Update #2

Next up, housing.

We managed to finish packing in time for the movers’ arrival last week (though I had to abandon kniedzw to the task of handling them, since by then I was on my way to Dallas). More importantly, we managed — right before he left — to secure a sublease for our apartment, which we were on the hook for through April. Praise Be to the gods of housing, indeed. This is particularly worth noting because the subleaser we had lined up backed off at the last instant, leaving us with nothing. (I was caught somewhere between despair and murderous rage when I found that out, because I got the e-mail at 4:30 in the morning, right before we left to drive to the hospital for my father’s surgery. Can you say bad timing?) Anyway, all is well.

So now our stuff is somewhere in the Midwest, on its way here, and in the meantime we’re living at my brother’s house, which is where kniedzw has been all this summer. Our new place has a number of lovely things going for it, chief of which are the three skylights in the upstairs ceiling; combine that with big windows in the master bedroom and living room, and high ceilings and big rooms in general, and I am a happy cat with many sunbeams to nap in. (Once I have furniture instead of just a floor, that is.) My office is noticeably pink in the daytime, though, owing to the sun on the red roof tiles across the courtyard. Oh well. I can put up with pink.

Even better, it’s within walking distance of all kinds of fantabulous things. (Yes, d_aulnoy, such things do exist in California. Just not the part of it you’re living in.) After six years in a town with no Vietnamese food whatsoever, I now live within two minutes of some — most of those two minutes being spent getting out of and around my own apartment complex; if I could leap over the roof I’d be there in less than a minute. Had lunch there yesterday, and it wasn’t great, but you know what? There’s another one a block away, and more if I go looking. Yes, I am in the land of Asian Food Galore, particularly if you’re looking for Japanese. The Japanese population in San Mateo is dense enough that the restaurants don’t even have to call themselves “Royal Tokyo” or “Mr. Sushi;” they can be more obscure things like “Kaimuki” or even just “Liquid.” Y’know, like a normal restaurant, that can call itself whatever sounds nice.

Wandered on foot around downtown San Mateo for a little while this afternoon. It’s quite pleasant, and there’s Shakespeare in the Park this weekend, which always makes me look kindly on a town. (It’s Pericles, no less; this place has enough confidence in its outdoor Shakespeare to do the less-familiar plays.) The movie theatre is damned expensive, but it’s within walking distance, and it doesn’t suck like the Kerasotes monopoly in Bloomington, so hey.

More to come on this topic, I’m sure, once I actually start moving in.

First in a series

Didja miss me?

I haven’t been out of Internet access, but I’ve lacked the energy to post. Which has, of course, resulted in an incredible build-up of things I ought to or would like to post about. Rather than cramming them all in one monstrously long entry that nobody would read, I’m going to tackle one general topic at a time.

***

First off, health. As some of you know, my father went in for bypass surgery last week, and I flew home for it. He is doing very well — out of the hospital already, with only minor complications so far, knock on wood. So that’s one of my stressors deleted off the list.

Speaking of stress, though — funny story. My father gets out of surgery, I go in to see him, and come very close to passing out next to his bed. Which is odd, because I’m not generally a squeamish person, and standing in the ICU did not distress me in ways that typically result in fainting. Then I remember that I’ve been having problems with light-headedness lately, for about a week or two. When we get home that night, my mother trots out a home blood pressure cuff, in order to test a theory.

Now, I know those aren’t the most accurate things in the world, but even with a margin of error, 84/43 is kind of on the low side.

I’ve always had fairly low blood pressure; 100/60 is my usual. 84/43 is putting me in the territory of the bridesmaid who fainted at my wedding. (I suddenly understand how these things happen. And hey, add it to the list of things I can write about effectively.) Anyway, this is something I will consult a doctor about if it continues, but right now I’m curious. I mean, I thought stress was supposed to raise one’s blood pressure, not lower it. Does anybody have insight on/experience with this? Is it likely to be connected to a blood sugar issue? I’ve never had problems with hypoglycemia, but I kept testing myself with that cuff, and food most definitely affects the results.

I really don’t know what to make of this, except for a detached, intellectual interest every time my head goes kind of floaty and I feel like I’ve been hyperventilating.

So, yeah. Anybody with useful info on this matter, feel free to offer it in comments. I am, as I said, quite curious.

This?

Was not supposed to be a 4200-word night.

In fact, I think I even promised kitsunealyc that it wouldn’t be.

But, um, that promise, it got broke real good. There are just bits of story that you cannot stop in the middle of, and this turned out to be one. Not because of explosions — the usual excuse — but because I really didn’t enjoy going some of the places I had to go, and once there, I’d rather just stay and get it all done with. Suffice to say that we are at the height of the Great Plague, at this point, and I feel obscurely that I owe it to the hundred thousand Londoners who died to do everything in my power to communicate just how horrific that was.

Horrific enough that people committed suicide rather than wait for the plague to finish killing them. Horrific enough that they threw themselves into the mass graves, already wrapped in their winding-sheets, as if they were corpses before they even died.

Imagining that is not exactly fun.

4200 words for seven scenes, most of them deeply unpleasant. It’s a good thing tomorrow’s scene will be . . . not exactly enjoyable, but a breath of air after this suffocating passage, because otherwise I’d be sorely tempted to take the day off. And then perhaps another, and then moving eats me alive, and the next thing I know I’m behind schedule and out of the novel’s headspace.

I’m making good progress, at least.

Word count: 85,888
LBR quota: What do you think?
Authorial sadism: See above.

and there goes the benchmark!

Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. Tonight’s work was supposed to be a particular scene, which would take at least my 1K quota to finish.

2,411 words later, the bloody thing is done at last.

I didn’t think I would reach 80K tonight, what with being over 2K away from it. Well, hello, you novel-thing you. We’re still a long way from the end, but 80K is traditionally minimum real novel length, so the number still looks a little magical to me. Crossing that line means we’re approaching the end. (Even if it’s still 50K away — which I hope it isn’t.)

Oh, and that’s with having skipped over one bit, because I’m not sure what to put in it. Dear Merlin: no, you cannot be in this book. Please go away.

Word count: 80,277
LBR quota: Blood. And how.
Authorial sadism: The funny thing is, Lune believes that was less mean than the alternative.

T3

We’re going into the last week of “pack to move halfway across the country while also going full-steam ahead through the novel,” and I’m trying to be as good as I can about policing my sanity. I can, you see, be very bad about figuring out when I need to take breaks, and when those breaks need to involve human beings not inside the Magic Picture Box.

To that end, I wandered down to moonartemis76‘s place this evening, and we finished our tour through the Terminator movies by watching T3: Rise of the Machines. I wanted to see it mostly to bridge between T2 and the upcoming Salvation, but I have to say: surprisingly, it was not nearly as bad as I was expecting. In fact, I don’t think I would call it bad. Not as good as the first two, and overly self-indulgent when it comes to the special effects — but they did a nice job of finding ways to rotate their ideas* and develop motifs from the previous movies. The call-backs were pretty thick on the ground, but that’s kind of a feature on the franchise. (“She’ll be back.” Etc.)

I’m interested to see the fourth movie, and I do want to give The Sarah Connor Chronicles a shot at some point, since apparently that isn’t half-bad, either. As far as franchise survival goes, this one is maintaining a better average of quality than most — which is to say, not phenomenal, but not a steady downhill slide, either.

*By “rotate their ideas,” I mean things like how Schwarzenegger was the bad guy in the first film but the good guy in the second — and if you watch T2, they do an excellent job of faking you out on that front. The series works very conscientiously to set up your expectations and then do something new. The “something new” isn’t always brilliant, but I give them points for trying.

ha!

Historical serendipity strikes again. I chose Antony’s ward more or less at random; basically I decided to put him on Lombard Street, which meant either Langbourn or Candlewick, and I chose the former. Turns out — if I’m correctly translating from a modern map of ward boundaries; King William Street wasn’t there back then — the first City plague death in 1665 was in Antony’s ward.

I should double-check this in Stow, but not tonight.

the magical amazing ever-expanding book

Part III is done. Which is something of a miracle, since it’s about 5K longer than my original estimation for the length of each of these sections.

Word count: 72010
LBR tally: Lately, rhetoric is winning.
Authorial sadism: I’ve slacked off on that for a few scenes, actually. They need some breathing room before the things I’ve got in store.

***

So here’s how me and deadlines work.

The book is officially due October first. I got started June first. At one thousand words a day — my standard pace — I can therefore write 122K by my deadline. I was aiming for a 110K book, so that gives me breathing room, as does the fact that I tend to accumulate overage; 1K/day is a minimum, not an average.

But I knew going in that this summer would involve more non-working days than usual, thanks to everything else in my life. So that margin of safety shrinks. Then I realize the book needs to be longer. How much longer? Don’t really know. I’d be surprised if it goes past 130K, but 120K is pretty much a given at this point. Suddenly, that margin of safety? Not so much with the existing.

Ten days before the end of July, I realize I’m about six days ahead of the base schedule. I decide to see if I can’t up that to ten by the end of the month — that is, to close out July with 71K instead of 61K. (Consequence: I work through Conestoga, tapping away on my laptop in my hotel room at night.) And then I decide on this trip to Dallas, and figure that we can do a bit better with that goal; I’ll finish Part III by the end of the month.

And so I have done. In the last three days, I’ve written over six thousand words. But this afternoon’s scene was only 402 words, so we’ll probably sit down and poke at the beginning of Part IV later tonight.

In a truly delusional world, I would try to do Part IV and then the bits covering the Fire by the end of this month. But that’s going to be another 40-50K words, and the middle of August will be shot all to hell, so I won’t lock myself into it.

(I won’t lock myself into it. But anybody who knows my working habits know that the minute I think of something like that, my subconscious decides I’m going to try for it anyway.)

This is how I do it. Not with carrots dangling in front of me, but a stick behind. I drive myself hard early on because that’s better, in my mind, then driving myself at the end; I’d rather push through and have breathing space than find myself in a crunch right before deadline. Who knows what else might crop up to delay me? Who knows how many additional words this book will need in order to be fully itself? If it caps out at 140K, I need to know I’ll have enough time for those extra words.

Yes, it is crazy-making. But now doesn’t seem like the time to fiddle with my habits. So Part III is done, and we’ll write more tonight — just to be safe.

I meant to do that . . . .?

It may look like I’ve been cherry-picking reviews that speak positively of Midnight Never Come, but the truth is I post everything that makes a substantive comment on the book. (I don’t figure you all want to see every post that mentions it in passing; possibly you don’t even want to see what I do post.) Anyway, as if to prove that, this roundup is a mixed-to-negative bag — for some reason I hit a run of less enthusiastic reviews lately.

occultatio read it right after finishing Dorothy Dunnett’s Lymond Chronicles, which is the fastest way I can think of to make my book suck. I will be the first in line to admit that, by comparison with her, my writing is lightweight. But if I work very hard and eat my vegetables, one day I may grow mighty enough to equal her first novel. (Pardon me while I go cry again over the fact that she was that damn good right out of the gate.)

meganbmoore liked it in the end, but found the opening overly political and slow-going.

Trinuviel at FantasyBookSpot loved the premise and structure, but the execution just did not come through for her. Despite that, I recommend you go read her review if you like digging past the surface; she clearly knows her way around the Tudor period, and says many intelligent things about my structural choices.

And then a glowing review, to wrap this set up: Lory Hess at the Green Man Review stayed up way past midnight reading it. (And made my day by being the only person so far to make mention of the alchemical allusion at the beginning of Act I. That was a shout-out to my Memento peeps.)

***

Here’s the funny thing about Trinuviel’s review, which I’d like to discuss more. As I said, she knows her history, and brings up the motif of doubling in Elizabethan thought, connecting that with my mirroring of Elizabeth and Invidiana.

If I were smart, I’d let you believe I planned that all along. Truth is? I didn’t. At the time that I thought up Invidiana, I had no idea that doubling was a thing back then, and I’d never heard of the king’s two bodies. I came across it later, certainly — I don’t think I could have done that much research and missed it — but even then, it never occurred to me to turn around and connect that to the idea already in place.

All the things she says about the way the doubling plays out were most definitely deliberate, but the idea itself was a felicitous accident. Which is something I’ve wondered about ever since I started writing seriously enough to think about the kinds of things we tend to say in English classes and research papers: how much of what we see in a story is deliberate? This gets into the whole “the author is dead” notion in literary criticism, and I’m on the fence about that. On the one hand, being an anthropologist and a writer myself, I always want to know about the person behind the words, the ways in which the author and the context of creation can shed new light on the story you read. On the other hand, sometimes you can find perfectly legitimate meanings in a text that were created completely by accident. It’s why I’m always careful to phrase things as “you can read this out of it” unless I know for a fact that the author put it in there on purpose.

At any rate, her comments are food for thought — especially since I’m currently trying to decide how seventeenth-century fae, influenced by contemporary mortal ideas, might handle the issue of legal justice. I think we have a tendency to cut our fantasy creations slack, to behave as if absolutism and arbitrary sentencing are somehow more attractive when they’re done by a faerie, but this strikes me as a fine time to poke holes in that idea. (Now I just need to figure out how to follow a different model without making it mundane and boring.)

street date, and icon needed!

Things have been so crazy-busy that I haven’t said anything about this before, but today is the street date for Warrior and Witch (the novels formerly known as Doppelganger and Warrior and Witch). Not that this means much, since they’ve been on shelves in many places for the last week or more, but y’know. Anyway, I highly encourage obsessive-compulsive tendencies toward completism, so go buy the new editions, to go along with the old!

Can anybody make me an animated LJ icon that shifts back and forth between the new covers? I’d like to have one all-purpose icon for that series.

Edited: Many thanks to jimhines for the timely satisfaction of that request.

Survived Day 1 of Conestoga despite getting up at 4 a.m. for my flight (having gone to bed after midnight, with only middling success at that whole “sleep” thing). Even managed to get 1099 words tonight.

Yay for Jack pov, at last. Yay for Antony’s wife getting to do something important. And if that scene doesn’t quite find the right note for resolving a certain problem, well, I can fiddle with it when I have functioning brain cells again.

‘Night!

more roundup

These things have been piling up, so . . . .

I answer six questions for Jeff VanderMeer’s Amazon blog. Some of them are standard. Some of them are very much not.

***

Doug Knipe, Sci-Fi Guy, liked the book.

So did Graeme Flory, though he felt a bit overwhelmed by the historical detail.

By contrast, Emily Huck didn’t see much actual history in it, at least in the sense of specific events. (She will find this flaw remedied and then some in the next book, if she picks it up.)

Gayle Surrette of SFRevu forgot to take review notes while reading, which is encouraging.

Matt Staggs of Enter the Octopus thought the ending was a bit rushed, but liked it anyway.

Kathy, the Oklahoma Booklady, gave it 4.5 out of 5.

fhtagn read it side-by-side with The Queen’s Bastard (which I blurbed) and liked it. Go Elizabethan fantasy!

And more good things from Aliette de Bodard, who’s the first person I’ve seen peg it as a secret history. (Which is how I view it — that and “historical urban fantasy” are my personal labels for it. Which answers a question in Graeme’s review, I suppose.)

***

I’ve gotten way fewer e-mails about this book than I did after Doppelganger came out, but many more reviews, both professional and casual. Interesting.

Okay . . . y’all know I’m a geek.

But even I feel vaguely ashamed to admit how funny I found this video.

Back to my writerly lifestyle, where two fonts encompass almost the entirety of my world: Times New Roman and Courier New. (But I can dream of more . . . .)

ETA: Also, snurched from ellen_kushner who got it from libba_bray,

EVERY TIME YOU POST WITH CAP LOCKS ON,
ee cummings kills a kitten.

This article explains so much of my condition these days.

I have been up for three hours, but I have yet to make it out the front door to run the errands I need to carry out today. Deciding on dinner is hard, and what’s easiest tends to win. I spend my free time reading mindless comfort books, and have no social life because making that happen requires decisions, and those take energy.

Could this be because I spend my days organizing and packing the house (and doing things like picking a moving company) and my nights writing a brain-intensive book? While also trying to assemble enough of a committee to walk out of here with my master’s?

Nah.

It doesn’t fix the problem to have scientists tell me “you’ve got a limited amount of decision-making capacity and it gets harder the more you do it,” but it makes me feel better about being a lazy slug for whom picking which Netflix movie to watch seems like an awful amount of work.

I’m watching TV.

It’s funny, realizing just how long it’s been since I had to remember to turn the TV on at a particular time, on a particular channel, because I wanted to watch something current.

I watch a lot of TV, but 99.9% of it is on DVD, after the season is over. Commercials annoy the snot out of me; I like being able to hit pause and wander off to get a drink; I like watching the show at my own pace (which is often “marathon”). But when my mother was here a few weeks ago, we watched So You Think You Can Dance, and — gasp — I’ve continued to watch it since then.

Here’s why I like the show. (The dance thing, obviously, but there’s more to it than that.)

For starters, they’re doing a pretty good job of being open to all kinds of styles, from ballroom to ballet to street. Not only can you potentially get on the show whether you’re swing or crunk, once you’re there, they’ll make you operate outside of your safety zone. So we get hip-hop guys doing the foxtrot, and ballerinas grunging it up, and some of them adapt spectacularly. (It also, as a corollary, means that the show has a higher degree of racial diversity than I’ve seen practically anywhere on TV. I predict that once this week’s cuts are made, there won’t be any white guys left — and the only one remaining is a Hawaiian guy who looks like he has more than just Europeans in his ancestry.)

Also, until they get down to the last 10, the cuts are made by both popular and judge decision. That is, viewers vote, and then the bottom slice of contestants solo before the judges boot one guy and one girl. This guarantees that when you get to the final stages of the show, everybody left is actually good. You may have preferred someone who got cut, but the remaining dancers are at least worthy.

Which means that the later stages of the show are really friendly instead of vicious and cut-throat, at least as seen on TV. Tonight’s episode was one big love-in, with the judges raving about what beautiful dancers all of them are; even when they criticize, they often do it apologetically, with references to all the other wonderful things the dancer is capable of, even if they failed at the current routine. And since the contestants have to dance in pairs, whatever sniping may go on backstage, you don’t see it out front; trying to undercut your partner is about the stupidest move you could make. The best way to look good is to make the person you’re with look good. There’s no Donald Trump being an asshole at the contestants, no fake conflict generated to boost ratings.

So what you’re left with is a lot of friendly people creating beautiful and diverse art.

For that, I remind myself to turn on the TV every Wednesday at 8 p.m. It’s worth the effort.

geesh

2896. Because I am very bad at stopping in the middle of the ‘splody. And then another 39 more, because I’m also bad at stopping 37 words short of my next benchmark.

Well, I wanted to hit 60K before Conestoga. I just didn’t mean to do it tonight.

Wordcount: 60002
LBR quota: Blood. It goes well with ‘splody.
Authorial sadism: Well, I had to come up with a reason they couldn’t just solve all their problems that way.

Favorite bits: Yay for crispy moths, conveniently timed changes in the lieutenancy in the Tower of London, curious horses, cameo appearances by Scottish fae, and knowing that particular peep has your back.

Conestoga

I head off to Conestoga in Tulsa this weekend. For those who will be attending, here’s my schedule of events:

Fri 03:00 PM – Researching the Fantastic

Sat 09:00 AM – Teaching Science Fiction

Sat 12:00 PM – Broad Universe Rapid-Fire Reading

Sat 01:00 PM – Creatures: Faeries, Demons & Zombies

Sat 03:00 PM – Signing

Sun 11:00 AM – The Pen vs. the Sword

Sun 01:00 PM – Don’t Dumb it Down: Writing for Young Adults

This is the busiest con schedule I’ve ever had. I hope that by the end, I’m still capable of saying interesting things.

I promised you a goodie . . . .

So the auction (which has raised over forty-three thousand dollars, at last count — good god!) included an offer from the inestimable yhlee: an original music composition, to a prompt of the buyer’s choosing.

I jumped on the “Buy It Now” price like a rabid weasel three minutes after the auction opened, and chose as my prompt . . . the Onyx Court series.

That’s right: my books now have a theme song.

Want to hear it? You can download the recording from my website. (Right-click and save, natch.) If you would like to hear the early draft, that’s available, too. Share as you please; just make sure to credit Yoon Ha Lee as the composer and artist, and my series as the inspiration.

***

This seems as good a time as any to mention my policy regarding fan work. It hasn’t really come up yet, but someday it might, so for future reference, here’s my stance.

If you want to compose your own music, or draw some art, or write a story, or whatever, based on Midnight Never Come or anything else of mine, then so long as you aren’t using it for commercial purposes or trying to lay claim to the original work itself, I say have fun.

If commercial profit comes into the picture (you’re a musician who wants to record the song on your next album) or you might be stepping on the toes of a right reserved in my contract (a student film), then please contact me so we can work something out. Even if what we work out is just a thumbs-up to whatever you had in mind in exchange for a link to my site, it’s better to make that clear. I’m unlikely to object or to charge you some exorbitant fee. (Unless you’re a major Hollywood studio, in which case I’m getting a media agent and instructing that person to take you for all they can. (I should be so lucky.))

In the case of things like music and visual art, I’d be flattered if you let me know this is happening. If it’s fanfic, I’m unlikely to read the work in question; legal twitchery aside (what if you write something and then someday I use a similar idea?), it would probably just hurt my brain to see other people’s takes on my characters. But I do believe that fan work is a sign that readers are engaged with the story, so I don’t mind people playing around with my ideas. If you feel so inspired, then by all means, go right ahead.