Cherie Priest

It’s been a tremendously busy week over here, thus my dearth of posting. The construction/demo continues apace, but it continues at a very different pace than we were warned; rather than a week of extensive home invasion/refurb then peace, we’ll be getting intermittent home invasion/refurb for the next couple of months (at least). The long and short of this is that some days are okay (when the electricians are working at the other end of the building), and some days are bad (when they’re inside my apartment, or working above/next door to me). Oh well. Nothing to be done about it now.*

They’ll be here on Monday, which will annoy me a bit because I won’t be here — and I live in more-or-less permanent fear of my cat dashing underfoot/underpowertools/out the door. So although I don’t want to sit here and listen to the work all day, at least if I’m here, I don’t worry about the cat. On the upshot, I’m slightly less fretful now that I’ve met and spoken with the electricians a time or two. Thus far they’ve been very aware of the building’s feline population (call it legion, for they are many); and even though I didn’t request it, during their previous visits they’ve been very careful to keep the door closed as they come and go. I have definitely appreciated the courtesy.

Anyway. New subject.

Sooo. The reason I’m going to be gone much of Monday is as follows: For the first time in ten years, I’m going to the dentist. I’m starting to have trouble with a couple of my back teeth, and one of these troublesome teeth has very suddenly begun to cause me quite a lot of pain (though it’s easily managed with Motrin, at the moment — so really it’s not THAT bad). Since I’m going to be heading off on tour next month, I really wanted to get this addressed before finding myself out in the boonies, in my friend’s car, hundreds of miles from a dentist, and trying to act personable during this big-ass, week-long event.

Why has it been ten years? I think I mentioned this in one of those “20 things about me” memes; but to recap, the reasons are several and varied. (1). For about eight of the last ten years, I haven’t had any dental insurance. (2). I had SO MUCH WORK done on my mouth when I was younger, that I hated the idea of letting anyone poke and prod at my teeth anymore. (3). The longer you go, the worse you need it, and the less you want to bother with it. Yanno? But I’m finally sucking it up and going on Monday, to a dentist my husband has come to like quite well. My appointment is at 9:30 in the morning, in part because they fully expect me to be there awhile.

And now I give you some links.

• Penguicon I finalized my travel arrangements for this fine, upstanding convention — and I will be one of their “nifty” guests. I’m not real sure what this “nifty” designation means, but hey, I’ll take it. They put on a good show, and I’m proud to be part of it again this year.

• Coilhouse #2 is totally hot. I should know — I’ve already got my copy. It’s a beautiful magazine from cover to cover, and this issue features some excellent stuff, including interviews with Margaret Cho and Selene Luna, some amazing art and fashion spreads, and the hippest damn paper dolls I’ve ever seen.

• Red Staters are the largest pornography consumers, bar none. It’s no surprise to me that the distinct and direct correlation is there; I don’t think it’s any big secret that the more repressive the culture, the more desperate the need for sexual outlets.

• Fighting the Plague in the Great Plains with Gerbils. Giant gerbils from Kazakhstan may be the last best hope for understanding and controlling outbreaks of — you got it — bubonic plague. Because real life is weirder than fiction, that’s why.
  

And here’s the recent progress on my book about a kidnapped baby with webbed hands and feet; her 17-year-old half brother who’s determined to rescue her; a creepy island in Puget Sound that’s been quarantined since 1918, and the Mother Hydra cult that has established itself thereupon; now with Bonus! fish people, religious zealots, and a teenage cryptozoology fanatic who really should’ve picked another hobby:

Project: Far-Fetched
New Words: 638 (boo.)
Present Total Word Count: 20,075 words
Goal: 65,000 words

Observations: The island is everything I’d hoped it’d be and more. We’re starting at an abandoned lighthouse, where a very expensive motorboat has been beached and seemingly forgotten. Our heroes are not alone. That’s both good and bad.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Settled the aforementioned travel plans; spent several hours filling out paperwork for the CPA and adding up receipts; filled out a new patient packet for the dentist’s office (which took longer than you’d expect); cleaned house including bathrooms, kitchen.

Reason for Stopping: I don’t remember. To tell you the truth, I haven’t worked on this in a couple of days; I’ve been trying to get ahead of my day-job game a little bit, since this coming week is filled with appointments and whatnot. I might try to get a little work done on it today, but then again, I might not.

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* We’re looking into some options involving a reduced rent/etcetera, but PLEASE do not comment or email with suggestions. We have our reasons for staying put, and I don’t intend to go into all the details here in order to validate our decisions. Thanks.

Here’s today’s present progress on my book about a kidnapped baby with webbed hands and feet; her 17-year-old half brother who’s determined to rescue her; a creepy island in Puget Sound that’s been quarantined since 1918, and the Mother Hydra cult that has established itself thereupon; now with Bonus! fish people, religious zealots, and a teenage cryptozoology fanatic who really should’ve picked another hobby:

Project: Far-Fetched
New Words: 2416 (not bad for half an afternoon)
Present Total Word Count: 19,437 words
Goal: 65,000 words

Observations: Oooh… this island be wicked, yo.

Next Up: Our young cryptozoology fanatic, “Iggy,” will enter the picture. He doesn’t have much choice. He was stranded on the island before Jonah and Wynn ever got there, and boy howdy does he want to get the hell out of there. Alas (for him), it will not be so simple. [:: Cue evil author laughter ::]

Resolutions: I want to put at least 5000 words on the island before doubling back and working this sample content up into a first draft; so that means at least 3-4 days of my “1000 words a day or bust!” philosophy, if all goes well. You never know.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Performed day-job duties for several hours; read part of a book that I absolutely must finish for the sake of a potential gig to be forthcoming; spent a bit on the phone with the boss-man; went to Walgreens and picked up some stuff, but forgot the most important thing I needed, natch; dodged the electricians, who mostly stayed in the attic today; failed to bring inbox down to 0.

Reason for Stopping: Hmm. Yanno, after I throw a frozen lasagna into the oven for supper tonight, I might just come back and get a little more work done. Then again, I might not. I have another project I need to address; we shall see.

• NOMULENT. I ate one of these cookies the other day, because I am fortunate enough to be friends with the chefs who bake them. These enormous baked goods are everything advertised and more, I promise you. If you’re a retailer and you’d like to ask them about wholesale prices, click here and get the skinny. (Unfortunately, they are only selling to distributors at this time, and are not taking individual orders.)

• Not my husband. I’ve now had about half a dozen people send me a link to this web serial, either (a). pointing out that this actor looks a lot like my husband, or (b). asking if that actor is my husband. Regarding (a): Yeah, he kind of looks like that guy. Regarding (b): No. It isn’t him.

• Road Trip of the Living Dead. My buddy (and soon to be travel companion) Mark Henry has just released his second literary child into the world, and boys and girls, it’s a doozy. Mark’s stuff is smart, funny, unbalanced, and so damn edgy it could shave its own legs. I highly recommend that you pick this up, as well as its predecessor, Happy Hour of the Damned.

• Palimpsest is the newest book by Cat Valente and lots of very cool people are saying some very good things about it. Perhaps you ought to buy it and read it. [:: makes hypnotic googly-hand-gestures at you ::]

• Speaking of books: Help cheer me up? As you now know (perhaps a little too well) I’m having a rough week, and I’m likely to have a rough couple of months. But you know what would make me feel better? Selling some more books … or even, perhaps, if you’ve read and/or enjoyed one of my books, you’d be so kind as to leave a review or two, indicating as much? I figure it can’t hurt to ask …
  

Here’s today’s present progress on my book about a kidnapped baby with webbed hands and feet; her 17-year-old half brother who’s determined to rescue her; a creepy island in Puget Sound that’s been quarantined since 1918, and the Mother Hydra cult that has established itself thereupon; now with Bonus! fish people, religious zealots, and a teenage cryptozoology fanatic who really should’ve picked another hobby:

Project: Far-Fetched
New Words: 2786 (not good for 3 days, but not quite embarrassing either)
Present Total Word Count: 17,021 words
Goal: 65,000 words

Observations: Realized I needed to know more about the kind of boats people use here in the PNW; I have a passing familiarity with boats on the Gulf Coast, but the Gulf is generally a quiet place to go motoring about, and I didn’t know if I could count on similar things/boats/motors/styles up here. I think I picked a transportation vessel that is — if not ideal — at least marginally credible. It’s not a huge point, but I figured I’d rather make it look right the first time than change it later. STILL not on the island. That will absolutely change starting next chapter, I swear.

Resolutions: I will NOT quit working on this — not until I make at least another 5000-10,000 words on it, so that it’s worth the time to give to agent/first readers/etc. My progress has slowed due to some day job projects and the possibility of a very cool new assignment (for which I must do some homework first), not to mention the sudden and alarming construction on my new apartment; but I WON’T drop it. Even if I’m only doing a few hundred words a day, I will keep dragging myself forward on this. It’s a fun story, and creepy and good, and I want to turn it into an Actual Potential Project. Dammit. One way or another.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Performed day-job duties for several hours; read part of a book that I absolutely must finish for the sake of a potential gig to be forthcoming; emptied the contents of my closet into my bedroom; cried a little; introduced the kitty to the electricians, who admired her accordingly; made sure the cat wouldn’t try to hide underfoot in the bedroom (the closet and under-the-bed are her preferred spots when frightened); hunkered down to work some more while trying to ignore growing headache and sounds of demo from the bedroom closet about twenty feet away.

Reason for Stopping: Psynde is coming over soon for supper and laptop-adjustments; I felt the need to wrap it up at a tidy corner — the end of a chapter. Tomorrow, our heroes will find the sinister little island and begin explorations, meet new friends/monsters/etc. But not today.

The notice we received in the mail yesterday said things would begin next week, and we’d receive another notice letting us know when our unit could expect an invasion. That knock on the door just now? A pair of electricians, explaining that they need to cut a wall out of my bedroom closet. Right now. Or rather, right when they get back from their lunch break.

They seem like nice guys. One of them loves cats, and has several at home. He made friendly noises at Spainy, who reciprocated.

Anyway. I have to quit what I’m doing right now and go empty my closet before they get back.

As we learned via mail notice yesterday, many of the things that drew us to our new apartment are about to change. Starting next week, the building’s owners will begin ripping out the steam heat (and the brand new boiler) in favor of tacky baseboard heaters; they’re going to be tearing up the walls to rewire the whole building’s electrical system; and next month, they’ll begin taking apart an entirely different set of walls in order to upgrade all the plumbing. We’ll be keeping the (soon to be useless) radiators because it “contributes to the charm of the place,” which is code for “we don’t want to tear up and repair the floors in order to extract them.” There’s a chance we’ll be losing that wonderful cast iron tub.

The building is 100 years old, and I’ll admit that the plumbing could stand a do-over; though we were assured upon moving in that the brand spanking new boiler (which I saw with my own two eyes) promised problem-free climate control for decades to come — and I’ll also admit that we didn’t think to ask about the electric system, due to the preponderance of modern outlets and appliances throughout the unit.

But we did ask a lot of questions before we moved in, and we were either misled or lied to outright — though there’s always the chance that the building manager (a resident) simply didn’t know about the bulk of it. For example, the Land Use Notice across the street is dated December 22, 2008 and we signed our lease weeks before then … so I doubt he was aware that a developer intends to level the buildings across the street and put up apartments and condominiums sometime in the near future. Given the kind of luck we have with such things, I predict that demolition and construction will probably begin … oh … right around the time a few months from now when construction/renovation is completed on this building. Just to make sure I don’t get any peace and quiet ever again.

We’re promised only a week or so of invasive demo/refurb on our individual units, though I likely will have no electricity during business hours on that “week or so” that they’re working, which will be a real hoot since I work from home — and since we have an occupied aquarium and a cat, and no safe place to store either one … so I’m expected to stick around and monitor the situation. Therefore, during the worst of things I’ll be sitting right here, just like I’m here today. And even on the weeks when it’s not our apartment up for shredding, I’m sure that — just like today — I’ll be sitting right here listening to the dulcet tones of reciprocating saws and hammers.

They started underneath us, in the apartment downstairs. It might as well be right beside my desk for all the racket.

As you might imagine, I’m none too happy about any of this. It might not be altogether out of line to say that I am, in fact, catastrophically depressed over the matter — given that we just exhausted our finances in order to move out of a StructuralFail! apartment barely one month ago, and we’re in no position to move again. So please, please, please don’t email me with outrage on my behalf, telling me that we have grounds to leave the lease and go somewhere else, because even if you’re right, we simply don’t have the money to do it again. In fact, I think I’m going to disallow commenting both here and on LJ on general principle. I love you guys, but I really don’t want to spend the next few hours defending our inability to escape.

There are other factors contributing to my simmering rage, but they don’t really bear unpacking here.

Suffice it to say, we’re here for awhile, and it isn’t going to be very nice. It will be several months before all the renovations are finished (if we’re lucky), and then we can reasonably expect the joys and delights of demolition and construction about twenty yards away for an indefinite period of time.

Goddamn. I really wanted to love this place.

After Patricia Briggs’s reading the other night, the crew was called out by a very nice woman from D.C. — a certain Heather Fagan — who had a camera and a request for a group shot. Well … actually a request for two group shots. This is the first, and at present it stands as probably the finest picture of the bunch of us taken to date.

Left to right that’s Kat, Mark, Richelle, Caitlin, and Yours Truly.

(As a side note, I am particularly amused by the way the tentacle on my shirt seems to be lovingly cupping my boob.)

And then she pitched that second request.
[:: cough cough ::]
Click the jump to see it.

(more…)

Finally it arrived — and by “it” I mean this. Spainy was utterly unenthusiastic about the box it came in, but once I cut up the Giant Cardboard Cube of Terror and set it aside (and once the condo was assembled), she deigned to come on out and give her new digs a once-over.

At this moment, she’s sitting on the top platform and watching birds. I’d take a picture, but my camera battery has died on me, and it is presently recharging. However, I’m sure the opportunity for pictures will continue to present itself — and you can expect Cat-On-Condo pics aplenty in the future.

But I want it! And yes, by way of posting it here I’m only climbing onboard a contrived bandwagon spawned, maintained, and manipulated by the advertisers and purveyors of soulless mass culture … but frankly, I don’t much care.

Hamster Cinema indeed.

Here’s today’s present progress on my book about a kidnapped baby with webbed hands and feet; her 17-year-old half brother who’s determined to rescue her; a creepy island in Puget Sound that’s been quarantined since 1918, and the Mother Hydra cult that has established itself thereupon; now with Bonus! fish people, religious zealots, and a teenage cryptozoology fanatic who really should’ve picked another hobby:

Project: (Tentative title) Far-Fetched
New Words: 1638
Present Total Word Count: 14,235 words
Goal: 65,000 words

Observations: I’m trying to keep the travelogue to a minimum, and so far, so good; it’s only taking the kids a couple of pages to get from the suburbs of Seattle to San Juan Island (from whence they’ll bribe, connive, and force their way out to a distant, virtually unknown [and utterly fictional] island some miles to the west). But I came to the end of the chapter, so I stopped there.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Performed day-job duties, including phone calls, lots of proofreading, etcetera; made a LOT of food and proceeded to eat it; answered a bunch of emails; that’s about it, really.

Reason for Stopping: I need to clean up the kitchen before the husband comes home, though I won’t be making more food at this time (he’ll swing by before his martial arts class, and is unlikely to eat anything before bopping right back out the door). I just don’t like having a sink full of dirty dishes and a counter smeared with sour cream, that’s all. And anyway, I want to do a little more day-job work for tomorrow; I’m trying to finish something up, but I refuse to let it go back to zee boss before I’ve double-checked it. Yeah, well. I’m neurotic that way.

Ken’s reading last night was a real hoot, and if you haven’t picked up his marvelous brand new novel yet, then you absolutely ought to. I got mine last night. And it’s signed. He’s a great guy, that Ken — and I’m not just saying that because we’re practically cousins.*

Monday’s Christopher Moore event was cool too, though not everyone in the audience was likewise groovy. I don’t know. Different vibe. But Moore seems like a funny guy, and maybe I’ll pick up one of his books, one of these days.

Anyway. Here’s my present progress on my book about a kidnapped baby with webbed hands and feet; her 17-year-old half brother who’s determined to rescue her; a creepy island in Puget Sound that’s been quarantined since 1918, and the Mother Hydra cult that has established itself thereupon; now with Bonus! fish people, religious zealots, and a teenage cryptozoology fanatic who really should’ve picked another hobby:

Project: (Tentative title) Far-Fetched
New Words: 2583 (between today and yesterday)
Present Total Word Count: 12,597 words
Goal: 65,000 words

Observations: I’ve almost got the players to the island now, which tickles me pink. The island is where all the really wazzy stuff will go down, but a certain amount of set-up is required to get them there … and it’s been coming together pretty well in the last couple of days. I’m not making mad gangbusters progress on this thing, but then again, I’m not really trying to. I’m just trying to hold steady around a thousand words a day — more if possible, but if not, I’m not going to beat myself up about it.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Performed standard day-job duties; changed the litterbox; answered a bunch of emails; mailed off some stuff; went to the store for some Drano; fixed clogged kitchen sink; took care of a bit of writing business.

Reason for Stopping: Getting hungry. Contemplating a big fat pot of Spaghetti a la Cherie.** The husband will likely not complain when he gets home, as he seems to rather dig my personal wacky style of pasta.

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* We have both an agent and a publisher in common. That makes us quasi-related, right?
** Boil lots of spaghetti in a really huge pot. Drain it. Throw it back in the pot. Dump in a spaghetti sauce, a splash of milk, a glop of butter, and an excessive dusting of Parmesan cheese. Stir it all up and dump it in a big bowl. Add more cheese. Call it “done.” Yeah, it’s kind of slap-dash and trashy, but you don’t hear me making any apologies, do you?

Tonight, 7:00, at Seattle’s U-district bookstore … the lovely and talented Ken Scholes will be reading from his new novel Lamentation, and I intend to be there. I believe Kat Richardson will also be in attendance, and possibly Ellen and Psynde will join us as well.

I do confess, I have not yet read the novel (considering it only just debuted … today? Yesterday? I think I can be forgiven); but Ken’s short stories are downright awesome, and I have very high hopes for his longer work as well.

So come on out!
See the show!
Buy the book!
Support your first-time novelists!

DOO EET.

Here’s my present progress on my book about a kidnapped baby with webbed hands and feet; her 17-year-old half brother who’s determined to rescue her; a creepy island in Puget Sound that’s been quarantined since 1918, and the Mother Hydra cult that has established itself thereupon; now with Bonus! fish people, religious zealots, and a teenage cryptozoology fanatic who really should’ve picked another hobby:

Project: (Tentative title) Far-Fetched
New Words: 2398 (but some of that was written last night)
Present Total Word Count: 10,014 words
Goal: 65,000 words

Observations: I’m trying to cram a lot of set-up into a fairly short space; I want to hurry up and get to the island — since that’s where all the best stuff goes down. But it’s a little bit of a trick, getting lots of “here’s what’s going on” laid down without creating an infodump swamp. Still, you know what they say about (when in doubt) bringing in a man with a gun. Come to find out, it works just as well if you bring in an 18-year-old girl with a gun.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Spent a bunch of work time trying to get my work laptop to interface correctly with my printer/scanner; printed out hard copies of revisions for previous project and marked them up accordingly; did some proofreading; walked down to the post only to learn/remember that it’s President’s Day and there could be no Mailing of Important Things; moved Eldest Bamboo* to a larger urn filled with rocks and water, and set it outside — for it was not getting any love on the upmost kitchen shelf.

Reason for Stopping: Team Seattle — at least, those of us who are in town right now — are going to nab supper and then roll out to see Christopher Moore at the U-district bookstore. I’ve never read any of his books, though I hear they’re quite good, and maybe I’ll come away converted. Mostly, I’m along for the ride for camaraderie’s sake, and out of curiosity. But anyway, we’ll be leaving soon (must get there early!) and I need to change clothes, freshen up, etc.

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* I have two sets of bamboo — one adorable tiny batch that I received recently, and an older batch I picked up a couple of years ago. The older bamboo batch has gotten, well, pretty much HUGE. It needed to go outside now. It’s happier there, on my kitchen balconette.

I realize I’ve been largely absent for the last week or so, but that’s just how it goes sometimes. I blog the least on the days that are busiest; and the preceding days have been just packed. Last Monday was my little brother’s birthday (his Officially Not A Teenager Anymore birthday); on Wednesday I caught up with Kat for a lunch that ran quite long, and then went over to visit Psynde; Thursday I met Richelle in the U-district, signed a little stock for Duane, and then we caught up to Kat again at a bar in Ballard; and Friday was lunch and useful-errand-running with Psynde.

All of these things were very, very good; and all of them went down as I’ve continued to settle into my new part-time day job.

Yesterday was a low-key Valentine’s Day, and today the husband and I got lunch in Fremont before parting ways for the afternoon. Now I’m home, and I’ve been writing (believe it or not!), and I just noticed it’s been several days since I mentioned … well … anything online. So here I go, trying to rectify that. I realize it’s rather like reading a list of items from someone’s day planner, but I just don’t have the energy to make it sound more exciting right now.

In writing news, since I’m under no further contractual obligation at the moment, I’m noodling around with whatever I like, pretty much; and at the moment, I like the idea of trying another young adult project.* I’d been fiddling with the bones of this one for a couple of weeks, and I only began writing it a few days ago.

So here’s my present progress on my book about a kidnapped baby with webbed hands and feet; her 17-year-old half brother who’s determined to rescue her; a creepy island in Puget Sound that’s been quarantined since 1918, and the Mother Hydra cult that has established itself thereupon; now with Bonus! fish people, zombies, religious zealots, and a teenage cryptozoology fanatic who really should’ve picked another hobby:

Project: (Tentative title) Far-Fetched
New Words: N/A
Present Total Word Count: 7616 words
Goal: 65,000 words

Observations: This has been conceived as a gateway drug to lure young people into Lovecraft’s slimy, tentacled arms; and so far, so good (or so I’d like to think). The story has been stylistically informed by the Call of Cthulhu and Silent Hill video game franchises … yanno. In a good way.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: See first few paragraphs above.

Reason for Stopping: Felt the need to update webpage. Might actually go back to work here; though the husband will be home from his ninja classes before long. We shall see.

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* My previous attempt at a YA project is still making the rounds. When there’s news on that front, rest assured I’ll share it.

• Sunken Treasure: Wil Wheaton’s Hot Cocoa Box Sampler. Sunken Treasure is a short collection of Wil’s favorite pieces from his books and blog, including a production diary from his 2008 role in Criminal Minds and much, much more. If you like Wil’s writing — of if you’ve ever been curious about his writing and wondered where to begin — then this is a most excellent place to start.

• In case of WorldFail, read this. It’s Hacking the Earth by renowned environmental futurist Jamais Cascio. What do we do if our best efforts to limit the emission of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere fall short? According to a growing number of environmental scientists, we may be forced to try an experiment in global climate management: geoengineering. Geoengineering would be risky, likely to provoke international tension, and certain to have unexpected consequences. It may also be inevitable.

• The Fast Fiction Challenge by Lee Barnett. In the summer of 2005, Lee Barnett gave readers of his blog and other writers a simple challenge: “reply with a title (no longer than four words) about which you’d like me to write a fast fiction of exactly 200 words, along with a word you want me to include in the tale.” And the challenges arrived: Stories with titles like “She Killed Me Twice”, “The Brain That Exploded”, “The Pachyderm Wore Pink” and “Single White Fee Male” with words like ranunculus, vaginate and carronade. 300 stories later, here for the first time in print are 180 of the best.
  

We need a new tree for Spain the Cat. Her present tree, though tasteful and pretty, is now about three years old and ladies and gentlemen I tell you what — this 12-pound meat-head furball is tough on cat furniture. All the carpet is gone around the base of the “tree,” and around each subsequent level all the way to the top. It looks like we’ve had an indecisive beaver lurking about, trying to figure out where to begin gnawing in earnest.

Also, it’s a smidge wobbly and maybe a little bit too high. She’s taken to leaping down onto an end table, which usually (a). nearly destroys the lamp which sits thereupon, (b). makes a really loud noise that scares the crap out of me in the middle of the night, and (c). since the table-top is slick, she always crashes/skids/catches herself claws-out on the couch. For you see — and I really hate typing this out, but — our marvelous little scratching machine ain’t a spring chicken anymore. She’s about nine or ten years old now, and she just doesn’t scale tall items with the verve and panache of her younger days.*

So. Yes. This is where you, the internet readers, come in. I have found nothing to rock my socks in any given store in the greater Seattle area, so I’m turning to the internet and prepared to pay shipping and handling and/or assemble my own damn tree.

Requirements:

We need something that’s fairly tall, but not a skyscraper. Nothing above 54 inches, certainly; 48 inches or so would be preferable. It needs to be nice and stable, not tall and skinny; and it needs a high platform big enough for a plus-sized cat to sprawl upon; in a best-case scenario it would be tiered, or have step-style levels that would make it easier for her to climb up and down (WITHOUT using the people-furniture as a landing pad**). It doesn’t need to be crazy fancy, but we’d like something that’s reasonably attractive. You can see her atop her present tree in this photo. We’d love to get something of a similarly “organic” design, but I’ll be damned if I can find one for less than 300 bucks.***

That’s the last requirement, really. We need to keep this fairly reasonable — around a hundred bucks, if possible … maybe $175 at the outside (including shipping). We recognize our pet’s need for cat-specific furnishings (so that she leaves the couch and curtains alone), but we’ve got a budget here, and we’re not going to go bananas. Simple is better. Pretty is preferable. Cheap is ideal (and non-negotiable).

Does anyone have any suggestions?

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* This is both true and misleading. To tell it straight, this cat isn’t exactly a ballerina on her toes, but that’s not a new development. She’s always been clumsy and a little reckless for a cat; she’s never been one of those lithe felines that could pirouette on the spine of The Old Man and the Sea.
** As a side note, there’s no other logical, reasonable place to put the cat tree. All other windows are effectively blocked, and heaven knows that she MUST be able to see out a window. She’s a cat. It’s written into her contract.
*** We paid less than a hundred for that one, at Petsmart — which no longer carries it or anything like it. I’ve seen similar ones on the ‘net for $350-400, but I just can’t spring for that.

• I don’t know who this Nerd King is, but I thank him. He’s written an in-depth, thoughtful review (that’s basically spoiler-free) of Fathom … a book which is always happy for a few more reviews — both on friendly blogs as we as oh, say, on Amazon or B&N.com. Just sayin’.

• Preview of the Brubaker/Phillips INCOGNITO. Meet the Black Death. Five years ago someone ratted-out this super-powered crime lord and he’s been doing hard time ever since. So, what will he do when he finds out an old henchman who’s supposed to be DEAD has been living in Witness Protection all this time? Hint - He’s going to kill a lot of people.

• SteamCon boogies along. I reserved my hotel room this afternoon. [:: high fives self ::]

• The Shirley Jackson Awards. As many of you have heard (and joked about), the Shirley Jackson Awards are hosting a fund-raising lottery wherein much great loot can be found. The lottery begins today, February 9th, 2009 at midnight Eastern Time and ends on February 23rd, 2009 at midnight.
  

Got some writing done yesterday after work, and a little more writing done today before gallivanting with Psynde; and now I’m thinking that what I’ve got thus far is probably satisfactory from a “sample content” standpoint. It’s about fifty pages long, it establishes all three protagonists, threatens to destroy the whole world, and introduces a genuinely terrifying monster to boot.

I really dig this project. I’m going to sit on it over the weekend and shine it up a bit before passing it along to first readers.

So. Here’s the recent progress on the novel about a decommissioned Greek fury, her quasi-immortal Chinese ex-lover, and an Iranian astrologer with a drinking problem, now with Bonus! threat to the entirety of humankind, and a homicidal winged monster with a blindfold nailed to its face:

Project: The Engines of Wrath
New Words: 2038
Present Total Word Count: 15,153 words
Goal: 100,000 words

Observations: I really like this world and these characters, and now I have a couple of nasty forces working in opposition to them, mwoo hah hah. This could be a huge book, or it could be a small, very personal one. I’m not yet sure how it’ll work out. I’ll need to consult the usual suspects before I pick a direction for it.

Darling du Jour: “I destroyed the world once.” She shrugged. “It worked out all right.”

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Got lunch and groceries with Psynde; did end-of-week housework (cleaned bathroom, kitchen, floors, etc.); did a chunk of regular, paying work; brainstormed for another project.

Reason for Stopping: Snack break. Desire to update webpage.

Behold - I give you Spain the Cat playing with her New Favorite Thing … the laser pointer Psynde gave her a few days ago. THRILL to see this kitty humping the wall as she tries to nab the distressing red dot! GASP at my realistic “pew pew pew” laser sounds! BE AMAZED at the dexterity and footwork of a fat little house cat on a mission!

Today I got my authors copies of Those Who Went Remain There Still in the mail,* and folks, I gotta tell ya — this is a pretty book. I mean, the content is worth remarking as well, don’t get me wrong; but seriously … it’s a striking little tome.

I won’t rehash the self-pimpery of days past or anything, but it definitely is worth stating that this is a limited edition project, and and when this lovely hardback is gone, it’s gone. Period. Finito. End of story. And lest you think to yourself, “Self, I’ll just wait until the rush calms down and then I’ll pick one up; I’m sure at least one or two will be left over,” then let me remind you that the similarly limited edition of Dreadful Skin sold out rather quickly upon debut.**

So here, for your shopping convenience, I offer once more:

Special Limited Edition - Signed hardback. Comes with the informative (and entertaining!) chapbook explaining the making of the book, with Bonus! family lore and at least one instance of my aunt making witchy finger gestures while saying, “MWOO HAH HAH HAH HAH!” Only available direct from the publisher.

Trade Edition. Fully cloth-bound hardback. Also available at the publisher’s site, if you’d prefer. Both editions are illustrated by Mark Geyer (who you may recall from the very fine artwork within Dreadful Skin.

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* I asked the publisher to wait until I’d moved before mailing the copies.
** It’s been out of print for well over a year, I believe. That’s why it ended up in the pretty new trade paperback edition.

As most of you know, I recently took a part-time gig doing editorial work for the marvelous independent publisher Subterranean Press; well, I started my first project on Monday, and so far so good. For the last couple of days I’ve been pacing myself, measuring, sorting — seeing what kind of pattern or routine this was likely to assume. And today, having become reasonably comfortable with what sort of hours I was looking at, I once again resumed my attempts to write fiction.

Mind you, there’s no way in hell I’m going to make my lofty New Year’s Resolution goals. I’m not even going to try to average a thousand words a day this year. It was a dumb goal (given my real life circumstances, and my longer-term plans) and I officially disavow it. But I am taking this opportunity of stability and routine to revisit some projects I set aside last year.

First up, the novel about a decommissioned Greek fury, her quasi-immortal Chinese ex-lover, and an Iranian astrologer with a drinking problem:

Project: The Engines of Wrath
New Words: 1478
Present Total Word Count: 13,115 words
Goal: 100,000 words

Observations: I set this project down in the interest of concentrating on paying gigs; and besides, at the time I was a little afraid that maybe I’d bitten off more than I could chew. It’s a big story with a lot of messy stuff in it — but I think, probably, yeah. Now’s the time to give it another look. At the very least I need to cough up enough sample content so I can actually show it to someone. So the real goal for right now, with this particular project, is maybe 15,000-20,000 words.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Spent several hours doing Real Paying Work; cleaned house a little; argued with UPS; made some phone calls; pestered the kitty.

Reason for Stopping: Suppertime.

• Steamcon. I bet you guys can’t guess where I’m gonna be in October. Baby, I’m already cleaning out my ray gun and shining up my goggles.

• The League of Reluctant Adults. Rather says it all, I think. I wrote my introductory post the other day; basically, this is a conglomerate of like-minded paranormal writing fellows who are determined to natter on in yet another venue. Go click around and check it out. I’m in really good company over there.
  

By the eleventh day, the explorers had lost all sense of their position relative to the jungle pyramid, but this was just as well. If the intrepid Miss Sullivan had known that Mr. Swingle was painting his face, cleaning his elephant gun, and preparing for mischief beneath the Jacarandas … she likely would’ve shot him anyway, and — convenient as his absolute dismissal might have proved — murder charges were not part of the itinerary.

[Go here to see a few more shots (noodled with, and un-noodled-with) from picture day with Caitlin.]