Driftwood in your ear

That header sounds painful, now that I think about it.

Anyway, if you would prefer to listen to a story about Driftwood rather than read it, you can now download the audio from BCS. (Which also has a new Aliette de Bodard story this week, one of her Aztec pieces. I haven’t read it yet, but I am very much looking forward to it.)

I’ve also put up an extra tidbit for the Driftwood fans: “Smiling at the End of the World.” It’s a piece of flash fiction from Last’s point of view, but since Driftwood flash doesn’t stand on its own very well, I’ve chosen to just post it to my site as a freebie. Enjoy!

Do you like superheroes? (Or supervillains?)

Jackie Kessler and Caitlin Kittredge are doing a pretty sweet contest for their upcoming book Shades of Gray (sequel to Black and White, their first superhero/urban fantasy collaboration). Due to legal restrictions, the contest is open to everybody, but the general idea is to get people to pre-order Shades of Gray, so as to help ensure it will actually show up on bookstore shelves. (There’s been a problem with the situation there, but I don’t know if the details are mine to share.) Ergo, if you like the idea of superhero fiction in non-comics form, check out that link, enter the contest, and spread the word!

doing the math

The good news is, I don’t think I’ll have to completely replace every Dead Rick scene from Part One.

Just a bit more than half of them.

Seriously, I feel like a book or two ago, somebody sneaked in and replaced my writing process with another author’s. I used to write relatively clean first drafts; now I flounder through writing wrong scenes left and right, inventing Spanish nymphs that may not even show up in the final draft, and generally failing to figure out what one of the villains is doing. Some concerted effort on my part has at least begun to sort that last bit out, which is why my pessimistic guess of “all Dead Rick scenes” has been revised downward to “five of the nine, with revision on the rest,” but it’s still disheartening. (Oh yeah, and I’ll probably need to write at least one entirely new scene, aside from replacing half of those already there.)

I’m glad I noticed the growing pattern from Ashes and Star, and gave myself extra time for this book. Otherwise I’d be screeeeeeeeewed.

I’m also very glad that I figured out most of Eliza’s PII while in London, as it gives me something to do while I figure out where I went wrong on the Dead Rick end. If I can manage to do his scene replacements while moving forward on her part, I’ll be in good shape. But first I need to finish sorting out him and Nadrett — and figure out if La Madura’s staying in the book or not — so I know what to replace those scenes with.

Best of Talebones semi-TOC

I’m calling this a semi-TOC because unless Patrick intends to organize the stories alphabetically by their authors’ last names, this is not the order the anthology will have in the end. But if you’re curious to know what’s going in the Best of Talebones collection, here’s the list:

Barth Anderson, “Landlocked”
Jennifer Rachel Baumer, “The Forever Sleep”
Marie Brennan, “The Twa Corbies”
Mike Brotherton, “Jack in the Box”
Jack Cady, “The Parable of Satan’s Adversary”
Stephen Couch, “The Dandelion Clock”
Aliette de Bodard, “Safe, Child, Safe”
Eric Del Carlo, “Nothing But Fear”
Alan DeNiro, “Comachrome”
Charles Coleman Finlay, “Hail Conductor”
James C. Glass, “Robbie”
Anne Harris, “Still Life with Boobs”
Barb Hendee , “The Winds of Brennan Marcher”
Nina Kiriki Hoffman, “Snow on Snow”
Kay Kenyon, “The Acid Test”
Mary Robinette Kowal, “Death Comes But Twice”
Jay Lake, “Tall Spirits, Blocking the Night”
Catherine Macleod, “Seepage”
Nick Mamatas, “Your Life, Fifteen Minutes from Now”
Louise Marley, “Night Shift”
Sandra McDonald, “Bluebeard by the Sea”
Terry McGarry, “God of Exile”
Paul Melko, “Ten Sigmas”
William Mingin, “From Sunset to the White Sea”
Devon Monk, ” Sugar ‘n’ Spice”
William F. Nolan, “Wolf Song”
Patrick O’Leary, ” 23 Skidoo”
Tom Piccirilli, “Caucasus”
John A. Pitts, “Three Chords and the Truth”
Sarah Prineas, “The Dog Prince”
Ken Rand, “Song of Mother Jungle”
Mark Rich, “Zothique Mi Amor”
Uncle River, “Love of the True God”
Patricia Russo, “Swoop”
James Sallis, “Roofs and Forgiveness in the Early Dawn”
Ken Scholes, “Edward Bear and the Very Long Walk”
Jack Skillingstead, “Two”
Bruce Taylor, “Spiders”
Steve Rasnic Tem, “Cats, Dogs, and Other Creatures”
James Van Pelt, “The Yard God”
Carrie Vaughn, “The Girl with the Pre-Raphaelite Hair”
Ray Vukcevich, “The Next Best Thing”

I’m very flattered to be in the company of some of those authors. Congrats to all, and especially to Patrick Swenson, who is making this happen!

more linky

Because, having cleaned out my browser, I don’t want it getting cluttered again so soon:

Miss D.C. body-slams groper

So, it’s worth mentioning that responding physically to someone groping you is not necessarily a good idea; it can escalate a situation that might have otherwise stayed minor, to the detriment of the woman trying to protect herself. But what I love about this is a) the hilarious contrast of a beauty queen slamming somebody into a wall, and b) more importantly, the way that hilarious contrast has helped make this incident news: Miss D.C., Jen Corey, now has a chance to talk about the truly unacceptable way women are often treated while engaged in such provocative activities as walking down a public street. And she isn’t letting that chance go to waste. To which I say, well-done, ma’am. The more we talk about this, the better.

If you missed it over the weekend . . . .

I posted a new excerpt from A Star Shall Fall (beginning of the whole is here).

And while I’m tidying up my browser, I might as well make this a linkdump post and add in two other things:

Cat Valente on the power of the suit — which I note mostly because, as I was saying to a friend recently, I have essentially no fashion registers between “jeans and t-shirt” and “formal wear.” I’ve sort of acquired a degree of business casual, left over from the year when I was teaching my own (non-archaeology-related*) classes, which you can see in action at ICFA and other warm-weather cons, but most of the time I default to a higher degree of slobbiness. But I really enjoy dressing up, i.e. actual fancy wear. It’s just the middle registers I don’t have much use for.

The Pleasures of Imagination — what struck me in this was a bit near the end, where the author said,

I have argued that our emotions are partially insensitive to the contrast between real versus imaginary, but it is not as if we don’t care—real events are typically more moving than their fictional counterparts. This is in part because real events can affect us in the real world, and in part because we tend to ruminate about the implications of real-world acts. When the movie is finished or the show is canceled, the characters are over and done with. It would be odd to worry about how Hamlet’s friends are coping with his death because these friends don’t exist; to think about them would involve creating a novel fiction.

And I immediately thought, “hello, fanfiction.” Because the aftermath of trauma is one of several fertile areas out of which derivative works can sprout.

This has been your not-at-all-regularly-scheduled schizophrenic link post.

*My theory was that when you’re assistant-teaching intro to archaeology, you’ll actually get more cred by showing up in jeans and a flannel shirt than a skirt and heels.

80 days and counting

The other writing-related bit of news I promised is another excerpt from A Star Shall Fall. This one introduces Mr. Galen St. Clair, first of the novel’s two protagonists — with a bonus cameo appearance by a Famous Historical Figure. (Who, like Newton, and indeed most of the FHFs that show up in this book, is not so good with the social graces. I guess that’s what happens when your book concerns itself with scientific history.)

If you missed the earlier excerpts, the beginning is here. Enjoy!

miscellaneous bits of news

Proof I have gotten way too pale: I managed to pick up a bit of a tan in freaking London.

Anyway, onto actual news, of the writing-related sort. Various bits and pieces accumulated while I was gone, so in no particular order . . .

1) I’ve sold an audio reprint of “Kingspeaker” to Podcastle.

2) Go here for another chance to win an ARC of A Star Shall Fall (scroll down for details). Author Stephanie Burgis is, with permission, re-gifting the copy I sent her.

3) Clockwork Phoenix 3 has gotten a starred review from Publishers Weekly, with this to say about my own contribution: “Marie Brennan sets the bar high with ‘The Gospel of Nachash,’ a fine reinterpretation of the Adam and Eve legend from a fresh perspective.” Also, finalized cover art.

4) An interesting post about “Remembering Light” and Driftwood more generally. I remain faintly boggled by how strongly people react to the setting — boggled, and flattered. I really do need to get more Driftwood stories written.

5) My remaining bit of news will get its own post in a bit, so instead I’ll use this spot to mention that I’m still seeking a title for the Victorian book. For those not aware or in need of a refresher, my requirements are here and here; you can leave suggestions on one of those posts, in the comments to this post, or send them to my e-mail (marie dot brennan at gmail dot com).

back in the saddle

I didn’t write while in London, nor did I revise. The first was expected, but the second wasn’t; unfortunately, the cold drained me of too much energy to be useful on that front.

So I haven’t technically written since May 27th, which is a remarkably long break for me while noveling. I think it was a good idea, though. The latest iteration of my much-revised timetable for this book focuses not on words per day, but on larger units than that: the book is in three parts, I have six months to write it, therefore I need to write one part every two months. I can technically take off as many days as I like, so long as I complete Part Two by the end of July. Since it’s supposed to be about forty-five thousand words, and there are sixty-one days in June and July, that’s eminently doable, even with a long break.

Mind you, I also need to revise. And Part One, as mentioned in my last status update, needs a lot of work, especially on the Dead Rick side. The good news is that one of my semi-sleepless nights in London brought with it an outline for something like 75% of Eliza’s PII scenes, so I can cruise along writing those while I figure out where I went wrong with Dead Rick, and where I’m going next. It might be a little <sarcasm>fun-tastic</sarcasm> from here to the end of June, while I pull double-duty on revision and writing, but I think I’ll survive.

Anyway, 1393 words today, because I wanted to clear the 40K mark I should have hit back in May. I’d revise a bit, too, but Jet Lag Brain utterly scotched my attempts to think about Dead Rick earlier, so I think I’ll take what I’ve got and get to bed. Time enough for the rest of it tomorrow.

Word count: 40, 026
LBR quota: Blood; Mrs. Kittering’s on the warpath.
Authorial sadism: Sorry, Ann. I have to make good on the claim that servants in that house get treated like shit.

Day Eight (belated): In which I do not go to York

When I was scheduling appointments for this trip, I deliberately left today open, because previous experience told me the preceding week would give me ideas for other things I needed to do — things not already on the schedule. Unfortunately, the major item on that list just isn’t feasible: I can’t get to York, make productive use of the Railway Museum archives, and get back in time for my flight tomorrow morning. But I’ve got plenty of smaller odds and ends with which to fill my day, and those will just have to be enough.

(more…)

Day Seven: In which I feel like I’m in an episode of The Sandbaggers

All right, so what I did today wasn’t nearly so exciting as a Sandbaggers episode, and for this I am duly grateful. But I spent my morning in an office that called to mind Willie and Denson’s exchange when Diane walked into their hutch — “Sorry, ladies’ loo is down the hall;” “Somewhat larger and better appointed” — sorting through folders of paper not unlike the ones stacked up on Burnside’s desk, listening to guys with English accents discuss topics include the Home and Foreign Offices. Is it any wonder I make the comparison?

Those of you with no idea what I’m talking about may be more interested in (and jealous of) this: I got to page through Inspector Abberline’s personal scrapbook. Yes, the Inspector Abberline who worked on the Whitechapel murders. Sadly, the scrapbook actually makes no mention of Jack the Ripper; in fact; it leapfrogs over that period, going from 1887 to 1891. Maybe he had another scrapbook for those years, kept somewhere more interesting than a bottom drawer in an obscure office in West Brompton. But it was full of carefully-glued newspaper clippings and notes in Abberline’s own handwriting, which affected me as it always does: he immediately stopped being a Historical Figure and became a real person, which never stops being cool.

More sitting on my butt in libraries ensues.

Day Five: In which I am diverted, entertainingly

It’s hard to make myself take it easy. Despite my best efforts, I fail to sleep in; once I wake up, that’s it, there’s no going back. But my appointment isn’t until 11:15, so I sit around the hotel being glad I have Steam’s King’s Quest package on my laptop, because that gives me something to do that isn’t wandering around. If my respiratory system and ankle were in full working order, I’d probably saddle up and walk to Kensington again, but given the circumstances, that would be dumb. (If I could brain at that hour of the morning, I would write — but I can’t, so.)

What I Did With My Day, by Swan Tower, Age 29

Day Four: In which I do not re-tear a ligament

So apparently, coming down with a cold isn’t enough back luck for one trip. This morning, I did the one thing I must not do:

I twisted my ankle.

Yes, THAT ankle. On my way to the Tower Gateway for the DLR, I stepped on the edge of one of the shallow gutters along the footpath and overturned my foot, in exactly the direction it needs to not go. While it’s probably fair to say I did more damage to my nerves than to my foot, that isn’t to say it escaped completely unscathed; it is a bit twingy. Still, “a bit twingy” is much less than I feared, in that first instant of blind unreasoning horror. As soon as I could think, I dropped my bag and downed some Advil, and put my foot up on on the seat on the ride out to the West India Quay, and fortunately, the Museum in Docklands is abundantly supplied with portable folding stools. (Also, while I’m sure it’s possible to walk out there — heck, I’m not surprised to see Google tell me it’s closer than Chelsea, less than four miles — no way on God’s paved earth was I going to do that, even before the ankle incident.)

So I’m largely okay, more rattled than hurt. But definitely rattled, I must admit.

Not that I let that stop me.

Science-y query (another non-trip post)

If you’re a math-and-science type person, please read this and give me your thoughts.

***

Tonight I thought up a question that really shouldn’t wait until after my trip is done, because depending on the answer, I may end up working it into the revision I’m trying to do while I’m here.

Before the question, though, the background: Charles Babbage designed two devices, the Difference Engine and the Analytical Engine. The former is essentially a calculator, doing polynomial functions; the latter (had it been built) would have been an early computer, capable of being programmed to do several different mathematical jobs.

So imagine you’re reading a book set in 1884, and it tells you that faeries got hold of those ideas and built them, But Better — for values of “better” that involve extrapolating this design in a magical direction. My question to you all is twofold. First, what extrapolations would you consider reasonable, given the parameters? Second, what extrapolations would make you say “Oh please” and put the book down? Example: “It would be cool if it could do calculations using imaginary numbers, but dumb if it could run World of Warcraft.” Or whatever. In essence, I want this to be interesting, but I don’t want it to be interesting in a way that’s totally divorced from the original purpose of the design.

I’m soliticing feedback because this is, among other things, a matter of the boundary between “suspension of disbelief” and “excruciating torture of disbelief.” Which varies from person to person, though math-and-science type people are likely to have a much firmer boundary than those who don’t know Babbage from Byron. Also, thanks in part to a declining series of math teachers in my education, I no longer have much love for the subject; ergo, if I ask my brain to think about “math magic,” it pulls up images of workbooks designed to make third-graders believe math is fun. So I am ill-suited to judging what I can get away with designing. Would it bother you if the faeries’ Analytical Engine performed non-numerical calculations of some kind? What if its function was predictive, analyzing a situation to make semi-divinatory, pseudo-statistical descriptions of the future? Would something like that bother you? What wouldn’t bother you, that also isn’t so mundane that it wouldn’t add much to the story? (The other ideas I’ve come up with so far all fall into that latter camp.)

Feel free to respond however you like — brainstorm, talk amongst yourselves, go off onto wild digressions about nineteenth-century math. I know some of you have thought about math + magic, so I’d love to hear what you have to say.

Day Two: In which battle plans do not survive contact with the enemy

I dawdle a little this morning because I have to wait for the Bank of England to open at 9:30, so I can go exchange some old pound notes I brought with me. On the way back from that, I detour on impulse to the Guildhall library, where I waste half an hour waiting for a book that turns out to have gone missing. But the visit itself is not a waste, as the helpful librarian (I’ve yet to meet a non-helpful librarian at the Guildhall, or indeed at most libraries) tells me the king of thing I’m looking for — a survey map of London’s Victorian sewers — has been moved to the London Metropolitan Archives. Particularly alert readers will recognize that name from my Ashes-trip adventures in secretary hand. The archives, of course, are in Clerkenwell, and it turns out that on Thursdays they’re open until 7:30. I may also be able to get the info I want at Abbey Mills, but it’s worth trying this first, because it’s closer, and I have a catalogue reference that looks promising. So much for the quiet evening I had planned, eh?

Actually, my whole plan for today is a bit borked. Which turns out to be a bit of a theme.