our parents’ death, Vanora took one look at me and resolved to turn my attention to ladylike pursuits. She said it was clear that my parents had let me run wild. I didn’t tell her how often my mother scolded me without effect for my behavior, but I soon found that Vanora possessed an iron will my mother had lacked.

There you go. Marginal proof that I am, in fact, writing a novel that has words and sentences and paragraphs and characters with problems to solve. I know, none of you say anything, but I know you wonder what I really do with all my time. There’s a book! I promise!

And now I must go revise it.

Awake and Dressed: Check
Sitting in Coffee Shop: Check
Ate Fabulous Blueberry Mini-Bundt Cake: Check
Have Bottomless Cup of Coffee: Check
YouTube Diversion Finished: Check
Have Manuscript To Work On: Check

Looks like there’s no further excuse to put off the work. Here’s to a productive day.

Yesterday I made notes on another quarter of the manuscript, and today I started in on translating those notes back to the computer. I worked through a whopping six pages of manuscript today, which doesn’t seem like much on the surface. On the other hand, these pages were the former opening of the novel, which means a lot needed to be adjusted – a lot of backstory and setup for upcoming events has already been established with the new beginning, but I had to be careful that I didn’t cut important details that hadn’t been mentioned yet.

And, of course, about halfway through the second scene, it was like Donald Maass was looking over my shoulder, pointing to bits of my scenes and saying, “Why is this so easy for Kerris? You need more tension! There needs to be some sense that she might fail!” Garrrr. More work, but it will make the book better, so it’s worth it.

At any rate, tomorrow’s my day at the office that pays me by the hour, so I’ll have to wait until evening to work on the novel.

Ah, and for the sake of keeping up, I’ve ironed out 24% of the draft, based on word count.