July 3/750 words
I have 750 words to report from Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
I had this little incident with the plate glass window at my brother's house. Nothing broke (including the window) but I took it easy until the swelling on my face went down and the pain subsided. :P
So I have another 750 words to rassle up for tomorrow to even up. And maybe even finish this story! Who knows?
(Not me. This story's not talking. Not that they ever do, but I always have hope.)
July 4/750 words
Mom is gone, I am not glued into the car for hours each day, and life has returned to normal.
So, yeah. That means I can hear the kitchen's siren song.
Or maybe that's a threat.
Harley spent the day barking at odd corners in my office and the kitchen right next door. I'm hoping that doesn't mean visiting wildlife, but it's summer. Could be. But it's not the ants.
In non-writing progress, the week has been about family, dead members in particular, so that leads to genealogy on the web. To my stunned surprise (and amazement) Denmark managed to get a few more pertinent data files onto the web, so I found my great-aunt and uncle's christenings in the local church records, and not satisfied with that, located my great-great-grandfather's birth records in Mern. This was a MAJOR coup. We knew very little of that grandpa except that he'd come from Vordingborg. Mom is thrilled and determined to conquer the Internets in search of more family. (This from a woman who is almost quite convinced that pushing a button will kill the computer. It'll be a while until she's out there conquering stuff. So for the moment, the Intrawebs are still safe.)
The writing is progressing, although I'm behind two days. This was due to an unforeseeable run-in with a sliding glass door. The door won. I had a fat lip and a good smack on the bridge of my nose. Today is the first day where nothing hurts and I can eat or wrinkle my nose normally, and nothing feels as though it will fall off.
To my horror, of course, this event occurred before people I'd just been introduced to, so, yes, I made an impact. Of sorts.
One of the guys at the party did mention that he'd heard of me from my brother, and when he confirmed that my brother had been talking about me, I told him to remember that I was the good sister. No matter what my other sisters said. And that Grandma always liked me best. (A quote from the sister three years behind me. Of course, she would be the evil one.)
So it's back to the grind on the writing today, trying to figure out what is stronger than time. Currently, I'm tending towards chaos, because time organizes chaos, but that's as close as I've gotten.
This story has got to be done by the end of the week. They can't outrun chaos (or whatever I land on) forever.
There's only so much suspense I can write before I want to hit the characters in question and trample them. So yeah, surrounded by metal, attempting to outrun a magical lightning storm, with Pia behind Kip now that she had to retrieve the runaway clockwork.
She's not pissed enough, and she hasn't caught up to Kip, so how's it going to spill over? And why the heck didn't Kip stop and help her? (Yeah, well, he's more wanted by her uncle than she is. Minor detail. And he's not a hero. Never has been or he wouldn't have been hiding in a forest that Time forgot.)
God deliver me from these stupid stories and fumbling to decide what the hell I'm really trying to say.
July 5/250 words
*insert a lot of self-satisfaction right here*
I am officially Caught Up on my word count and moving on. In addition, I've resolved some of the questions about the ending... like the hows. What I landed on, mandelbugs and heidelbugs and schroedinbugs, are the perfect denoument. This did entail turning one of my characters into clockwork, an unexpected outcome, but one which will work nicely.
All my previous research went down the drain when I realized I'd conflated Chronos with Cronus.
Damn those Greeks. Can't they differentiate those names a little better than that?
So, there's already rewriting to set up this particular ending, but when I write -30- later this evening, I'm pulling out something else.
No, I don't quite know what that might be. Yet. Pondering is on the agenda.
July 7/500 words
Done. I have achieved story. Sucky-and-in-need-of-work story, but a story nevertheless.
Plus, I am totally in love with my little clockwork insects and their tie-in to mandelbugs, heidelbugs, and schröedinbugs. That is my inner geek right there. Who else would be so thrilled to drag computer bugs into a pre-computer environment?
So! I am laying this entomophobic's worst nightmare to rest and choosing something else for today. No, I don't know what that is. I'll figure it out later.
I've also achieved tub, which took some doing, let me tell you. No matter how much research one does on whirlpool tubs online, it all comes down to does anyone have the one I want so I can stick the Spousling in it to make sure he fits? Well, the manufacturer's response was: how close are you to Martinez?
Not. Close. Enough.
So, we found something else we liked, and that's what we ordered.
Did I mention they're arriving on Monday to do demolition? *shudders*
After the quick housecleaning downstairs (the Spousling invited guests for dinner, so cleaning is a Must) I will be removing everything from cabinets and countertop and pack them away. And the clothes from the closet that I'd prefer to wear plaster-dust free.
In other news, the car is in the shop for maintenance stuff mostly, but there's this shimmy when I break, so I sure hope they figure out what's causing that.
And, in my singing life, I have officially lost the break between head voice and chest voice. I have been working towards this feat since December, 2005 when I first began voice lessons. At that point, we deconstructed my entire vocal production and have slowly put it back together over the year-and-a-half.
It has been worth every single penny and minute.
Basically, a lot of success this week, and only negated by the prospect of having my master bath completely destroyed.
*reminds self to take before photos*
July 9/1000 words
Yes, I've been quiet. There was major cleaning for a smallish dinner party on Saturday, more cleaning and emptying of bathroom counters (ohmygod, our bedroom exploded! Send rental closets!) on Sunday, and today was bathroom demolition day, including the removal of a short wall and holes punched in wall and ceiling to move a a/c duct. It is a very large space and very very bare. The only major disaster was the broken main water pipe, which is now, thankfully, repaired. I had not planned for a waterless day.
In spite of all this, I did manage to eke out words... 1000 of them! On a new story optimistically titled "Paint, Skin, Mask." (I say optimistically because all I've talked about so far are the darn masks, but when an appropriate title flings itself under my feet, who am I to cavil?)
So, I'm happy. :)
And concerned.
Because I don't have much of a plot yet (young, plucky innocent thrown into Court when father dies and hijinks ensue—don't ask me what those are) combined with a study of a society separated into classes by masks, paint, and skin. And what that says about identity.
Okay, so that's the goal. With any luck, maybe I'll even get there.
Even with all the banging and pounding upstairs.
July 11/2500 words
Spoilers follow for Ilario: The Lion's Eye by Mary Gentle.
It's far earlier than I would like to be conscious, but the remodeling guys should be here soon. So I have a load of towels in the washing machine, a pot of coffee brewed, and I'm paying no attention to the school mess behind my back on the floor.
Guess what I'm doing today.
The bathroom has a new a/c duct and it's been moved to the other side of the space. Today they should be building the box for the tub, and then... well, I don't know for certain. I will have to paint soon, because these guys don't. I need a floor tile and a background tile so I can run to Home Depot and nail the color. I may be painting myself, and let's just say, I don't do it enough to be comfortable—or to know where everything is in the garage. So yeah. Thank heavens it's a small space.
Progress last night included 250 words. I introduced the politics of the place somewhat, and now I'm having second thoughts. Surely someone who's dragging a newcomer into a conspiracy should be sneakier about it and not nearly so direct. Won't that get him killed? So these words may very well get dumped or embellished upon. And then I was falling asleep, so I was in bed shortly thereafter. (5A wakeup calls will do that for you.)
I'm still feeling as though someone hit me in the head with a sand-filled sock. Over and over and over.
To my horror last night, I reached the end of the Mary Gentle book only to find the last page contained the on-going murder of the protag. Although no sound passed my lips, I was screaming internally and pissed as all hell, although I knew he/she couldn't die—not if there was a sequel, and there was. The infant Ilario/a had just given birth to would never be an acceptable substitute.
So I turned the page. And thank GOD, the first page of the following novel begins with how she fights off her attacker.
And that was just enough to forgive the publishers.
But it does mean I must rush out and get the next novel. Which won't be out for two more freaking months.
There's a reason why I'm slow on my series reading. Like the desire to have all of the individual books written and published, so I can read the damn things at will.
There's a library trip in my future this morning: I'm all out of novels.
But until then, I'm working here. Foo. It's foggy and dark here, and perfect for reading. Or snoozing, but I don't think I'll manage that after the hammers start.
July 12/350 words
The drywallers have come and gone. They'll be back. The electricians arrived, turned off all the electricity in the rooms I most needed it on, and finished up their gig. Two guys are still upstairs hammering on the frame for the tub.
I guess it's not over yet.
However, another scene finished last night with another 350 words. It's amazing what I'll do knowing that someone else is donating money in my name. My gosh—I've got to come through.
And with this scene finished, I realized that I have trouble with the middles on a micro level: yes, even in scenes. It's not just novels, like I'd like to believe.
So the middle is pretty sucky because I come right out and say what should be hinted, and hint the stuff that should be said. Oh, there's going to be lots of tweaking on this scene. Believe me. But it's all in the middle, because I'm happy more or less with the beginning and the end.
Next up—a reversal! Yes, because she's damned grateful to be back in that ballroom and away from the guy who plagued her, so... yes. There's going to be ugly in the ballroom, too. I just don't know what.
Minor details.
I'm also noticing that 250 words is pretty damn easy to tear out of me. I'm not quite willing to raise the limit, because there are times when 250 words shreds whatever brain I have. But I'm thinking I could push myself for another ten minutes on the good nights, and see what I end up with. The extra 100 words last night was nothing.
In addition to the chaos upstairs and wordcount downstairs, I've begun the kindergarten prep. So far, three different kinds of teddy bears are cut, faces drawn where appropriate, and ready. I have the basics of the Clifford hats and spent time this morning mentally cursing myself for not having remembered to bring white and black paper home. I have the pieces for the triangle man, the square page, and the yellow stars for the I can read books.
However, I cannot remember why I brought home orange, purple, and blue paper when I didn't bring home any patterns. What the hell did I need those colors for?
Business as usual.
I am a teacher of very little brain.
Oh, fine. Person. Because that little brain business pretty much covers my entire life.
July 16/350 words
ETA:
Quelle horreur!
While minding my own business washing the dinner dishes, to my horror and dismay, I realized that I had been hoodwinked! And by none other than this latest work, and the enticement that—really, cross its cheating heart, would it ever lie to me?—it was a short story.
No.
The damn thing's a novel.
If I had wanted to write a novel, I would have pulled out the 38K one I've got.
There will be a longish pause tonight while I attempt to find wring something of short story length out of these characters and this world. If nothing occurs to me by tomorrow, I will turn to the novel in hand and make up the word count then.
Stupid lying fiction.
Note: Send massive quantities of chocolate.
July 17/0 words
******************
Fresh-baked scones. Yum.
But no one's shown up yet to work upstairs, and the drywall guys never did make it here at all on Friday. Another hour and then I call our project manager to see what's up. I'm not going to stay glued to the house like I did on Friday, thinking they'd arrive the second I left.
The latest story's progressing. The second I figure out what it's supposed to be about, things will become much easier. I wrote and inserted an entirely new scene to stuff in just before the last, but I have barely introduced the fantastic element, and I have no idea what it does, other than provide protection somehow.
And characters! I have characters barreling out of my margins. One character is only there to introduce the protag to other characters, and what the hell for, I want to know.
Today it's all about motivations. I know what the protag wants—just to go home and stop all this wastefulness of time at Court.
But the rest? Which of them are spilling their guts?
None. Naturally.
So, cranky.
But pathetically grateful to the peoples in chat who, when I demanded poking, provided it with pointy sticks and cattle prods. (Beware of Jodi when she's got license to poke. That's all I'm saying. She has a flamethrower in that closet of hers, too.)
When I wasn't writing or driving the Slug places (when we had mutual need of the car, and I win! I win! except when it comes down to the fact that I must drive her wherever she must go first) and housework, there was html and Photoshop and a brand new look. The last one was okay, but not my taste, and I had a vague sense I should like it more than I do. The current version makes me happy. There will be more html and Photoshop in my future, and I'm not just saying that because August is around the corner and I have to throw a new issue together.
The Spousling's decided to stay at camp for another week. While he's gone, my main goal is to keep the pool blue, versus, say, green, and I've been winning at that. But the grass is beginning to bug me, so I may be taking on a lawnmower. Which, by the way, I don't know how to start. Other than whirling blades always terrify me, even when housed in an innocuous exterior.
I simply have this sense that this particular inanimate object wants my fingers. All of them.
But first, I'm off to wrestle the pool into submission—"Stand back! I have chlorine and I'm not afraid to use it!"
I have almost, almost! recovered from the shock of discovering my traitorous WIP turned feral novel on me.
That does not mean I have a story plot, naturally. But when in doubt, I turn to fairy tale structure, and see where I can go from there.
And that means, paring the number of characters down to three or four. Wolf and three pigs. Goldilocks and three bears. Cinderella, stepsisters and stepmother, throw in a prince for good measure. Even Little Red Riding Hood has a supporting cast of three (mother, grandmother, woodsman) if you look past the fox and the protag.
Okay, I can do that. And best to randomly select those characters, I think, rather than pick and choose. So, they'll all go into a hat. I'm hoping the unlikely combinations will bring surprises rather than not.
I have a magical element. I just have to decide what it actually does, and perhaps it's got to be something that allows the holder to see beyond the masks these characters wear. Which of course, would be awful in the hands of the wrong person, because the masks are all about protecting one's self from casual observers knowing who you are—both in terms of identity and character.
I went into chat to complain last night, only to be told by Jodi that I could not possibly have written a novel in two weeks, because after all, her best time for a novel had been three weeks and two days. And Leah remembered a 20K day.
If I'd had dentures, I would have swallowed them.
I have astonishing friends in chat.
The drywallers came, drywalled, and things look more like a real room there, and less of one that's been through wars.
I have no idea who shows up today. I guess I'll find out, but I'll call if I don't see anyone in the next hour or so.
Finally, it's our 31st anniversary today, and where's my husband?
That's right. Up at camp. With the two children who are running two separate parts of it, and a third one who is chomping at the bit to get back after summer school finishes up. Obviously, I went wrong somewhere.
But I think celebrating my anniversary alone means I get chocolate.
Woot!
July 18/500 words
Abandon what I'd written, replot the damn thing, trimming it into something short-storyish, begin rewrite.
Five hundred words removed individually via sharp, pointy awl, and I have a beginning that sucks. It's not alive like the other was, I don't like the personality of this version of the character, and I've decided upon a merge of plot and original. That means I can keep most of my original first scene, add in new bits to the background, and proceed onward, maybe even using some of what's been written.
It might work, although I'm thinking trepanning might get more words on the page.
The Slug and I learned the intricacies of the lawnmower this morning, enough to get the lawn chopped to an acceptable level. I'm hoping we can remember it all if we have to do it again before the Spousling returns. The pool's brushed and vacuumed and chlorinated, and now there should be housework, but guess what?
I'm freaking tired.
Luckily, I brought home more stuff to prep from school, so I have back up—stuff to do while sitting on my rear, and if nothing else, I might be able to prime the critical bathroom walls this afternoon.
No, I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but it's only paint and the worst that could happen is that the Spousling would have to redo it.
I'm hoping they're done up there in the next couple of hours. So far they've built the box for the tub, and they're working on the bench in the shower area. They did say they'd cut a channel in the floor so that the plumbing could be installed, so maybe that's tomorrow. But I'd love to be able to primer *and* throw a couple of coats of paint on two walls before bed. I'd prefer not to paint over the brand new cabinets or while standing in the tub. So it's only two walls (although one of them in 12ft. long).
Oh, and there's one more thing on my list for today and tomorrow: getting a few stories in circulation. Again.
Under the title of excellent news, there's a new little Sisolak, Katherine Ann (Katie) born yesterday (well, I'll be able to remember THIS one's birthday, I suppose) at 7lbs 14 oz, 20 inches long. No photos yet. Sadly she's in Colorado, which means I could very easily not see her until she's walking. Still, new babies are all the good!
Finally, there's a distinct need for coffee. I'm in need of perking now that I've used all my oomph to enthuse about Katie.
July 19/250 words
Do over.
First scene? No problem. Hint a few new things based on what I'd arrived at in the newer version. Make her stronger and more independent. Done!
Second scene. Waffle over keeping the introduction to the Prince in, finally end up with the stupid thing in, although I don't believe he fits in this story at all. Fine. I'll eradicate him later. But then I need something else to happen before she's abandoned and... no! She's abandoned right there as they hit the ballroom floor and she realizes the immensity of the problem.
Third scene. Well, she's currently trapped on the dance floor with an overconfident gentleman she considers less a gentleman than he does. What's worse than one overconfident gentleman? Two!
And they both wants what she's got in her pocket, preciouses.
No, I don't know how they both know it's there, and I don't know what it does. Yet.
Stupid magical baubles.
But I'll get a little further this afternoon/evening, because tonight is choir practice. Should we have it.
Yesterday, the bathroom guys built the box for the tub and the bench in the shower. Suddenly, there's a lot less open space. There are also holes in the floor (thoughtfully covered by plywood, but still) and the plumber is next. I also have a toilet, two sinks, and all of our fixtures in the Spousling's closet.
I was not expecting all those, mind you, but fine. They're here and out of the way.
Today's more about cleaning inside. The pool looks okay and I can get away with a light vacuuming later. I have lavender to whack down to not much so I can reshape these bushes grown far out of control.
And there's more coffee. Thank heavens.
In other news, I'm almost over my Disney pique of last night. Go me.
Here begins the bitterness.
ETA: Oh, maybe it's NOT Cinderella. Just Random Fairytale Princess™.
Remember: there are no new ideas under the sun.
*remembers, remembers, remembers*
Yet it's rather startling to see one of your own ideas (anyone remember my Ellie story—After Ever After—from oh, hrm. Umpteen years ago? Oooh, the last time I opened this puppy was 3/03. It's been a while.)
Okay. Enchanted.
Cinderella dumped into modern day reality. Check.
New York City vs. Hollywood. (Close enough.)
Dodging traffic, including a taxi, even though it's the Prince rather than Ellie. Check.
I rather doubt that Disney threw in prostitutes and a pimp, though.
Still, I think it's safe to say that I'll never get mine published no matter how much rewriting/polishing I attempt. (Well, short of making the protag Not Cinderella and there goes the shoe symbolism I used throughout.)
Hrmph.
July 20/250 words
A solid three hours writing last night. Now you'd think I'd have more than 250 words to add to the tally for that, but no. I rewrote an entire story so I could send something out.
The good news is that I chiseled over four pages off of the total, before I added the new words.
It'll go out as soon as I nail the ending completely. It's close, I'd say, but not absolutely nailed.
The good thing about setting something aside for nine months or so is the clarity you get when you look back. Yeah, it's still your fiction, but the words are less precious and easier to kill.
I chopped half a scene, added on the other half to the first. I have to go back this morning and make sure it's smooth and ramps up the action the way I think.
So, lots to do (the Spousling is home to paint this weekend! Yay! I could do it, but I don't know where all the tools are, nor are they collected into one box to make them easy to acquire. My solution would be to buy all new stuff. The Spousling, I swear, shuddered when I told him that.) and not much time to accomplish everything.
Camp has had a number of medical emergencies this year already. I've lost count of the ambulance calls, and yeah, some of them have been related to dehydration (and those were staff members, I think), but throw in the possible heart attack and my favorite: the concussion. Acquired by one of the parents when he took on a game of volleyball in a rocky, rough field on an overnight. Yes, the rocks played an important role.
The plumbers (two! yay!) are here and my water is already off. Luckily I got enough warning to fill the drinking vats.
Minor glitches thus far, the hand held shower for the tub deck is the wrong color. Whoops. Back that goes. Some of the tiles were the wrong color, but those should be in today and thank heavens. I'll pick paint. I'm down to two colors: lighter and a hint more green or slightly darker and a hint more blue. The other colors should push me over into a decision because I've been pulling from the decorative tile, which isn't going to be a huge amount visually when I've got a single stripe of the stuff.
So, onward. The pool. The bathrooms (once I have water again). And assorted trips out, like the one to the library.
July 21/250 words
In celebration of the new HP book, I tried something novel.
I read an entirely different book.
So far, so good. I had a difficult time putting Fire Magic down.
In other news the Spousling did not arrive home last night. No, the kid who was supposed to squeeze him in the car, left without him.
I could smack him.
So the Spousling will be home later this afternoon, and painting will commence. I'm actually planning now to buy the damn primer and paint before he gets home just to save time. And who the hell cares about the damn tiles that so I can make sure the colors blend? I'll make do. Trust me.
More tweaking last night on that rusalka rewrite, with the end result being additional wordcount. Fine. It's still shorter than it was, and better yet, short story length rather than a hair or two over.
Plus, I changed the title. Witness, Warrior had such a nice strong flavor but this morning I'm having my doubts. Janka isn't really a warrior. Not really. She's a teenager, mostly.
And then I sent it out to Baen's Universe. Fly little story, fly.
(We'll see how it does. I'm thinking I need to tighten the beginning until it screams, so I can get the reader to the murder faster.)
It's been a while since I had something out in limbo. So yeah. About time, too.
Today's goals, other than the painting, are to find another story to rewrite and add some words to the one I have in progress.
The best plans are made by writers.
Translation: Don't hold your breath.
Spoiler link ahead!
And for those of you who rely on daily snark to keep you afloat, a lovely snarky recap of the latest HP book.
If you want to read HP7 unspoiled, do not click that link right now. Wait until you finish the book.
July 22/250 words
Another 500 words, another story chopped to hell and rebuilt.
This one a very different chopping and rebuild than the other. For those of you who remember "Patchwork Girl", the last time it was out (um... yeah. Fall of 2005. Eesh.) it garnered a semifinalist at WoTF and a crit from K.D. Wentworth.
Now the interesting this about crits is that there's always something you can take away, although it may not be exactly what the critter intends or decides is wrong. And for this one, she wanted more of a character arc and an ending that felt as though the character had changed during the story. She thought it needed a new ending.
I felt the ending was exactly what I wanted.
I've seen/heard people walk away from a crit that seems off and sometimes complain bitterly about how the reader didn't get it.
Hrm. That's not it either.
I read between the lines.
She wanted a character arc. That was basically it. An arc. What can I change to make an arc?
Oh! She has to choose between trying again with her ex-lover and father of her child or not. The ending is already written that she won't, and I'm keeping that. So every single place I made her strong in her desire to avoid him, I had to change. She's on a wire now (which sort of goes with her career as a trapeze artist) and more tempted by Jirin.
With additional angst over the decision because now she has a daughter and she's a bio-mechanic construct in a narrow-viewed society that regards her as an outcast.
If his family didn't like her then, what the heck are they going to think of her now?
So... it's fixed. I think. I have to deal with minor points and reread the entire thing to do that, and maybe shave off 500 words. I have to fix the last line. But I think it's done.
This is a damn good story. I don't know why I can't keep stuff floating out the door as soon as it bounces back.
As to the painting... well. We've got one primer coat, two ceiling coats in a buttery cream color the rocks, and one coat of a muted shade of blue-green that I adore. The edges between ceiling and wall (my responsiblity) are decent but not perfect, and that pisses me off. My straight lines should be perfect, dammit. And we are both crossing our fingers that this shade goes with the floor and shower tiles, because I never got the damn tiles to take with me when I bought the paint.
So, there's another coat of paint in the future, some touchups on the edges, and I swear I'm finding something better than a regular paintbrush to deal with the ceiling lines. I don't know what that is, of course, but I will research it.
Moral: Never use two high-contrast paints on walls where the joins are 90° angles.
Why should you suffer like me?
July 24/250 words
Today, in no particular order:
The oak cabinets are in, huzzah!
I stepped in dog shit while avoiding another little pile.
My camera, my little Minolta that I dearly love, will be winging its way back to Sony for a recall issue. I miss it dreadfully and it hasn't even made it out of the car yet.
The Spousling abandoned me for his new love: camp.
I LOVE the bathroom so far. Did I mention that?
The rug demanded spot cleaning. See the second entry for an explanation. Damn phone calls.
I will spend more money this morning on school supplies. With any luck, we'll be floating in crayons.
I am behind 250 words.
I got hold of the sample board with the wall tile on it. I put that up against the newly painted wall, set the 3" decorative tile up next to it, along with the 1" square print of our countertop material. I stood back a couple of feet and squinted. Damn, I'm good at pulling colors.
Last night, I squeezed "Patchwork Girl" until it screamed. I got it down to 4900, which meant it went to the market I wanted to send it to next. It's better and we'll see if that made any difference.
I will have to write 500 words today. I am returning to the half-written new story.
New Rule: Don't go out to the garden without glasses and shoes on.
The counters go in today!
Can I go back to sleep yet? The dog is snoring, why can't I?
July 25/500 words
It's amazing what six weeks of consistent effort will get you.
*points to the totals on the right*
That's right! I've added 13K since the end of May.
I'm not quite done. I have tonight, and technically tomorrow, too. And then I cough up my matching donation to Clarion West, (and it's not too late to donate! It's for a great cause and they're a 501(c)(3) organization.) and publish that slush fairy tiara photo. (As yet non-existent, but the Slug has a camera. It'll be up this weekend, and I await the snarky commentary.)
I was invaded last night. By ants.
I've been wondering when the next one would be because it's been forever since the last one.
Well, wait no longer.
An entire nest moved in over night, making certain the queen had her special spot. Under a damn dishtowel on the counter. First a mop up, after the initial shrieks, and then a trip to OSH because I couldn't find any ant poison in the garage. While spraying, I discovered that this crowd was marching ten feet to get here, from the garden bed on over. The trail this morning was half an inch wide. I imagine it was an inch wide in the wee hours of the morning, based on the number of ants on the counters.
In my list of things to accomplish by the weekend, which includes running over to school and dropping what I've already prepped off and picking up more to do, and painting the Spousling's closet, I've got to learn style sheets.
How hard can that be?
No mail from the nomailman. I'm a little suspicious that neither story has bounced so far. To keep myself from chewing on that info, I'm investigating markets for Paper Crane again. It's been to these markets: F&SF
Alchemy, SciFi.com, Strange Horizons, Argosy, Realms of Fantasy, Cicada, LCRW, Glimmer Train, Fantasy Magazine, Clarkesworld, and Intergalactic Medicine Show. Apparently I've written myself into one of those no appropriate market niches. As soon as Cabinet des Fèes reopens, it's going there. If I were in this for the money, I wouldn't be publishing my own magazine, now would I???
I've already seen the difference between the new bath and the rest of the house, even though it's not nearly finished. The rest of the house loses, just so's you know. I'm ready to shovel everything out the door because we have too darn much stuff. Period.
Our bedroom's getting finished first, although I may patch some of the kitchen grout in bits and pieces along the way.
*sigh*
And now to work. Bleh.
July 28/500 words
Done.
Another 500 words on the pile, and that means I managed 3K over my goal for the last six weeks.
So yes, supporters! It's time to cough up the money if you haven't done so already.
Now my goal is to keep the pattern up. Let's see... 250 x 365= 91,250. *blinks*
My god. That's a novel!
*shudders*
So, yeah... continue the pattern. On whatever I've got in stock or *gulp* the novel.
But for the moment, it's about painting.
Just a closet, thankfully, but the humidity here is supposedly at 89%. Ugh. I'm starting as soon as I finish this and shut up the house to start the A/C. There is no ventilation in that room, and even turning on the A/C isn't going to get it really cool. The only thing I can do is to get it painting before it warms up.
I'm rather dreading this.
But hey. It'll be done and all over with, and tomorrow I can move back to focusing on school. At least the classroom rug's been cleaned. Which I discovered on Thursday when I ran over to do some actual work.
But nooooooooooo. There was no way to get into the closets because all the furniture had been moved. The only thing I could was—you guessed it!—run to Lakeshore and spend more money. And laminate! 37+ feet of lamination.
I never do anything by halves.
The other thing on the agenda is the photo shoot. Yes... the Slug will have the privilege of taking the tiara photo. I will try not to wince, but darn those teeth are long when you don't have enough hair to grip onto, and the little teeth dig into your scalp.
But I highly recommend it! Everyone should be a slush fairy at least once!
No, no. Don't overwhelm with offers. Get in line and you'll each have a turn.
No arguing, either!
So! *she chirps, eyeing her audience* Who's first?
