Cherie Priest

As many of you are aware, Tor.com is alive, well, and on the verge of launching into something great. Oh sure, my fine, upstanding publisher has a formal cataloging site over here — and it’s full of many grand things. But the three-letter alternate URL upon which they’ve been sitting for ages will soon blossom into …

“A science fiction and fantasy site not quite like any you’ve seen before, mixing news, commentary, original stories and art, your own comments and conversations, and more. A place on the net you may find yourself wanting to visit—and participate in—every day.”

Sounds good, right? Here’s something better: if you sign up for the mailing list, they’ll send you free digital books. And even better still? This coming Friday, if you answer the call*, you’ll receive a digital copy of Four and Twenty Blackbirds, totally free.

Free free free.
Not a penny, not a dime.
Just thirty seconds of your time.

And the site doesn’t do anything horrible with your email address — I can vouch for that. I signed up weeks ago, myself, and I’ve received nothing more heinous than really groovy wallpapers and free books written by other people. So. If you’ve ever wanted to read one of my books without going all the way and dropping coin for it, this is your chance.

Go here. Enter email address. Sit back and wait for free book.

As a disclaimer, I did not review any of the following titles for Publishers Weekly. These are the things I’ve grabbed in my spare time, what laughably little of it there is.

The Ghost Map, Steven Johnson. Written by the same gentleman who brought us Everything Bad is Good for You (which is also a good read), Ghost Map is a grisly story told with an odd sort of panache. Not for the faint of stomach, this is the tale of an 1854 cholera outbreak in London — and a couple of guys whose excruciatingly logical methodology gave the world a new way of looking at contagious diseases. Interesting and smoothly shared.

Fangland, John Marks. One of the finer updates of Dracula that I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading. Fangland deconstructs and reassembles the myth of the Count, shuffling the archetypes and playing tricks with the old tropes. Occasionally a smidge postmodern and hip, Fangland starts out slow … but so did Stoker, so I was prepared to hang on for the ride — and I’m very glad I did.

The Stuff of Thought, Steven Pinker. I’m a big fan of Pinker in general; his Language Instinct was my first foray into pop linguistics, and it remains a personal favorite. But unlike The Blank Slate or How the Mind Works, Stuff turns into something of a slog — and I say that as a someone with a deep-seated love for this sort of theory. It begins intriguingly enough, but bogs down midway — becoming masturbatory geek cud that’s too tough for me to comfortably chew.

Stumbling on Happiness, Daniel Gilbert. As mentioned above, pop theory charms me — and Gilbert has a charming style that’s easy to read. But Stumbling is Exhibit A for how the plural of “anecdote” is not “data.” By the middle of the book I had become intensely ornery about his formula of, “In the event of X, most people do Y” … because about half the time, I would’ve behaved quite differently in his hypothetical scenarios. Lots of cheerful speculation, not a lot of science.

The Dead Beat, Marilyn Johnson. Visit the world of obituary writers and aficionados with this strangely chipper read that’s downright adorable more often than not. I like Johnson’s fondness for synchronicity and her tender treatment of sensitive subjects; but the most interesting bits are the obituaries themselves, which condense into a paragraph the lives of fascinating, beloved, reviled, and dearly missed personalities.

Tales Behind the Tombstones, Chris Enss. Across the American West, strange tombstones with remarkable stories abound. Here’s a collection of them, as well as the available background information of the personalities interred beneath them. Not altogether different from The Dead Beat, but with older subject matter and a gritty sensibility that’s only occasionally chipper. Fascinating, nonetheless.

The Somnabulist, Jonathan Barnes. The speculative fiction community has embraced this quasi-steampunk pseudo-mystery like a long-lost child, so my hopes were high. And I confess, the first 100 pages are downright sublime. However, after those first hundred pages the tone, quality, and caliber of the story take a nosedive off a cliff. It’s as if someone exquisitely talented wrote the first three chapters and then died … leaving a lesser cousin to finish the manuscript. The most interesting questions are never answered; and the concluding absurdities stack up so high that the story makes a jailbreak over genre walls, landing on the other side in an embarrassing tangle of nonsense.

Next in the Queue:

Night Life, by Caitlin Kittredge
The Alchemy of Stone, by Ekaterina Sedia
The Adventures of Langdon St. Ives, by James P. Blaylock

BOOYAH. Behold, I give you … Spain the Cat approving of an ARC. But it’s not just any ARC — oh no. This is the much-anticipated ARC of my upcoming Subterranean Press project, Those Who Went Remain There Still.

I’m so excited! These floppy advanced copies look so good — I can’t wait to see the real thing! But alas, I will not get a peek at the real thing until the middle of this coming winter.

Le sigh.

But anyway, here’s 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: 3734 (pretty good)
Present Total Word Count: 107,954 words
Goal: 130,000 words by July 1st.





Things Accomplished in Fiction: I’m afraid that, no matter how surreal I get about it, this section has become too revealing. Therefore, I must henceforth discontinue it.

Observations: My Lode Bearing Boss isn’t getting enough face time. That’s going to get fixed in Zeke’s next section or two, but I’m not quite there yet. Hmm. There’s SO MUCH to wrap up in this story — I feel like it’s overflowing at the seams. I guess the only thing to do is start drawing up plans for a sequel.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Completed Draft Zero of one freelance assignment and instigated research for a second assignment; corrected an invoice I botched; cleaned house in the wake of Aric’s new computer desk and its dust-bunny-stirring assembly; did dishes; changed litterbox.

Reason for Stopping: The ARCs arrived, and I was too giddy to continue. Anyway, it’s time for me to work in some reading time — so that I can begin on freelance assignment #3. Yes, these things do sort of stack up while you’re not looking.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 176,529

Here’s 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: 2670 (meh, but I’ve been otherwise preoccupied today)
Present Total Word Count: 104,220 words
Goal: 130,000 words by July 1st.





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Up up and away; hey, is this your first day in this bird? because you guys don’t seem to know what you’re doing; drive it like you stole it, mofos; do NOT throw up inside a gas mask — I mean seriously, don’t do it.

Other Observations: I think Zeke is going to end up with 5 segments, not four (as planned). You could reasonably argue that maybe I ought to just break this into two books, but no, that will not be necessary. This is still Briar’s book with Zeke’s seasoning, though Zeke now has about 22,000 words of seasoning to contribute at this point.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Cleaned up and submitted 2 reviews; submitted invoice; chatted at different editor about different payment issues; took another small freelance gig; took another review assignment; fielded several phone calls from several friends.

Reason for Stopping: I want to get one of the freelance assignments underway this afternoon, so I’m going to start surfing and taking notes for it. Also, am getting hungry. I think perhaps a grilled cheese sandwich (stuffed with American and provolone and maybe a tomato slice or two) with a side order of ketchup is in my immediate future.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 172,795

And now, just because it amuses me to do so, I invite you to click the link below for a few pictures taken over the last few days. Give it a tap to see Aric noodling with the coffee roasting machine of doom, me in my new top hat, and Spain the cat emitting a ferocious yawn. [Click the thumbnails to embiggen.]

(more…)

Ah, productive days. Already on this fine Saturday I’ve finished reading the second of two books I need to review by Tuesday, gotten lunch with the husband, and trotted over to Fremont Coffee where I am presently sitting in a window — waiting for the aforementioned husband to finish noodling with the coffee roasting equipment in this store’s basement. And oh yes. Did I mention? I also broke 100,000 words on The Boneshaker.

Ordinarily I’m pleased with myself if I manage 500 words per day over the weekends; but now that I’m in what could tentatively be described as the home stretch, things just come so much faster … even when I’m hypothetically taking a breather.

Here’s 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: 2055
Present Total Word Count: 101,550 words
Goal: 130,000 words by July 1st.





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Learned much from an elderly cross-dressing Native American princess who can’t read minds, but who reads people quite well; arranged for passage out of the city; climbed like, 20 flights of stairs in the dark.

Other Observations: I still think I’ve got maybe 25,000-30,000 words to go, give or take. I don’t know. There’s much to wrap up, some of it on Zeke’s end and some of it on Briar’s end. I don’t want Draft Zero of this to be too overwhelmingly huge (for my own sanity’s sake, and the sake of my poor editor), but I want it to include all the important bits, of course. I do tend to overwrite, but this is starting to feel like the draft that never ends. It just goes on and on my friends. Somebody started writing it and didn’t know what it was, and now we’ll keep on writing it forever just because it is the draft that never ends. It just goes on and on my friends…

Things Accomplished in Real Life: See first paragraph.

Reason for Stopping: I’m getting restless here in the coffeeshop. Perhaps I’ll wander downstairs and see what the husband is doing. Maybe it’s interesting. Later on today, I think I’m going to wander over to the Lake View Cemetery* and poke around, since it’s so pretty outside and everything.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 170,125

And now, just because there are people out there who are actually curious about this sort of thing — I thought it might be fun, or at least idly informative, to post my “Boneshaker Mix.” This isn’t strictly what I work to, but when I feel like I’m getting off-track or “out of the mood” for writing, these are the songs that remind me what I’m trying to do.

Boneshaker Mix:

“I’m So Sick” (T-virus remix feat. Legion of Doom) — Flyleaf
“Momma Sed” — Puscifer
“This is Not America” — David Bowie
“Beware” — The Afghan Whigs
“Help Me I Am In Hell” — NIN
“The Lords of Salem” — Rob Zombie
“Falling Up” (Egypt remix) — Collide
“Spiders Bride” — The Machine in the Garden
“Haunted” — Gary Numan
“Long Walk” — I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness
“Army of Me” — Bjork
“Severance” (Live from Gotham) — Bauhaus
“Rain” — The Cult
“Man Next Door” — Massive Attack
“History Repeats Itself” — AOS
“This Corrosion” — Sisters of Mercy
“Gimme Shelter” — Sisters of Mercy
“Probably Will” — Concrete Blonde
“Swing the Heartache” — Bauhaus
“Optimissed” — Skinny Puppy
“Here” — Vast
“Deep” (Christ Analogue remix) — Collide
“Good Things” — Edera

Forbidden Kingdom is the most majestically stupid thing I’ve seen since Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. The universe is truly a dumber place for this movie having occurred.

So lately you’ve seen me talking about my short story “The Heavy.” I’ve never made any secret of the fact that the eponymous protagonist is based on an old buddy of mine, a guy I know back in Tennessee; and though I don’t ordinarily run around caricaturing my friends for the printed page, I made an exception in this case.

My reasons were twofold: (1). he’s one hell of a character — much larger than life, and a million times nicer, and (2). he’s been begging me to do it for ten years.

But I say all that to say this — the very same gentleman who inspired one of the post popular characters I’ve ever written … is participating in a very good thing, The Official 24 Hour Cycling Event of the Lance Armstrong Foundation. [Editor’s note: Why this event is called, “24 Hours of Booty” is a mystery to me and him both. Please don’t judge the event based on its questionable marketing department.]

To make a long story short, Travis and his 11-year-old daughter, Katie, are part of a team called Southern Fried Cyclin’ — which will be riding in Asheville, North Carolina, to raise money for cancer research. This event is a 24 hour bike ride with approximately twelve thousand participants. Southern Fried Cyclin’ will ride relay-style (each rider will ride for two hours, rest for four), so that at all times during the 24 hours the team will be represented on the track.*

Here’s a portion of the email Travis passed along this afternoon:

“The organizers of the event require a minimum of $150 in donations per rider, meaning that Katie and I will need to raise a combined $300. It is my sincere hope that Katie and I can not only meet, but vastly exceed this mark.

In addition to the obvious importance of funding cancer research, I am personally overwhelmed by the fact that my daughter, at eleven years old, is mature enough to see the importance of taking something that she loves (cycling) and using it to benefit others as a part of something much greater than mere personal enjoyment. For these two reasons I hope that our fundraising efforts are a smashing success! For more information or to pledge your support for our ride, please visit the following links:

Katie Kilgore’s Sponsorship Page
Travis Kilgore’s Sponsorship Page

Please check the fundraising totals on each site, then (if you are willing and able to do so), pledge your support to whoever has the lowest amount raised so far. As Katie and I are riding together as a team, I’d like the funds raised to be as close to equal as possible. (Although I realize full well that Katie is vastly cuter than myself, and will probably raise more money for that reason alone, ha ha ha.) If I understand correctly, donations can be made online by credit/debit card, or by printing out a form and mailing in a check.

[Editor’s note, redux: All donations are tax-deductible, with a confirmation form with all the necessary tax information provided once the transaction is completed.]

This is not a mileage-based event, as were the old “Ride-a-Thons”, so please don’t be concerned that we might ride 1800 miles, ha ha. Any support that you are willing and able to offer will be greatly appreciated. Thank you, and God’s Blessings, Travis, on behalf of Katie and myself.”

Let me be quite clear — Travis is one of the finer human beings that I personally have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He’s one hell of a guy and a real hero, whether or not he appears in fictional form, and I’d really love to see him make his goal and then some.

So if you’re interested in a marvelous charity/exceptional tax deduction, please consider clicking around on Travis and Katie’s sponsorship pages and throwing a few pence in the pot and/or linking this entry around.

Thanks for your time, and thanks for reading, folks.

New 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: 6478 — but that’s for 2 days.
Present Total Word Count: 99,495 words
Goal: 130,000 words by July 1st.





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Continued Zeke’s adventures under the city; revised Seattle history in a mockable way; possibly ditched the guide of dubious intent; somehow managed to leave frying pan and land in fire, where there are zombies.

Other Observations: Zeke’s side adventures are up over 16,000 words now, and I expect his running POV to wind up around 20,000-23,000 words. But that’s just a guess. I’m trying to break it into four segments of about 6000 words each, which will be strategically interlaced with his mother’s narrative. I hope it’s enough. I hope it’s not too much. I’m winging it, here.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Cleaned house almost entirely — including dishes, bathroom, vacuuming, etc.; played tag with cat; washed hair and contemplated a new color for it.

Reason for Stopping: (1). I need to clean Howard the Fish’s tank, and (2). I have reading to do. I owe PW a pair of reviews on the 29th, and I’m not finished with either book yet. I’m going to try to read the whole of the larger one this afternoon before Aric comes home; and I’ll read the smaller one tomorrow.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 168,070

So Spain the Cat and I have this little game we play — and it’s essentially just “Tag, With Cat.” The rules are simple. I must (a). appear out of nowhere, or at least from around the corner in the kitchen, (b). make gentle threats in baby-talk [i.e., “I’m gonna getcha getcha getcha!”], and (c). I must not stop chasing her and/or chattering at her until she’s fully underneath the bed.

If I fail to accomplish (c) then she sits down and glowers at me accusingly — as if I’ve somehow failed her, and therefore ruined her fun. You can actually see, in this 20-second video, how she briefly pauses on the far side of the bed and double-checks to make sure I’m still following her.

Anyway, here’s a “successful” cat-tag event, from the cat’s standpoint.*

I want to take a moment to compose a few words about Teatro ZinZanni Seattle. I’d seen the oddly shaped building before, over near the Space Needle; and I’d heard this show/ meal/ event recommended — yet rarely described. In fact, the most common description of Teatro is “indescribable.” And I like a challenge, so here you go.

Teatro ZinZanni is a tiny quasi-steampunk Cirque du Soleil with a side order of Gallagher. And there’s food.

Last night Elaine and I caught the present entertainment installment, the “Suitcase Named Desire” routine. More of a running theme than a story, SND is the pseudo-saga of a magician and his puppet, a fairy queen and her maestro, a chef and his insecurities, a cat-girl and her hunt for happiness, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

To make a long assessment short, it’s charmingly weird for the sake of being charmingly weird. Or to put it another way, it’s not very deep but it’s very, very pretty.

The first hour is probably the weakest, for all that it’s a suitable introduction populated with gifted singers. But once the train arrives, swirls through the room, and delivers the cadaverous magician and his entourage, things pick up significantly. By and large — at the risk of coming off like a cultural Philistine — SND is strongest when no one is talking or singing. The comedy routines are fair to middling but they take up a lot of time and they don’t really stand out; but when the acrobats/ dancers/ silent performers (including the magician himself) are on stage, SND is absolutely riveting.

I’ll be honest. I was sort of expecting a second-tier local-folks dinner theater. And I was totally, wholly, thoroughly incorrect. By the end of the night, I was no longer cringing over the fact that this event works out to be about $150 a plate.* I’m a firm believer in paying talented creative professionals what they’re worth, and if these performers are getting paid generously for their services — then call me a happy camper. Because they are extremely good.

Anyway. Outside the main theater arena there’s a small boutique filled with OMG TEH SHINY THANGS and I did not escape it unscathed. I found a very nice wool felt top hat that fits me like a crown and looks completely smashing … and if you think I won’t wear it out and around just for the sake of wearing a black top hat out and around, then you are sorely mistaken.

The wait staff members were superlative; the other random service professionals (folks with face paint, cashiers, bar staff) were all unfailingly polite and helpful, the small orchestra on-stage had impeccable comic timing, and the food wasn’t half bad either.

All in all, I recommend it most highly. Check the website for details.

This afternoon, I’m going to meet Elaine for a little bit of unexpected frivolity of the most fabulous kind. I mean, I wasn’t expecting to spend the evening at a quasi-burlesque comic cabaret dinner theater, but it was rather difficult to say “no” to such a kind and intriguing invitation.

Besides, I’ve had a most excellent workday thus far, and I don’t mind treating myself a tiny bit. Yes, it’s not nearly stopping time — but I’ve already logged a satisfactory word count, and it’s not filler count, either. Zeke’s parallel adventures continue apace, establishing a better, more rounded view of the world setting and introducing cool new characters left and right.

Ergo, here’s 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: 4300 (GLORIOUS!)
Present Total Word Count: 93,017 words
Goal: 130,000 words by July 1st.





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Introduced the menacing -but -possibly- benevolent elderly Native American princess with a knife collection and a ray gun; witnessed a (very likely) needless murder; began to figure out that anybody who claims the middle name of “Mayhem” might be full of crap.

Other Observations: As you may have noticed above, I’ve reset my goal. There’s simply no way Draft Zero is going to come in under 130,000 words, though the finished product will likely be trimmed down to a more manageable size. Frankly, I suspect that I’m underestimating. I tend to overwrite anyway, and then trim my final product by about 15%. Hmm. We’ll see. I’ve sort of hit that point where my word count implies I ought to be entering the home stretch, but I keep finding more story to tell …

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Did dishes; cleaned bedroom; finished unpacking from PenguiCon; tried and failed to catch up on the emails that accumulated while I was out of town.

Reason for Stopping: Must take shower and tart up for this thing tonight, after getting a little bit of reading/freelance work done.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 161,592

I’ve now received fully a dozen LJ comments and emails from people who attended my reading at Penguicon, and although each and every one has tickled me pink, I’m tired of answering them individually — so here you go.

Because the Friday night reading was hypothetically a reading/discussion that was spread out across three people and merely one slim hour, I only read the first half of a short story of mine that was recently published in Apex Digest — the story about the super-sized Tennessean good-old-boy who hunts monsters. Apparently, this was bad form on my part.

So if you simply MUST KNOW what became of the werebeast-menaced goats in the second half of the story, then by all means allow me to direct your attention to this link right here.

That link will take you to an ordering page at Apex Digest, where you may purchase a copy of the issue containing the whole story. It’s called “The Heavy.”

To be perfectly honest, I’m downright astonished by the response. I wrote this tale as a light, somewhat funny and casual one-off a year or so ago; and since it appeared in print I’ve received far more mail about it than any other short piece I’ve ever written. Hell, when I did the interview with Jim Hall for his show Cult Pop, Jim spent fully a third of our conversation wanting to know if Kilgore Jones (the protagonist) will live on and enjoy further adventures. And I’ll tell you now what I told him for broadcast: the answer is “yes.”

Once I’m finished with The Boneshaker,* I fully intend to return to Kilgore and give him his own book — or at least his own collection of stories. I’ve already got some 25,000-30,000 words written on this project; and even though I was compelled to set it aside a few months ago, I do plan to pick it up again.

I’m back on the writing pony after several days of no composition work (thanks to the convention); and though today’s output wasn’t stellar, it was respectable. So here’s 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: 3014
Present Total Word Count: 88,717 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Finished the first segment of Zeke’s adventures which run parallel to his mother’s; introduced Alistair Mayhem Osterude, who may or may not prove helpful or devious; established the likelihood of imminent peril. Next up: an elderly-but-badass cross-dressing Native American princess with a ray gun attempts to save the day.

Other Observations: I got stuck when I realized that my sketched-out timeline for Zeke was broken and needed revision. I had to throw most of it out and I’m still not certain how to repair the scenario, but I remain confident that it can be done.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Happy Earth Day, everybody! I made myself useful by installing CFL bulbs in our most prominent and oft-used lighting fixtures. I’d been putting it off for ages, but a trip to Ikea last night with Ellen gave me the opportunity to pick up the bulbs I needed. So. Yes. Well. There you go. A smidge of environmental friendliness: achieved. I also sorted out some freelance work and got started reading on a pair of books that have reviews due next week.

Reason for Stopping: I need to step back and untangle my threads before I write myself into a corner. Also, I want to get more reading done for these reviews.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 157,292

But since no one reads this page for the drawn-out convention rehash posts … here’s Spain the Cat pulling the covers up over her face so I can’t take her picture.

Is this cute? Yes. But even I am forced to admit that it is not as cute as that which lies beneath this link. You mark my words.

So. Penguicon. First of all, I’m forced to confess that I took virtually no pictures; and the pictures I did take came out poorly due to low lights and a hurried composition … so I’m not going to bother with them. Instead, I’m going to indulge in a general overview which will surely contain a link-fest of epic proportions.

This having been said, I live in terror of leaving people out; and it’s not an unreasonable fear. My memory isn’t all that great in the first place, and I met lots of unreasonably cool people this weekend. But here goes.

Friday: Oddly enough, the flight went fine and I arrived in Detroit on time. My “handler” for this event turned out to be the sublimely hot Yanni — a woman with a superlative sense of timing and organization, and a knack for hilarity. Frankly, I’m not sure how smoothly I would’ve navigated the weekend without her.

Yanni picked me up from the airport and we reached the hotel just in time to meet Team Subterranean* en masse: Elizabeth Bear, Sarah Monette and her husband, and John Scalzi and his wife. We were joined by a very funny Marine named Dave (whose internet contact info I never did pick up edit: this guy), plus Yanni’s husband Bryan. And I thought we had someone else, too …? Grr. Can’t remember. Anyway, very good Thai food was acquired. Goofing off did occur. Then we returned to the hotel and parted company for panels.

At some point before I wound up in panel limbo, I was lucky enough to catch up with Cat Valente and her partner in the hallway — and they introduced me to the infamous ferret and his lovely wife. I tell you, the entire internet must have crackled a little bit from the sheer blogging energy in that one hotel corridor.

At 9:00 p.m. I did a reading/Q&A with the extraordinary Cat Valente and William Jones. Cat shared an amazing fable vignette that was absolutely gorgeous, and I blushed to follow her; but I was reading a story from a very different planet, and I consoled myself with an apples-to-oranges comparison.

Come 10:00 p.m. I talked Steampunk with (according to my paperwork) Aaron Diaz, David J. Hogan, and Bear. Yet I seem to recall that we were short one person …? I might just be crazy. After all, I’d spent all day on a plane and I was stuffed to the gills with Thai food. But Bear was definitely there, and she is easily one of the finest panel moderators one could possibly ask for. Alas, I did not have any steampunk costumes or jewelry to show off. I only brought one piece of carry-on luggage, and I did not want to explain my ray-gun to a TSA-woman with very cold rubber gloves. Besides, half the fun of steampunk accessorization is that it all looks vaguely like the self-defense apparatus of a Victorian time traveler. I would’ve never made it through the airport.

Later that evening, the entirety of Team Subterranean retired to the Scalzi room, where there was something called “Bumpy Cake.” The cake was in honor of Krissy’s birthday. It tasted like a gourmet ho-ho, which is to say, it was awesome and I’m grateful to have gotten a nibble.

Saturday: First thing in the morning I hauled my sorry little self out of bed and managed to catch breakfast at the hotel restaurant. In addition to the assorted members of Team Subterranean plus spouses, we were joined by Cat and company, and probably a few other folks who wandered in and out over the course of the morning. It was something of a special event for me, personally — because besides all the great usual suspects, I also got to meet one of my publishers for the first time. That’s right, Team Subterranean’s captain was in attendance with his wife, and I was tickled pink!

At 11:00 a.m. I got to be on possibly the grooviest panel ever. Oh, the subject was groovy, sure; but mostly it was the company. That’s right. I was up front with Sarah Monette, Elizabeth Bear, Cat Valente, and Tamora Pierce. I hadn’t yet gotten to meet Tammy, though we’d exchanged an email or two — and I’ve got to tell you, she’s every bit as fun as she sounds online and in-print. And best of all, this turned out to be one of those panels where I didn’t just sit up there and spout things; I learned quite a lot from my fellow table-sitters.

Upon returning to my room, I discovered that I had a masseuse. Oh yes. Subterranean Press knows how to treat a lady. Actually, it knows how to treat a whole string of ladies, as we all got treated to a thorough rub-down, and it was glorious.

At 3:00 p.m. I joined Sarah and Cat again for a discussion of darkness in genre fiction. This was a fun subject upon which to converse, but the panel suffered from a smidge of low turn-out thanks to a mix-up. Even so, I’d like to think we made the best of it. Those two women really know their stuff.

At 4:00 p.m. I had an appointment with Jim Hall from Cult Pop — which was a riot. Jim is a wildly upbeat, charming fellow, and I had a wonderful time sitting for a segment of his local TV show/internet program. Wow, that guy can talk fast. And if you’ve ever met me in person, you know exactly how much weight to put behind that assertion. I’ll link the interview once it’s processed and aired.

Afterwards, Yanni and I went looking for playmates. We found Krissy Scalzi skipping towards the bar and we joined her. Along the way we acquired Jim Hall and his girlfriend, plus one Tobias Buckell — with whom I bonded over the delights of Seasonal Affective Disorder. Hey, he’s a Caribbean man living in the midwest. I’m a Gulf Coast girl living in the northwest. We understood each other. In other news, Toby drives like a maniac. I learned this when we all took off for pizza.

Finally, at 10:00 p.m. I did one of the singularly best-attended panels I’ve ever personally hosted. And I say “hosted” because it was me and one other person, a very nice woman named Wanda who was (if I remember/understand correctly) a real estate agent who was quite interested in the subject of Urban Exploration, but who had no actual experience with it. The room was packed to standing-room only capacity, and it was a decent-sized room to start with. I was frankly intimidated, but willing to wing it — perhaps unnaturally willing to wing it, considering I was fresh from the bar with a couple of vodka-and-cranberry juice doses swishing through my system. I hope I didn’t sound too much like (a). I was encouraging anyone to go break the law, (b). an over-cautious fuddy-duddy, (c). a nervous drunk who had no business speaking on the subject.

After this last panel it was back to the pack of ne’er-do-wells with whom I’d already spent most of the weekend, and we did verily dance around, socialize, gossip, and watch other people in costumes roam the halls. I did not costume. See above, under the “steampunk” heading. I wore jeans, Sketchers, and a too-hip-for-the-room Threadless tee shirt. Yes, yes. So cool. C’est moi. Har.

Sunday: And, well. The next morning I got up early for one more breakfast with the crew — and it was a great breakfast with the crew — but then I had to go back to the airport, and now I’m home. Now I’m also sitting around with a cat draped across my ribcage, and if she weren’t snoring in such an adorable fashion I’d boot her off and run the vacuum cleaner.

But I think I’ve probably spent quite enough time on this recap, and now I need to pretend that I’m a civilized adult who can put away the groceries she bought and/or dress herself in clean clothes that don’t smell like an airplane. Thanks again, and again, and again to everyone who made the weekend so damn wonderful — with bonus thanks to Captain Subterranean and the Attache Queen. The whole experience was amazing, and I hope to give it another go next year … with an extra day or two tacked on for leisure purposes.

Anyway, love to all and back to work for me.
:)

In the last 72 hours, I’ve spent almost exactly as much time sleeping as I’ve spent sitting in an airplane. Ergo, I am exhausted and unwilling to engage in any substantial bloggery … so I’ll shoot for a play-by-play of convention shenanigans tomorrow.

For now, I’m going to take some Advil and settle in for the afternoon/evening.

[Edit: Unrelated to the above, but it bears mentioning — for the last few weeks I’ve had a problem with the comments function (a). over on my main website, if you’re reading this from LJ or RSS feed, or (b). here on CheriePriest.com if you’ve come to the site directly. Thanks to the mighty and powerful Greg, this has been remedied. Everything ought to be working correctly now. Yes, well. That is all. Carry on.]

Tomorrow morning, too bright and early to be called “bright,” I’ll be jetting out to Michigan for Penguicon. I won’t be bringing my laptop with me, so I’ll very likely be without internet access (more or less). But here’s my programming list, posted here partly because (a). people have asked about it and (b). I’ll be missing a couple of my previously assigned events due to scheduling conflicts. Here goes:

Friday at 9:00 p.m. — A Murder of Crows
Friday at 10:00 p.m. — The Steampunk Aesthetic

Saturday at 10:00 a.m. — Urban Exploration
Saturday at 11:00 a.m. — World-building in a Bottle
Saturday at 3:00 p.m. — There’s Darkness in my Genre

And now for 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: 2302 (meh, but I’m stopping early)
Present Total Word Count: 85,703 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Backtracked heavily; began writing on Zeke’s POV because I was getting lost in the final conflict without having nailed down everything that’s happened to him prior to his reintroduction to Briar’s narrative.

Other Observations: I know I said I wasn’t going to do it — go back and start writing Zeke’s stuff before I wrapped up Briar’s stuff — but that’s what writing by the seat of your pants is all about. At least, I felt inspired and got started on it; and I kept second-guessing everything that Zeke was doing when I was writing straight through from Briar’s POV. I loosely mapped out his adventures, but “loosely mapping out” and “knowing exactly how it plays out” aren’t the same thing.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Not much, yet. Did the dishes; dressed self, answered some emails. I’m stopping my writing progress early today because it’s time for me to start prep work for the weekend.

Reason for Stopping: The time has come for me to charge all my electronics, print out airline and hotel paperwork, and decide what I’m going to pack. I’m only bringing my purse (which is admittedly more of a messenger bag, and could be described as “quite large”) and one carry-on, so this is going to be tight. I also need to touch-up ye olde hair dye, gather up meds (including picking up refills), clean out purse and remove things like my thumb-sized Leatherman multi-tool — lest I be branded a terrorist — and other such things. So for now, I’m outta here.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 154,278

This issue features yours truly having a sit-down chat with the marvelous Molly Porkshanks, plus fiction by the likes of Tanith Lee, Michael Moorcock, and Sarah Monette. Lots of good stuff in this one.

Can you believe it? This is the 85th anniversary issue. And I’m proud as hell to be a part of it.

Click the image to order.

“…However, the most revealing character assessment may be one made by Native Americans. In the fall of 1855, Arthur Denny was returning to Seattle from the Territorial Legislature in Olympia. He traveled by Indian canoe, paddled by two Duwampish braves. At one point in the journey, another canoe of warriors pursued Arthur’s canoe. Shouting across the water, they threatened to kill Arthur Denny because he was a “Hyas-Tyee” or Great Chief of his people. Warding off the attackers, the braves paddling Arthur’s canoe shouted back that he wasn’t all that great.”

~From The Pioneers of Lake View by Robert L. Ferguson, re: one of Seattle’s 19th century founders. I’m not writing about this guy in The Boneshaker, but he sounds like such a damn pill I may have to sneak him in as a cameo.

There’s a meme going around about publishing, and which manuscripts make the cut and which ones don’t. Ordinarily I don’t participate in these things, not because I’m too good for them or anything, but because I’m too lazy — but I’ve had about half a dozen people ask me to throw my answers up, so here you go:

Reign of the Desert Snow. Cheesy enough title for you? Well, in my defense I was in seventh grade when I wrote this one. It was about 200 pages long, and it was about me and my cousins helping a mafia don’s daughter escape from the clutches of a drug dealer inside the Great Pyramid at Giza. Then one day the disc upon which this MASTERPIECE was saved … died. I lost the whole thing. At the time, I was inconsolable. In retrospect, I am overjoyed.

Heirloom. This one got started when I was about fourteen. It actually began with a pretty cool scene (which I won’t repeat here, since I sort of plan to revisit it someday), but basically it was a Mary Sue romp about a psychic girl who talked to animals and traveled through time for reasons which now elude me. I’m sure that those reasons seemed reasonable at the time.

Who Buried the Gravedigger? My first full-length ghost story, about 120 pages written when I was 15-16. This one was about a guy who was accused of killing his whole family (thus earning the nickname “The Gravedigger”) … but then he disappeared the night before his trial — having been a victim of the very same murderer who offed his relatives. Somehow this ghost story also turned into a time traveling thing. It was deeply stupid, I assure you.

The Pentagonal. My attempt at epic fantasy, undertaken when I was about 18. It has some strong story elements, all of which were executed with high-level idiocy. It was basically a five-part quest fable about the search for a criminal who escapes from a magical prison called “the Pentagonal.” My college roommate (hi, Lennie!) seemed to really like this one; I used to read it to her as a bedtime story. The whole thing topped out around 170 pages.

Whilom. Written maybe a year later, it was an attempt to invent a new monster. It was not a very good attempt, really. the whole thing was finished at 100 pages, and it was too literal to be a fable, but too mythic to be good urban fantasy.

Piper. My re-tread of the Pied Piper myth, tarted up as a modern fable my junior year of college. The pipe itself was made from a piece of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. It ended up being an oddball travelogue that was frankly bad, though the core of the story was an idea I liked. I later turned it into the short story “Following Piper,” which was published by Subterranean #6. Let it not be said that I’m the kind of woman who wastes a good idea.

Fathom: the First Attempt. I wrote my first draft of Fathom while I was still in college, late in my senior year. It was based on a dream fragment that was basically finished at 90 pages; but everyone who ever read those 90 pages loved them, and wanted more. I tried to comply. My efforts mostly sucked.

Fathom: Attempts Two through Four. Graduate school. Attempts to re-work the original story into something that would work, all of them whole-heartedly terrible. I did not succeed until Liz helped me give it a fresh pair of eyes last year, and now this novel will be appearing — in a much improved form — this coming winter.

Awake Into Darkness: First Attempt. Wrote this one between Fathom and sort of while I was working on 4&20bb’s first edition. Trashy vampire stuff. Good fun, but not a good book. I threw it all out and have started rewriting it with a new vision and a much better protagonist.

Four and Twenty Blackbirds: Take One. The first edition of this book was instigated when I was about 23, while I was still in graduate school and working three jobs. I was the assistant to the head of the rhetoric department, adjunct faculty, and an assistant director for the school aged child care program at a school in East Ridge, Tennessee. And oh yeah. I was a full time student, too. Anytime I find myself whining about not having any time to write, I remind myself of this fact and then I shut the fuck up. This first edition was picked up by a micro-press which will remain nameless, for I would prefer to forget the whole experience. Then I heard from Tor. And the rest was history.

There. I’ve participated.

And now for 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: 4366 (EVEN BETTER THAN YESTERDAY)
Present Total Word Count: 83,401 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Assaulted by a mad scientist; reunited with lost children; treated like hell; ran like crazy; shot up some more zombies; learned that strange things have been going on — well, even stranger things.

Other Observations: Nearly derailed myself today, trying to merge (a). Briar’s narrative with (b). Zeke’s narrative, which I haven’t actually written yet. This is trickier than it looks. I know basically what Zeke’s been up to, and who he’s been running around with … but actually bringing all this together has snared me several times. I strongly considered abandoning this to go back and write Zeke’s sections, but I wanted to move forward with this Nearing The End momentum while I had it. If I need to, I can always rewrite or revise later.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Basically nothing. Dyed hair. Let the cat and the laptop duel for my lap space. Cleaned up a little. Went to the drug store to get a few last-minute things before leaving town. That’s about it.

Reason for Stopping: I’m hungry. Also, I am tired of staring at the screen, and my boobs are falling asleep from sitting here for 2 hours, wearing the cat like a very fat scarf.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 151,976

Since now seems like as good a time as any to mention this, come Friday I’ll be in Michigan — host state of the illustrious Penguicon. Go on. Click around. I’m going to be in excellent company, and if you’re planning to attend, by all means find me and say “hello.” If I think about it, I’ll post my convention schedule later on this week.

In other news, I’ve had a lot of questions lately vis-a-vis what I consider a “good” day’s work of writing. My personal breakdown goes like this:

Marginally Acceptable — 1000 words
Fair — 2000 words
Good — 3000 words
Glorious — 4000+ words

However, if I’m eyeballs-deep in freelance work, I’m often doing quite well to get 1000-2000 words in before the end of the day; so under circumstances such as these, I don’t beat myself up too badly for a somewhat squalid word count. Today, I was not eyeballs-deep in freelance work, but I had some stuff to take care of this morning before I could get to the fiction. Nothing happened on Boneshaker until after lunch, which makes today’s stats all the more pleasing.

So here you go. 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: 4185 (GLORIOUS)
Present Total Word Count: 79,035 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Saw two of the many sides of our mad scientist; fixed Lucy’s arm; subsequently sent Lucy off on an idiotic errand that pissed her off mightily and left Briar alone with Dr. Minnericht; still did not settle the matter of who the doctor really is, or whether or not he knows the importance of Briar’s identity.

Other Observations: I write like a speed demon when the subject is dangerous conversation and/or an action sequence. No wonder this book is going so quickly. However, I did get briefly tangled today and I am starting to worry about my decision to barrel forward without writing Zeke’s POV material first. It might come back to bite me in the ass, but so far I seem to have a decent handle on it. If I need to change a few things later, obviously that’s not a problem.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: More freelancery; submitted 2 invoices; paid some bills; did laundry; groused extensively about the weather, which sucks ass.

Reason for Stopping: Good stopping point. Aric wants to hit up our favorite martini bar after work, which means I’m going to need to change out of these jammies. Ordinarily I don’t sit around in jammies all day, but I did laundry — laundry which included all of my preferred pants and skirts, since I wanted to make sure I had clean clothes to pack for this weekend. I guess I’ll brush my hair or something, too.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 147,610

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: 2987 (respectable, if not glorious)
Present Total Word Count: 74,850 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Traversed many a difficult and perilous landscape in order to find the lair of Dr. Minnericht; explored a bit of the half-finished train station that was abandoned before it was ever finished or used; discovered many strange tools and devices, including a room full of lights and a mad scientist’s workshop encapsulated within a buried railroad car.

Darling DuJour: “One level at a time, the rickety lift dropped the women. Through the skeleton of the huge, stillborn station their stomachs raced to beat them to the bottom; and at the bottom, the doors opened into more startling bareness—more blank reminders that there were no trains, and no tickets, and no customers. This was a place that had never been brand new, and now it felt more ancient than the wings of a fly trapped in dirty amber.”

Other Observations: Frankly, I’m rather astonished that I got this much writing done. I really had a lot of other work to do, and I didn’t have long to spend on Boneshaker; but I’m zipping towards the book’s rollicking climax,* and the closer I get to the end, the faster I tend to write. Now, of course, the question is this — do I (a). write all the way to the end and then go back and write Zeke’s adventuresome POV, or (b). stop now and write Zeke’s POV before he and his mother successfully reunite in the narrative? I haven’t made up my mind yet, and I’m not sure what’s best. [Zeke’s POV will likely amount to an additional 20,000 words, spread across two (possibly three) chunks earlier in the story.]

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Freelancery out the wazoo; cleaned up and submitted a book review; went to the drug store to pick up a few things; got cash; took inventory of the laundry I needed to do but did not actually do any; decided to dye hair tomorrow or Wednesday instead of tonight.

Reason for Stopping: Finally reached the chapter’s end … immediately before the mysterious Dr. Minnericht’s big introduction. Also, I’m getting hungry.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 143,425

Just to play catch-up over the weekend, here you go — pictures to bring everybody up to speed. First up, Friday night we attended festivities out in East Seattle, where Richelle was having a book release party. Hey, look. I caught Aric smiling …

Saturday the weather was just beautiful, which only makes me irrationally irate about how shitty the weather is now — and will continue to be for the foreseeable future. Sometimes I think I’m okay here in the chilly, dank PNW; and sometimes I think I can’t stand it another five minutes.

Anyway, while the sun was out and there was actual Vitamin D in my future, I dragged Aric out to Gasworks park. It would’ve been nicer if everyone else in the city hadn’t had the same idea, but oh well. It was still pretty — even if we spent the whole time dodging kites and Frisbees.

In other news, I failed my freshly restored writing streak over the weekend, but it wasn’t all for naught. I’d run into a wall over where/when/how Briar was going to catch up to her son, and I just wasn’t sure how to proceed. Yes, this is one of the drawbacks of Writing by the Seat of My Pants (as Kat puts it); but I usually manage to smash my way back onto the track, and this story is no exception. Sometimes I just have to step back and look at the whole, then do a little old-school notebook scribbling/diagram drawing until I get myself where I want to be. Is it a perfect system? No. But it hasn’t failed me yet.

Metrics and whatnot to come later on this afternoon. I’ve got some freelance stuff to clear off my plate before I can get around to the fun fiction stuff, so the numbers might not be terribly impressive, but oh well. Better some progress than no progress.

I cannot recall the exact context for my first introduction to Alien. I do remember that I was about ten years old, and I’d come in at the very last third of the film; and I think I was probably at my Dad’s for the summer, because my mother would’ve sooner swallowed a lit road flare than let me watch such a thing. The movie was very likely showing in a bowdlerized version on the USA Network or some equally benign channel.

But none of this matters. What matters is that I was transfixed. I was delighted. I was changed. And it wasn’t the goofy gear, the awkward angles of the blue-collar future, or the Giger monster covered in sex lube.

It was Ellen Ripley.

Backing up for a moment to my (divorced) parents, it’s worth noting several things at this point.

(a). I mostly lived with my mother, who had a deep-seated hate-on for secular fiction of any kind; so the bulk of my pre-adolescent reading material was pretty boring. Mostly it was Heavy-Handed Morality Fables, Marginal Female Characters in the Bible, or Rugged Pioneer Homemakers Who Jesus Saves From Being Raped By The Indians.

(b). My dad kept a much looser rein on what pop culture I could consume, but he only had me for the summers; and he wouldn’t have let me watch Alien at quite such a tender age either, if he’d known about it. I’m pretty sure of this, because I remember begging him to rent the movie for me so I could see the whole thing, and he always had a very logical reason why this simply could not occur right then and there.

Ergo, (c). Until I was old enough to seek out my own pop cultural material, my narrative construct of the Things Girls Are Allowed To Do In Stories was excruciatingly limited. As far as I knew, girls are not allowed to have adventures because they are not smart enough or strong enough, and mostly they should sit around and pray for boys to come and rescue them. Or, sometimes they are Blessed By God … but, you know. Not me. Not any of the girls I knew, either. To the best of my knowledge I was unacquainted with any saints, and heaven knew I didn’t qualify for the position; so exciting times were pretty much off limits.

This chapped my hide eight ways from Sunday. Even when I was very young, I wanted to write adventure stories about girls like me — or women like I wanted to become — and I didn’t see any good reason why I couldn’t. Except that, well, as far as I knew nobody did. And you weren’t supposed to. Because let me be clear about what I learned from the things I saw and read: Girls do not get to save the day. That is not their job, unless God absolutely can’t get His hands on anybody with a penis right at that moment. And then, when all is said and done, God is going to take credit for any heroics because only a man can be a hero. A woman is just a vessel.

Even if you don’t buy into it, when you’re a kid, you’re pretty much stuck with it. And when you don’t have any icons to show you another way, you start to think that maybe there isn’t one.

But then one day while my dad wasn’t paying attention, the last third of Alien came on the tube.

At first, I didn’t know what to make of it. As far as I could tell, it was mostly just some woman running around in a space ship, trying not to get killed by a man in a rubber suit; but the longer I watched, the more it gripped me. And in the end, it gave me more to think about than any Aunt Sue and Uncle Dan tape.*

It blew my mind because it was a story about a woman surviving by the force of her own initiative.

It is no exaggeration to say that this completely changed the way I viewed the world. And keep in mind that I was a child at the time, but it gave me permission to think about things that had never occurred to me before. For my very first epiphany, I understood that you could tell an exciting story and you could put a girl in the lead role; and she could rescue her own goddamned self.

My second epiphany was that I could write a character like that because, believe it or not, there are women like that. You’d think this would be screamingly obvious, but it wasn’t for me. My mother and her sisters are the sort of women for whom any male over the age of 18 is an EMP; when faced with such a master creature, they collectively lose their ability to drive, to open doors, to choose restaurants, open jars, or change light bulbs. So you must understand, the prospect of meeting or even becoming the kind of woman who can blow up a space craft the size of a small city, kill a highly evolved homicidal alien, and save the ship’s cat while she’s at it … now that was novel.

Nay. It was glorious.

And this past Friday night at midnight, I went with Aric and Alex to go catch the director’s cut of Alien. It was showing at the Egyptian, a vintage theater on Capital Hill, a few blocks away from where we live; and I was so excited about it that a hipster couple at the concession stand openly mocked me, as if they couldn’t kiss my ass.

I WAS GONNA SEE RIPLEY ON THE BIG SCREEN.
And I DID.

So the question is, mythic remembrance aside, does it still hold up? I would argue that the answer is a resounding “yes.”

Alien did so many things right that I’m prepared to forgive it the Alien’s “jazz-hands” routine, the slower-than-Christmas opening sequence, and dated special effects. And yes, most of those right things still revolve around Ripley.

It’s noteworthy to me that she’s not the captain. She’s not a princess. She’s not a mutant, a witch, or a vampire — and though any given one of these things is fine and dandy, it resonates with me that she’s not anybody special. Third in a chain of command that numbers merely seven, Ripley is resented for what little authority she wields and ignored when it serves the purposes of other crew members. She isn’t a force of personality or innate power. She’s not anyone’s romantic partner. She’s just some woman who happens to be on board when the shit hits the fan.

And she’s no spontaneous ass-kicking warrior.
She screws up a lot.

She takes the wrong tunnels, makes some wrong guesses, and loses her shit more than once — but she pulls her shit together, that’s the important thing. It’s okay to make mistakes, teaches Ripley, as long as you don’t let your failures paralyze you. It’s okay to be a compassionate survivor, and go out of your way to save the ones you can even when it isn’t particularly practical. It is fair and reasonable to cut your losses when no good can come of trying to salvage them. Pray if you think it helps, but don’t bet on rescue; because when the sun comes up on the distant planetoid and there’s an acid-blooded killing machine stalking through your galley, the time has come to rescue your own goddamned self.

And you know what? You can. You don’t have to be a fairy queen or a superhero; you can be just some woman who’s there at the wrong place, in the wrong time — and it doesn’t have to be the end of the world.

So yes, Friday night/Saturday morning I fell in love with Alien all over again. And yes, part of my spectator bliss is no doubt indebted to that first early viewing nearly 25 years ago, but that makes it no less meaningful. I don’t mind admitting that I was honestly moved during some of the final scenes, when all is lost and doom is impending, and there goes Ripley — not finished yet. She’s got a flame thrower in one hand and a boxed-up cat in the other, and hell or high water she’s leaving this joint … blowing up the whole shebang behind her, if it comes to that.

[:: wipes away a little tear ::]

Hmm. Upon rereading this entry before hitting the “post” button, I realize that I have no earthly idea how to wind this down. Really, I just wanted to blather for a few paragraphs about how excited I was to see Alien on the big screen, and then it turned into this raging fangirl manifesto. Yes, well. These things happen, I suppose.

So how about this? I’ve done my pop culture icon love-rambling, now it’s your turn. Who pulled the chain to light the bulb in your head when you were a kid? Go on, tell me. I won’t make fun of you for it. Ripley made me cry a little bit when she chucked the ship’s cat into the escape shuttle for safe keeping. You can’t possibly confess anything sillier than that.

[Edit: Comment here or over here, as you like.]

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: Still writing every day, as planned.
New Words: 2097 (meh.)
Present Total Word Count: 71,863 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Things Accomplished in Fiction: Discovered not nearly as much as hoped; retrieved Lucy; began working towards the old train station, where the mad scientist is holed up and waiting; encountered some of his oddball transportation/navigation network; rode a very strange elevator.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Cleaned house; double-checked transportation plans/reservations for next weekend; took a nap because I was completely exhausted.

Reason for Stopping: Good stopping point; continued exhaustion; desire to sit around and read instead of sit around and write for a little while.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 140,438