Cherie Priest

(1). Tomorrow, 7:00 p.m. at the University District bookstore — Jim Butcher will be making an appearance and you can safely bet that Team Seattle will be present to wine and dine him.

(2). Jon Armstrong interviews Night Shade Books proprietor Jeremy Lassen over here at If You’re Just Joining Us. It’s not about books, though. It’s about the suits.*

(3). Holy crap, it just thundered. It never thunders here. So. Erm. Maybe it wasn’t thunder after all. But it sure sounded like it. [Edit: Now it’s snowing.] [Edit redux: Okay, now it’s just raining.]

Today’s progress on the west coast steampunk Victoriana book with zombies, air ships, toxic gas clouds, mad scientists, dead folk heroes, secret criminal societies, and Bonus! extended deleted scenes from the Civil War:

Project: The Boneshaker
Resolution revised: Writing every day, again.
New Words: 2363
Present Total Word Count: 52,601 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Semi-accomplished escape; might have injured parties; had to shoot one of the group but hey, that’s what happens when a dumbass doesn’t get his mask on tight enough and he breaths enough poison to zombify; blew through some more ammo.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Spent half the morning on the phone with the Department of Energy and the EPA for a freelance assignment; wrote Part One of four from that freelance assignment; answered a bunch of email; talked to a friend on the phone for a bit.

Reason for Stopping: I’m getting hungry, and I’m tired of staring at the computer screen. I still need to get a little more work done tonight on Part Two of the freelance assignment, and I really need a break.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 121,201

This weekend’s progress on the west coast steampunk Victoriana book with zombies, air ships, toxic gas clouds, mad scientists, dead folk heroes, secret criminal societies, and Bonus! extended deleted scenes from the Civil War:

Project: The Boneshaker
Resolution revised: Writing every day, again.
New Words: 1790
Present Total Word Count: 50,238 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Navigated under-underground terrain on the way to safer quarters. Didn’t realize it’d gotten dark; Briar is learning that it’s hard to tell time when you spend your days scrambling through a labyrinthine warren of interconnected basements.

Darling du Jour: (Re: a lightless, cellar/sub-basement) “It smelled like wet mud and moss, and decomposing sawdust. It stunk like something unfinished and not yet born.”

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Finished up a magazine article; began reading next book for review; started organization/research for next freelance assignment (which is going to eat my life this coming week); cleaned house; accomplished grocery shopping; went and saw Run Fat Boy, Run — which was pretty cute; played Ferret Taxi;* attended a friend’s birthday party and might have overindulged a tiny bit.

Reason for Stopping: See the last line above. I’m feeling a little wrung-out and tired, and since I broke the 50,000 word mark on Boneshaker I feel like I’ve been productive enough for the weekend — despite the somewhat pathetic word count.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 118,838

For those of you who took a chance on Amazon.com’s Kindle, my first novel can now be yours in a paperless edition. Yup. Just go here to find a Kindle copy of Four and Twenty Blackbirds.

And while I’m thinking about it, in the wake of the Apex Digest site redesign, the first chapter of Not Flesh Nor Feathers got relocated to this page. So if you’d like to go peek at the Chapter One of my most recent novel, well, there you go. Have at.

Of course, if you’ve already read that chapter — or hell, anything else I’ve ever written — and you feel moved to compose something like, oh, say, I don’t know … an Amazon.com review … then I’d greatly appreciate your time and effort. No pressure or anything, and obviously, I’ll still love you if you don’t; but such things are always welcome.

Here. Let me make it easy for you:

Four and Twenty Blackbirds (ghosts: Tor)
Wings to the Kingdom (monsters: Tor)
Dreadful Skin* (werewolves: Subterranean)
Not Flesh Nor Feathers (zombies: Tor)

And in case I haven’t mentioned it today, I freakin’ adore Mark and Caitlin. They’re both sublimely entertaining; so if you ever get a chance to hear either one of them read, speak, or present at a convention, I most heartily recommend that you seize the opportunity.

One more beneath the cut — for the sake of balance.

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Today’s progress on the west coast steampunk Victoriana book with zombies, air ships, toxic gas clouds, mad scientists, dead folk heroes, secret criminal societies, and Bonus! extended deleted scenes from the Civil War:

Project: The Boneshaker
New Words: 1702
Present Total Word Count: 48,448 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Escaped from the subterranean tavern; out of frying pan, into fire. Briar continues to learn her way around this world, though her companions are reluctant to discuss certain points. The most intriguing mystery point so far seems to be a certain Dr. Minnericht, whose inventions make life easier inside the walls … but whose prices are increasingly steep and morally suspect.

Darling du Jour: “Willard lifted the lantern and Swakhammer adjusted the glass. Soon the whole tunnel was alight with a weak orange glow as wet as juice.”

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Finished Draft Zero of a freelance project; pinned down the finer points of another freelance project; unpacked from road trip; constructed the Great Road Trip post (which took longer than I’d care to admit); sorted receipts and paperwork for same; ran to the store for dishwasher detergent and deodorant.

Reason for Stopping: Tonight I want to attend the reading/signing of Mark Henry and Caitlin Kittredge over at the University Bookstore. Come on down at 7:00 p.m. and give ‘em a listen. I’ll be there; but first I need to freshen up, change clothes, track down my husband, see about supper, and more. So anyway, yeah. That’s why I’m stopping now.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 117,048

And in closing, here’s a kitty picture, just because I like this one:

Sing, muse — of six authors and one long-suffering spouse on a quest for Glory in a rented minivan.

Together we gathered one at a time, here and there, cramming into a tiny red Ford and tootling off to a park-and-drive in a town called DuPont — where we were assured the cops are bored and the parked vehicles are uncommonly safe. There, we were greeted by the minivan driver and his wife, and then we jaunted out to a place called “Lacey,” where the final member of our party awaited. And then we were seven: Mark Henry (the driver) and Mark’s wife Caroline (the navigator), Mario Acevedo (the corner sleeper), Kat Richardson (the leggy), Caitlin Kittredge (the chipper), Richelle Mead (the squished), and yours truly (the hanger-on).

We reached Portland a bit before suppertime, and although the boys’ signing was scheduled to transpire at the Beaverton Powell’s, our hotel was right down the street from the downtown location of that fine store — so we jaunted over there for an hour of vanity.

Yes, vanity. If you’ve ever wondered what published authors do in a book store, the answer is Make Giant Nuisances of Ourselves. And, er, take pictures of our own books. Because we still can’t believe anyone anywhere ever actually buys them, that’s why.

While we were there, Mark got a bee in his bonnet (or a bug up his butt, or whatever) that we were all going to sign the Great Wall of Powell’s. In case you’re unfamiliar with this concrete column of infamy, here’s the short version: it’s a painted concrete support in the center of the speculative fiction section, and lots of famous authors have signed it. It’s become such a notorious item that Powell’s keeps it under lock and key, via the application of a plexiglass sheet which is screwed down over the signatures.

I was uneasy about this. I am not half as well reputed as any of the folks whose signatures I saw; but Mark has giant swinging brass balls, and as they clanged noisily together, over the din we heard an employee inform us that he’d get a screwdriver.

In other news, Mark is totally my new hero.

And it looks like this is going to run ridiculously long, so I’m going to hide the remainder of this post behind a cut tag. Click it if you want to read the rest.

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This is not a real and proper update, to be sure; but here are a few more highlights from the overnight trip — taken from Kat’s stash of photos. So to the half a dozen of you who complained about how I didn’t appear in any of the pictures (Bishop, you were first) … fine. Here you go.

I appear in a few of these.
Textual rundown of events to come. Later.

[Edit: And now by popular request, all the shots — mine and Kat’s combined — can be found in one tidy set right here.]

I am so tired, but there’s work to be done so I can’t fiddle around on the internets. BUT. I did get all my pictures uploaded from the Mark and Mario Author Plague Spectacular;* and I think this shot nicely captures the spirit of the event:

Anyway. Tune in later for the sordid story of the Road Trip of the Undead Cheerleaders.** I’ll try to get around to making a proper update tomorrow afternoon, but it might have to wait a bit. Deadlines loom. You know how it goes.

I’ll jot it up soon, I promise.

Because March is a month of madness, tomorrow morning I’ll be dashing off to Portland with Team Seattle. This is because our fine associates Mark Henry and Mario Acevedo will be signing at the Beaverton Powell’s location at 7:00 p.m., and we intend to wave our pom-poms in support.

So if you want to catch me and the crew down at the big-ass bookstore, then come on down. Now you know how to find us.

In other news, I’m back on the composition pony and my word count has resumed. I’m absolutely delighted to get back to The Boneshaker; though while I was in the process of reacquainting myself with the story, I trimmed about fifteen hundred words out of it. At present, I’m back up to just barely over where the word count was when I left it.

Project: The Boneshaker (hurrah, it’s back!)
New Words: About two thousand, but it’s tough to gauge
Present Total Word Count: 46,746 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Got myself re-immersed in the storyline and advanced it into greater peril. Briar Wilkes is trapped in a subterranean tavern while rotters (read: zombies) try to bust their way in from two directions at once. Big action scene ensues, wherein Briar receives back-up support from tricked-out mercenary Jeremiah Swakhammer and his friend Lucy O’Gunning, the one-armed barkeep with a mechanical hand.

Darling du Jour: “Swakhammer pulled a pair of gigantic pistols out of his holsters and spun the cylinders to make sure they were loaded. Lucy reached under the bar and retrieved a modified crossbow. She flipped a latch and the contraption opened; she placed it upside down on the counter and slammed her mechanical arm upon it, and the weapon affixed itself to her wrist with a hard click. Even white-haired Varney with his fragile-looking limbs was bracing himself for trouble. He lifted up the piano’s lid and retrieved a pair of shotguns, which he held ready — one under each armpit.”

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Unpacked and settled self from Norwescon; changed Howard’s tank; did dishes; cleaned house (except for vacuuming); re-read last thirty pages of Boneshaker in order to prime self for further work; emailed invoice for freelance work; contacted more interviewable parties about upcoming freelance assignment.

Reason for Stopping: Good stopping point (on the cusp of escape) — and before long, Aric will be home from work, so I suppose we’ll go get supper or something. Also, I need to start getting my act together for tomorrow’s little road trip. We’ll only be gone overnight, so this won’t be a huge excursion with massive packing needs; but I do need to be concise, as I only intend to bring one backpack.

I very likely will not get any fiction written tomorrow or Wednesday; but I will use that time on the road to sketch out the P.O.V. for Ezekiel Wilkes, who will join the narrative from his own vantage point before terribly long. Zeke is Briar’s runaway son, and he’s in far more trouble than he thinks he is. Hell, he’s even in more trouble than his mother thinks he is, and she’s very, very good at imagining the worst.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 115,346*

It’s been real, and it’s been fun — but now I’m home, and so far behind on everything from internet friends lists to freelance work that it’s all I can do to pet the kitty, feed the fish, and unpack. Of course, none of this will prevent me from composing this quickie wrap-up.

This convention I mostly ran with the usual crowd, Kat Richardson, Richelle Mead, Mark Henry — as well as Bonus! Caitlin Kittredge, who has been out of town for the last few months (and we’re all quite happy she’s home). But I also got to catch up with Jennifer Brozek, who I hadn’t seen in awhile; and Jeremy Lassen, who was present for the Phillip K. Dick awards.

I was also lucky enough to meet a few new folks too. I finally got to pal around with The Man With All The Best Titles, Mario Acevedo; and I’ve known the lovely and talented Lisa Mantchev online for some time now, but Norwescon gave me the opportunity to squee over her wardrobe in person. Likewise, I’ve exchanged an email or two with the mighty Pat Rothfuss, but there’s nothing quite like crashing a hotel bar with him for a few hours. I swear, if you ever get a chance to hear this man talk, for heaven’s sake do it. He’s one of the most innately entertaining people I’ve ever met.

Anyway, if you’re interested, you can find a few photo highlights over at my Flickr page — including, but not limited to, our roommate Kat L. and her magnificent cleavage, Jay Lake menacing Ken Scholes, and John Picacio restraining Mario for an ass-whooping.

And … those are all the names I’ve got time to link right now, and I do hope I linked everyone correctly. Unpacking and backed-up freelancery await, and I need to change Howard’s tank like whoa; so I’m going to log off and get started. Have a great what’s-left-of-the-weekend, folks. I’ll try to be back with your regularly scheduled kitty pictures and whatnot tomorrow.

Okay folks, I’m out of here for the long weekend — as soon as Aric gets home, we’re off to grab a quick bite of supper and then he’s ditching me at the convention.* I won’t be home until Sunday afternoon, and I haven’t yet decided whether or not I’m going to bring my laptop with me; so there’s no telling whether or not I’ll cook up any updates between now and then.

I’m packed, I’m sorted, and I’m ready to bluff my way through some panels, hurrah. But for now, I’m going to run downstairs and spend a little friendly snuggle time with Ellen’s cats before I’m out the door.

Once again, for reference’s sake, here’s my convention schedule. Swing by and say ‘hello,’ and watch me pretend I know what I’m talking about.

See you guys on the flip side …

[Edit: Since the emails have begun already, yes, I swapped out the artwork on my main webpage (where the convention schedule is posted). I stumbled across that cute old illustration and it seemed peculiarly appropriate, given the title of my next project. If you can figure out why, you get a digital cookie.**]

I’m not sure how to ramp up to this, so I suppose I’ll just spit it out — following much consultation, investigation, and anticipation, there’s going to be a swap-out in my Tor contract. My next novel after Fathom will not be the vampire noir piece Awake Into Darkness; instead, we’re going to substitute that project for a steampunk piece, tentatively titled The Boneshaker.

Points of Interest/Anticipated Questions:

* Yes, this is the same steampunk piece I was working on earlier this year.

* This isn’t a new contract or a new sale. It’s simply a substitution. The only change it represents for this webpage is that — for the next few months — the writing metrics I post will pertain to The Boneshaker instead of Awake Into Darkness.

* Awake Into Darkness isn’t going away. I’m intensely happy with its progress and, although it is going onto the back burner for now, I have every intention of finishing it and (Lord willing and the creek don’t rise) handing it over to Tor next year.

* The decision is a matter of market timing, and not any personal freak-out over the quality of the aforementioned vampire novel which, for the record, rocks quite a lot.

Let it be known far and wide, I’m tickled pink about getting back to The Boneshaker — which I’ve been obsessing over for quite some time. It’s easily my most ambitious project to date and I’m alternately scared to death of it and so damn proud of what I’ve got so far that I want to shove it up under the nose of anyone who shows a modicum of interest.

Since the end of my Week O’Hiatus I’ve been combing back through the existing content and bringing myself back up to speed on the project, which I set aside a month ago. I didn’t dive back into the writing game because things hadn’t been finalized yet and I didn’t know which project to tackle; so this means that yes, I’ve sort of blown my New Year’s Resolution, but I’ve decided that I really don’t care. Henceforth, I’m going to try to stick to it anyway, and if real life gets in the way once in awhile, I’m not going to kick myself for it.

Today, I have freelance projects which must be attended to; I have a jaunt to the bank that needs to happen, and a dash to the grocery store that’s long overdue. This evening I’ll be participating in a book signing, and beginning tomorrow afternoon, my ass belongs to Norwescon. Ergo, I do not know if this ass will get a chance to plop down in front of a computer for any work-time until next week.

Yes, well. Such is life. And such is the business end of writing, that it sometimes interferes most mightily with the writing itself.

So. With all this in mind, I really need to log off and get cracking. In a few hours I’ll need to tart myself up for this signing — which will also feature Mario Acevedo, Warren Hammond, Richelle Mead, Naomi Novik, John Picacio, Patrick Rothfuss, and Bruce Taylor. You can find us all huddled together tonight, at 7:00 p.m., at the University District bookstore, pens in hand and eyelashes batting like palm fronds as we try to convince you to buy our books.

So come on out and say “hello!”

[Edit: And speaking of Norwescon, I’ll post my schedule under the link below — for those of you who are attending and/or unaccountably curious.]

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Wednesday, March 19 at 7:00 p.m.
Norwescon Signing
Discussion & Book Signing: U-District store, Seattle

Several Norwescon notables will sit down to sign some books and talk to some fans here among our nationally respected science fiction collection. Authors include Mario Acevedo, Warren Hammond, Richelle Mead, Naomi Novik, John Picacio, Cherie Priest, Patrick Rothfuss, and Bruce Taylor.


[No — I have no earthly idea how I landed in the middle of this list … but I’m thrilled silly about it!]

I’ve got to be upfront with you: I loved this movie. I loved it — every frame — I and was sad when it ended because that meant that there would be no more explosions or lingering ass-shots of my new girl-crush, Rhona Mitra.* Yes, it’s flawed. Yes, it’s dorky. Yes, it’s Neil Marshall and Everything But the Kitchen Sink. No, it doesn’t make sense from start to finish. Yeah, it’s gruesome and cheesy and, as my husband put it, it’s like watching Genre Movie Bingo.

The only thing it’s missing is a rocket ship, and for a few minutes there, I very seriously believed that a rocket ship’s appearance was imminent. So okay. That’s half a strike against it.

But in lieu of rocket ships, it’s got humanity-eating plagues, tribes of cannibal punks, medieval-style fiefs with knights and torture chambers, rubber-wrapped gimps, futuristic soldiers with wacky hardware, cyborg eyeballs, embittered but noble old cops, corrupt and power-mad politicians, tanks, humorous decapitations, and Malcolm McDowell dressed like Henry the Eighth.

I. Loved. This. Movie. And it’s so deliberately, aggressively trashy that I suspect I’m going to be about 90% alone in this blind adoration, but there you go. I want to watch this movie again, and I want to watch more movies like it. I want to see more movies with Rhona Mitra in them, and I want her to wear very tight black clothes in every single one of them. I want Marshall to make a sequel to this one, and I want him to do everything just like he did in this one except I want a goddamned rocket ship next time, and then I will personally whittle him an Oscar for Best Director Who Ever Directed Anything, and I will lick it up and down, and then I will leave it on his doorstep, ring the bell, and run away with a big fat smile on my face.

RAR.
That is all.

* Last night I dropped my sister off at the airport, and I am forced to assume she is now on the other end of the continent, sleeping like crazy. [Edit: Assumption = confirmed.] It was nice to have her here, and a very good time was had — and much money was spent, as the hunting-and-gathering instinct is strong with us. In my defense, I’d been waiting for her visit because I intended to use it as an excuse to replace all the stuff that our carnivorous closet ate in January, so it’s not like I ran out and bought myself diamonds or anything. I replaced some mold-destroyed summer clothes, mostly.

* Also I bought a bunch of books which I won’t have time to read for ages. Likewise, I purchased a new bra for the first time since I left Tennessee two years ago. Actually, I purchased three bras — but only because the store was having a sale. Now I’m set for nipple holsters through 2012.

* So now, for the first time in over a week, Aric and I have the place to ourselves. It was great to have all the out-of-towners, but it was also mighty exhausting. Tonight, we’re going to go see a movie and just have some “us” time. Since this will be “us” time, and not “People With Really Great Taste or High Standards” time, we’ll probably catch Doomsday.

* Terry Pratchett is my favorite author. Period. Hands down. I think he’s the storyteller of our time, he’s brilliant and wonderful, I’ve read everything he’s ever written, and if you’ve never read his books, then what are you doing sitting here, surfing the ‘net? Pratchett has the keenest mind I’ve ever encountered, and I admire him with a fannish love that knows no limits. And, as some of you know, he was recently diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. It would be no exaggeration to say that I felt utterly crushed to hear this. However, I was encouraged and pleased to see a great effort spring up in his honor, and I would urge everyone with an interest in Alzheimer’s research, fine authors, or superbly intelligent genre fiction to go poke around and throw a few pence in the pot.

* In other news, my civic-minded little brother is at it again — trying to save the world one trip at a time. This time, he’s planning a jaunt to Uganda, where he’ll be working with Legacy for African Children International (LACI) to assist with AIDS awareness and education. Naturally, this excursion won’t come cheap; he needs to raise about $3200 to participate this summer, and thus he has established this fine website to explain himself, illuminate the situation, and hopefully raise a few bucks in order to send himself to Africa. Please go check out his page and, at the risk of bringing two links that beg for money into one blog entry, consider helping him along.

* I might have a novel-in-progress announcement or two sometime in the next couple of days, but for now, I’m going to lay off the composition metrics in favor of, oh, I don’t know — probably kitty pictures or something. And now, I have much, much catch-up work to do. Freelance project looms, Norwescon looms this coming weekend, a signing at the University District Bookstore looms on the 19th, laundry looms, and my apartment needs a good scrub-down. So I’m going to log off and get cracking. Have a great Monday, everyone.

I’m taking my sister off to the airport in another hour or two, and she shall return to her distant homeland of Connecticut — at which point I’ll once again begin regular bloggery. In the meantime, please to be enjoying this snapshot of dubious hilarity.

I’ll be takin’ my sister out to The Mercury.
You locals feel free to come up and say “hello,” eh?

Hey, lookit what’s available oh … right this very moment! Click the image below to (a). go visit the ordering page, (b). see what it contains, and (c). pick up a copy. It’s a special double issue folks — and among the exceedingly groovy text that lurks between its finely illustrated pages, you’ll find a short story by yours truly called “The Heavy.”

This is the story that spawned part of a book I was working on a month or two ago — my “giant Tennesseean plus were-coyote from Tijuana vs. banshee country-music-star-wannabe novel.” I still might try to turn it into a book or even a series one day, but it’s been put on the back burner for the time being. Even so, I love this particular short story; it remains one of my personal favorites I’ve ever written.

So please, go pick up the magazine and support a very fine independent operation. It’s just seven bucks for nearly 200 pages worth of fiction and nonfiction! You can’t beat it with a stick!*

Edit and/or sudden topic shift: Yeah, yeah. I saw this pretty much first thing this morning, because about fifteen people emailed it to me and asked for a reaction. Okay. My reaction is, “So what?” Blog if it works for you. Don’t blog if it eats your life. The end. No offense taken, and no further opinion required.

Okay. Family visit. The overview version is this: it was wonderful to have them, and I hope they come back again sometime when the weather’s nicer. Anyway, the highlights version of their visit is below — now with pictures.

I’ll begin here, with the Goth Anniversary of the Battle for Iwo Jima, coming soon to the Museum of Flight out at Boeing Field. Yeah, yeah, I know what it really says. But when I saw it at a distance, I was mighty confused.

For more nonsense and cuteness, click the link below.
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Dad, stepmom, and brother just left. They’ll be jetting home super-early in the a.m., and then, a few hours later, I will go pick my sister up from the airport — because it’s just that kind of week. I can has visitors now, yay!

To see a few choice images from the family time thus far, click here. There, you will find pictures from the Museum of Flight, as well as shots from the Pike Place Market, the Science Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame, the monorail, and other local touristy-type areas. Gasp at the Dad In Space! Thrill to see the original Starbucks in situ! Point and laugh at the cheeky old advertisements!

And the week’s not over yet …

More shots from the still-ongoing family visit right here.

Oh man oh man oh man it’s been a busy couple of days. I’ve scarcely gotten any daily writing done at all, though the Resolution remains secure … but here’s the part where I admit that I’m going to give that Resolution some squeaking room.

Tomorrow night I have family flying into town, and between that and a new freelance assignment, I feel like the best thing I can do for my (a). sanity and (b). output quality is not to force the matter further — but only for the next week. I’m not taking a vacation, exactly; but my forced march has been underway since January 1st, and although I intend to keep the writing a priority, it would be silly for me to insist that it is my only priority.

Besides, a couple of my fiction products might actually be in flux right now* and it’s worth my time to take a few days to let those overworked creative muscles rest. They deserve a little time to recuperate; and also, since both of my next two full-length projects are set in downtown Seattle, it will be worth my time to play tourist and re-familiarize myself with the area. Cripes — I’ve hardly left the house since before Christmas … and that’s not good.**

Anyway, the short version is this: Next week, I’m “off.” The forced march is on temporary hiatus, though if the fancy strikes me I’ll sit down and write, of course. These are the last writing stats you’ll see from me until (not this coming Monday but) next Monday, at the soonest. Because it’s my Resolution, and I can tweak it if I want to, that’s why.

Project: Awake Into Darkness (redux)
New Year’s Resolution Status: Safe.
New Words: 2070
Present Total Word Count: 29,254 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Figured out that there are no friends, only foes; successfully avoided ass-whooping and did, in fact, open can of whoop-ass the size of a small dog; went back to the dirty, safe places and eschewed the super-shiny condominium; have hatched new plan to maybe attract a little assistance.

Darling du Jour: “Paul might be a sadist at heart, but Bones didn’t know. Hearts were funny things, and he’d never gotten the hang of them.”

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Whoo, boy. Let’s see: exchanged many emails with important people; went to the bank to deposit a check (hurrah!); went to store for milk; finished up an interview (which has since been posted over here at Planet of the Books); negotiated with manufacturers for information re: freelance gig; finally cleaned my disgusting dirty floors, for all the good it did; thanked heaven for my “handler” at Penguicon, who discovered schedule discrepancies; fielded several phone calls; tried to sort out payment issues with freelance client; read a book and composed rough draft of its review; did dishes.

Reason for Stopping: I need to send off another few emails re: that freelance project, and I’d very much love to make myself a snack and/or freshen up before Aric comes home and I drag him off to a movie or something. I desperately want to get out of the apartment; my cabin fever overfloweth.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 115,108

Thanks, everyone — for the input re: Howard the Fish. Every time I peer into his tank he scowls at me like I’ve just poached his next of kin, but he’s looking good and the tank is sparkling fresh. I have resolved to no longer worry about it for now.

In other news, I might be a little scarce for a bit on either side of this upcoming week; in addition to my editorial project duties and another book review in the queue, I’ve taken on a freelance gig and once again, I’m working on multiple deadlines. That’s fine — even ideal — but it means less fiction productivity all around.

Today I set up the new freelance gig and wrote a few hundred words on Awake Into Darkness, but not enough to report with any sense of thrill. I also did fat stacks of laundry, scoured the hell out of my filthy bathroom, went to the bank, went to the pet store for more gravel/plants for Howard, cleaned Howard’s tank yet again, and went to Trader Joe’s — where I restocked our booze assortment by using a highly sophisticated method of wine-selection.*

I also nabbed some freeze-dried fruit because I’ve heard a lot about it, and I’ve been curious to give it a nibble. For my first foray into this dehydrated snack food, I selected pineapple and mangosteen.

I picked the pineapple because … well … I like pineapple. I picked the mangosteen because Justine is always talking it up like crazy, and I was curious. In case you’re unfamiliar with it, the fruit in question is described pretty thoroughly over here. Yes, it looks weird. Peculiarly suggestive, if you ask me.

It smells a little weird too, sort of like a pear that’s been stored in a dirty sock; but it tastes all right. If I had to describe it, I’d say that it’s a flavor amalgam of oh, say, grapes, peaches, and something a little tart — maybe limes. Of course, there’s an excellent chance that the fresh fruit tastes precious little like the astronaut version; but the crunchy pineapple is comparable to its original juicy yumminess so I’ll just assume that there is, at least some flavor correlation.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for this evening. I’m really tired; I feel like I’ve been running myself ragged today, though I don’t have much to show for it except a drawer full of clean clothes and a pissed-off fish. Ah, well. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get my act together and do something fascinating.

Here’s a question for you fishy folks out there. First of all — by way of disclaimer — Howard the Betta is doing just fine, and as far as I can tell, he’s as healthy as a wee, wet horse. However, I’m a little weirded out by his tank conditions as of late.

It’s like this: I just changed his bowl the day before yesterday. As the fresh water settled and became more clear I noticed something odd swirling around in it. At first, I went nuts trying to figure out if I was seeing debris or if I was looking at living creatures. But this morning it was pretty obvious that whatever was going on in there, it was multiplying … and definitely moving of its own accord. There were so many things swimming in there that the water looked cloudy with them.

The critters in question were absolutely minuscule, and transparent. They looked like hair trimmings, or maybe plant fibers; someone somewhere suggested “worms,” and that might be accurate, I guess. Whatever they were, Howard didn’t seem to care about them. He was eating his fish-kibble just fine, swimming like a champ, and already rebuilding his cruelly destroyed nest. But with almost every hour the water clarity was deteriorating, and it skeeved me out.

So I again uprooted him about an hour ago — this time being super-careful to get rid of ALL the water in his tank. I even bought new gravel and plants*, and when I extricated him from the water I used the Dreaded Net of Doom and put him in a fresh plastic tub (instead of his preferred Ziplock-baggie method), to make sure he brought as little of his old water with him as possible.

Now he’s freshly ensconced in a spanky clean tank which has been wholly emptied and scoured with scalding hot water before being returned to his favorite temperature. The water has been treated with the anti-chlorine drops and I’ve added a little extra aquarium salt for his comfort. He’s swimming around, checking out the new sites, and generally acting like all’s right with the world again; but I’m worried about those tiny translucent wormies.

Can anyone make any suggestions or offer any thoughts?
Edit: This looks plausible. Thanks!