So I was happily barreling along, assuming I didn’t need to write anything. I just finished a massive novel! I have a few shorts in edits, and a few cooking! Sure, Meghan got me back the awesome edits on The Resurrectionists with head-spinning alacrity– but hey, I need at least another two or three months of distance before I can be trusted to properly tear it down and build it back up. I couldn’t possibly write anything just now!

And then I started writing another book.

I have no idea how this happens, but I like it, so I don’t care. Seems like a good way to ring in the New Year, right? Especially since I only wrote one novel last year, which is an unheard-of amount of slackage from me. Unacceptable!

Anyhow, I’m doing a weird fantasy/clockpunk hybrid thing called The Company of St. Rage about a company of mercenaries who are hired by a hapless, way too young king. There are vague prophecies, magic that’s really just madness, and possibly the end of the world involved.

Yeah, I don’t know either. I’ve learned not to argue with the voices.

But since it’s Wednesday, here’s a little something. Ilidh Bannon, mercenary captain, and two of her lieutenants, Elanzah and Cami, discussing their new client. It all begins with Cami declaring:

“King Osgar Fearghan III is a cock.”

“I don’t know, I think I like him.” This from Elan, who was all innocence, kicking his feet in the air like a bored child. “So he looked at your rack. Gods, Cam, I look at your rack. It’s amazing.”

She spun on him. “I was talking about his people dying right and left of dysentery, and he was staring at my tits.”

Elan’s pretty little lips quivered.

Cami saw red. “Jealous?”

Elan laughed.

She was about to punch him in the neck, but Ilidh’s grunt caught her attention. “Would you two shut the hell up and help me? Felix strapped me in wrong, that bastard–”

Cami immediately attended to her captain’s too-tight straps. But she couldn’t resist one last, “I knew you had a hard on for the King.”

“I’d fuck him, but–”

“Who wouldn’t you fuck?”

“That’s just my point. See, you’re weakening your own argument–”

“Oh, fuck you, Elanzah–”

But Ilidh interrupted with, “I swear by all the Fearghan frozen hells, I will kill you both if you don’t stop. And no one’s fucking the King– not unless he’s paying for that, too. And if he is, you’d better get top dollar. Understood?”

One last cruel look between them, and Elan and Cami answered in unison, defeated: “Understood.”

I chose that bit because, as you can see, it illustrates why all my first drafts have to be edited extensively for overuse of the f-word. You’d think with all the crap I read, I’d have a way better vocabulary, really.

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Now playing: The Verve – Stormy Clouds
via FoxyTunes

Hope that holiday went well, and that your preparations for the New Year go speedily. And involve good champagne. Because if there is one thing it’s never worth it to skimp on, it’s the champagne. That’s asking for a world of hurt.

It was awesome at our house, but I’m glad it’s over for one simple reason: I am so happy to be free of those endless cockbag jewelry ads. Not just jewelry, but diamonds. I’ll put my issues with exploitation and other non-ethical business practice to one side here and stick to my other concerns– that’s another rant, and not for this blog. But seriously, those ads make everyone look bad. Apparently women are shallow spoiled whores, so the only way to show them you love them is to lay out money on an ugly, overpriced rock. And men are big dumb idiots, which is why they have no other recourse, and must prove their affection with such empty gestures as handing over loot and protecting women from thunderstorms. (Because women are afraid of thunderstorms. Like puppies, really. Don’t worry ladies, he’s right here.)

Grah!!

Okay, I realize that all advertising goes back to sex and how to get it, but could they at least mask it a little? That crap is blatant. I vow to fight this Evil Power with every story in me! And I’m not alone!

Now on to something positive: Sherlock Holmes was awesome. The theater was sold out like two hours in advance, but we got in and got good seats, and my fanboy of a husband was satisfied. I’d say more, but I pretty much agree word for word with Adam Blomquist.

Well, I haven’t seen Avatar yet. But really, I’m not in a huge hurry for yet another “What These People Need Is a Honkey” flick. Not that I have a problem with plot recycling, and the aliens are pretty, but you know. It’ll keep.

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Now playing: Johannes Brahms – 7 Fantasien, Op. 116: IV. Intermezzo – Adagio
via FoxyTunes

This holiday season, please remember:

Now that that’s out of the way, Merry Christmas, if you’re into that! I’m into it in a kind of vague and undirected way, but into it nevertheless. Tonight, I make my Awesome Christmas Chili and we open presents. (He already got his iPhone though, so I doubt anything else will make an impression. I have to say his name 10 times before he notices I’m talking to him. Good thing it’s adorable.) Tomorrow…

Sherlock. Holmes.

Yay!

Have a good one, y’all.

Everyone in the south-east had their adventures this weekend, I’m sure. Mine were awfully funny, and I do mean awful. As you may or may not know, any time it snows below the Mason-Dixon line (at least, in places where there aren’t loads of mountains) people freak the f#%k out. The department of transportation, no matter which state you call home, will inevitably do nothing until there’s a foot of snow on the highway– which of course they knew was coming, but did nothing to prepare for. At the 1 foot mark, they’ll issue a statement saying that they’re waiting until it stops snowing to do anything, and you shouldn’t leave your house.

Smart!

Except that my husband and one of his classmates were on their way up from Duke University. Normally this is a 5 hour drive, in bad traffic. Saturday, it took about 15. I know, I know, they ought not to have left in the first place, but they did, and it would’ve been all right if they hadn’t been stuck in a traffic jam on I-95. By the time they got to Arlington, it was 2am, and here’s 5-foot-nothing me digging my truck out from  under2 feet of snow, which looked like an igloo by this time. I braved the completely unplowed, unsalted back streets with my 4wd, thanking all the gods I was raised in the mountains… and okay, having a lot of fun. I rescued my husband in the Chipotle parking lot, since his friend’s car couldn’t leave the main highway– which was sorta kinda clean.

White knight. Yeah.

Days like that are the only reason I haven’t yet run out of ideas*. It’s true what they say, bad things don’t happen to writers, ideas happen. Two dudes trapped in a car for 15 hours having to piss on the side of the road (or in bottles. Not that they did that. Er). Deserted city with snow drifts on the road at the witching hour.

Hey, I never said they were good ideas, just ideas. Mwahaha!

But man, life gets surreal sometimes. I live a quarter of a mile from Washington, DC and it suddenly turned into Barrow, Alaska. (Minus the vampires… mostly.)

Happy Solstice/Yule!

*That knocking was me. On wood. Oh hell, I’m sure I just jinxed it.

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Now playing: Super Furry Animals – The Placid Casual
via FoxyTunes

So once a year I seem to flake out on my online recs– this month was it for me– or rather November was, for obvious reasons. Mainly that I wasn’t around.

But! That’s cool, because I didn’t need to this month. Plenty of book recs to go around lately, and I’m rolling in it now. Brilliant. For those of you who are here because you’re my pal, not because you’re part of this little blog circuit, let me suggest you add Aaron Polson’s new review blog project, Skull Salad. A general drive to support small press and everything it represents, starting there, inspired a wave of Best Of lists from many of the talented authors on the sidebar over there. Looking for a good last minute gift for someone, check them out.

To change the subject completely (see, usually when someone says that, they’re not going to change it at all, but I really am!), I think I gave the wrong impression to some people with that last post. A lot of the comments lead me to believe I sounded like I don’t like edits, when in fact I like them so much, particularly when they come from someone who’s not me, I am nearly incapable of bucking them even if they sit wrong. (Which, as I say, has happened maybe twice. Ever. I got second and third opinions, in those cases, before I could figure out what the hell to do– other than just stop writing.) That’s why it was so freaking weird when I came up against a suggestion I genuinely did not know how to implement– but had always known was necessary.

I got there, though. Slowly but surely. And that was kind of my point: I wasn’t ready then, but I figured it out. Sort of. I’m still figuring it out, but I’m way closer than I was two years ago. I should probably be ashamed it took me that long to understand, but really, I’m kind of proud I managed at all. I’m not known for being that quick, see.

Not sure which sentence was misleading, but I think this proves my point: I need an editor at all times. Good god, I make no sense.

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Now playing: The Kinks – The Contenders
via FoxyTunes