matociquala: (rengeek the puppet (poisoninjest))
Blood pressure: 120/80. Still conditionally off the hypertension meds. Something to be said for all this running.

...and staring down the barrel of my first mammogram. *sigh*

I think I like my new doc. (The old doc left to become an obstetrician.) This is my second meeting with her, and she cautioned me about losing too much weight too fast, and setting reasonable lower limits on my caloric intake and weight loss plans. She also told me I was conditionally healthy at my current weight (which is still well into the "obese" range according to the actuarial charts).

So go team her fighting the good fight against societal brainwashing.

Boy, there's nothing like a community healthcare clinic waiting room for comedy gold before breakfast, as a couple of (apparently previously unacquainted) people (apparently now nurturing a budding romantic interest) sitting behind me were discussing--in loud voices, across the entire width of the waiting room--their respective adventures with their parole officers. Now, anybody can end up with a parole officer, through misadventure or the vagaries of the application of the law as mediated through class and race in the USA.

However, if *I* had been busted for DUI while fleeing the scene whereto (reading between the narrative lines in the fashion to which we are trained by Rashomon or perhaps Gene Wolfe) an underaged girl I tried to get drunk and sexually assault had summoned officers of the law, I wouldn't be telling this story in the doctor's office in an attempt to pick up women.

Goals today: Finish that laundry I started yesterday, pay some bills, write at least 8 pages of Shattered Pillars, and go to archery. Oh, and practice my guitar, which I have not touched in a week. And buy almond milk and soluble fiber, because the Discipline hath its demands.

Oh, and start shopping for a dress for the World Fantasy Awards. Which reminds me--here's an open invitation to pimp your favorite corset makers in comments.

Here's the current playlist for Shattered Pillars to start us off. )

Soon it will be cool enough to start using my heating pad again. The longing with which I contemplate this suggests that maybe I should go see my massage therapist soon.

2011 09 01 daily commute
tea today: Upton's domestic peppermint
teacup today: another pretty demitasse from [livejournal.com profile] ctwriter
matociquala: (writing steles burning)
First off, a pending-pub announcement: Joshua Palmatier and Patricia Bray announce the TOC for The Modern Fae's Guide to Surviving Humanity

And then, the big news.

I started writing Shattered Pillars today. I have 1,071 words divided into two scenes done, and I feel pretty good about it.



1071 / 120000 words. 1% done!

Here's the rough draft of the first paragraph, for your delectation:

The desert writhed with poison life. A rustling carpet moved at Edene's feet, stretching to every side. Barbed tails curved over scuttling carapaces patterned sand-colored and stone-colored, glossy and dull, rust and taupe and black and brown.
matociquala: (writing steles burning)
First off, a pending-pub announcement: Joshua Palmatier and Patricia Bray announce the TOC for The Modern Fae's Guide to Surviving Humanity

And then, the big news.

I started writing Shattered Pillars today. I have 1,071 words divided into two scenes done, and I feel pretty good about it.



1071 / 120000 words. 1% done!

Here's the rough draft of the first paragraph, for your delectation:

The desert writhed with poison life. A rustling carpet moved at Edene's feet, stretching to every side. Barbed tails curved over scuttling carapaces patterned sand-colored and stone-colored, glossy and dull, rust and taupe and black and brown.
matociquala: (spies mfu facepalm napoleon)
This day has not, in fact, been one long fezzle from beginning to end. It started off auspiciously, with a good run at dawn, and then a little work, and a really nice paddle of the Mighty Scantic* with The Jeff.

Came back home around 4 and made some late lunch/early dinner and settled in to work the night away. And was doing pretty well--on to page 24 of 42 of "Gods of the Forge"--when my laptop kicked up a BSOD just after I hit save.

I rebooted, and saw those dread words.

NO BOOTABLE DEVICE


Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my hard drive had--this is a technical term now--shit the bed.

I took it out, blew it off, and tried reseating it. No dice. At this point, I did what any writer on a deadline would do when her computer implodes and she's leaving for San Diego in six days.

I called my best friends.

[livejournal.com profile] ashacat and [livejournal.com profile] netcurmudgeon to the rescue. While [livejournal.com profile] netcurmudgeon and I ascertained that there were indeed a whole 17 days left on the laptop's warranty and got Dell to overnight me a new hard drive, [livejournal.com profile] ashacat started feeding me sweet tea and cheese tortillas.

Meanwhile, [livejournal.com profile] netcurmudgeon installed a solid-state drive temporarily in the laptop and slapped a quicky build of Windows up on it, with browser and word processor. So I have a functional if bare-bones machine, and the ranch is saved, and my deadlines have not gotten any more onerous.

And I have just checked and discovered that Drop Box managed to grab that very last save and back it up, so I haven't even lost any work.

ALL HAIL THE CLOUD!

The lessons: the tighter the deadline, the more likely your computer will implode. And also, SESO.

I'm incredibly fortunate, actually--it blew up this week, and not last or next week--and it was still (just barely) under warranty.

This means that the story won't be edited today. But it also means that it will eventually be edited. And before too much longer, too.

Now I just have to download Skype so I can manage to make it to the live Squeecast episode taking place at Convergence tomorrow at 3:30 pm central time (I will be ducking out of a 4th of July party briefly to do it), and then I can go to bed.

Oh, and I have my first ever case of poison ivy, which I suspect I picked up climbing on Wednesday. It's just a slightly uncomfortable half-inch long, hair-thin blister on my right wrist... but sadly, I think it signifies the end of my era of poison ivy immunity.

Well, I guess I needed to reformat that HD anyway....

Also, this was a valuable reminder that my life rocks, and I am surrounded by people who will drop everything to help me when it's necessary.

I am so freaking lucky.




*the Mighty Scantic is really more The Adorable Scantic
matociquala: (criminal minds reid out out)
Ah, revisions.

Looks like I forgot to write this scene.

I have a note here saying what happens in it...

Guess that'll help bring the wordcount up.

Hey, I might get this done by bedtime, if I am stubborn.

And we all know, I'm stubborn.
matociquala: (criminal minds reid out out)
Ah, revisions.

Looks like I forgot to write this scene.

I have a note here saying what happens in it...

Guess that'll help bring the wordcount up.

Hey, I might get this done by bedtime, if I am stubborn.

And we all know, I'm stubborn.
matociquala: (bad girls marlene make my day)
2011 04 22 booksale 003

Dang. Thank you guys very much. That's a lot of mail to be sending.

I think I'm actually going to schlep most of it to the post office now, just so I don't have to do it tomorrow. The overseas stuff I'll do tomorrow, because I can't face customs forms right now. *g*

And then I should probably do some other work, but what I really want to do is bugger off and read a book and watch Wednesday's Mythbusters.
matociquala: (mythbusters adam mayhem)
2011 04 22 booksale 002

Tea today: Queen Mary's strawberry peppercorn
Teacup today: You will get my squid mug when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.

It puts the books in the mailers or it gets the hose again. (Thank you, Office Despot, for delivering mailers to my door at no charge.)

Goals today: Get these things signed and packaged so that I can mail them tomorrow.
Either find some climbing partners or go for a walk.
matociquala: (criminal minds reid airquotes)
[12:47] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: UK/British Isles addresses: too freaking long for American forms.
[12:47] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: *Shares turkey noodle soup*
[12:48] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: I will have to make this for you this summer.
[12:48] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: it came out awesomesocks.
[12:48] [livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb: I suppose it comes of accreting all those historical placenames. :-P
[12:48] [livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb: ooo, soup.
[12:48] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: Fr Serious.
[12:48] [livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb: *will not say no to awesomesocks *
[12:49] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: and it takes 20 minutes
[12:49] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: And is cheap
[12:49] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: I should just post what passes for the recipe.
[12:49] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: But seriously: a house name, a street name, a town, a shire, sometimes a river, a country, and THEN A NATION?
[12:49] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: YOU PEOPLE.
[12:49] [livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb: Hey.
[12:49] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: Put a postal code on it and be done.
[12:50] [livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb: Sometimes there is a bridge and a postcode, too.
[12:52] [livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb: I once lived in a house with a name, a number, a road, a bridge, a town, and a county. And the road was named for the beach.
[12:52] [livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb: I suspect if there'd been a convenient stream, it would have gone on there too - sadly, the local hill was already taken.
[12:52] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: At least we always know where to find you.

As promised: redneck turkey soup deliciousness.

Take a quart of chicken or turkey broth (chicken is actually better, I think) and simmer it with some mushroom stems, thyme, bay leaf, black pepper, and garlic until the smell drives you mad.

Come back. Get some ground turkey (or chicken) and crumble it up and sautee it. You can sautee the mushrooms in here too if you didn't already use them for something else.

Deglaze the sautee pan with some of the broth. Strain the bits out of the remaining broth. Return all of this to the soup pan.

Add frozen green peas and your favorite egg noodles (wide ones are better) in quantity such as to make a hearty meal. Simmer until the peas and noodles are tender.

Eat with much smacking of teeth.
matociquala: (froud magician)
It took me until yesterday (when I was hanging my print, and the crotch was at eye level) to realize that Brian Froud's "The Magician" is a woman in drag. That's kind of awesome, and it reminds me I need to write another Maledysaunte and Riordan story one of these days.... oh, wait, possibly I need to write it right now. Maybe that's the missing plot thread in The Shaded King. (Maybe it's not. I need to think about this some more.)

Well. not right now. Because I need to finish "Underground" first, and working on that is the plan for the day.

I meant to say: [livejournal.com profile] thatpotteryguy sent me an amazing clay bread pan that I will be trying out as soon as the bread situation in the house attrits a little. Right now, because I went on a massive baking spree, we have two kinds of bread and two kinds of muffins. I am currently eating one of the English muffins for breakfast, with the amazing fig jam that [livejournal.com profile] fidelioscabinet's sister  made (I wonder how many fig wasp larvae I'm devouring) and the chana (bengal gram, chick peas, garbanzo beans) that I left in the slow cooker overnight. Spicy! (NB: The correct ratio is ~1 Scotch Bonnet to 1 lb dry chana.)

It's a poser that nutrition tracking software won't accept "a handful" as the proper serving size for raisins. (Which, while I was throwing the ball for the dog this morning, resolved into my head as a series of parrot westerns: A Fistful of Raisins, For a Few Raisins More, and The Good, the Bird, and the Ugly.)

I'm not sure I really believe this cobra is from the Bronx. Not enough F-bombs.

And just think, you chose to read this blog of your own free will.

Aww. And now breakfast is over (sad!). Which means its time to go to work.

Tea today: Upton peach with flowers
Teacup today: Bat country

2011 03 29 daily commute 002 

2011 03 29 daily commute 001

Aw, now there's a sleepy dog head on my foot. How am I supposed to get up and go to work?
matociquala: (tea)
Tea today: Upton Tea's Jasmine with Flowers
Teacup today: Pansy (also with flowers)

2011 03 28 daily commute 002

2011 03 28 daily commute 001Today's thrilling adventure: as much work as possible on the novella formerly known as "Mobius Heart," formerly known as "REZ," formerly known as "In the House of Aryaman, a Signal Lantern Burns," formerly known as "In the House of Aryaman Burns a Signal Lantern," currently known as "In the House of Aryaman, a Lonely Signal Burns."

That may be the actual title.

I'm not sure I've ever had a story put up this much of a fight about a title. I've had them put up a fight about retitling, usually due to editorial/marketing department input. But I'd put up a fight if you tried to change my name, too, so that's perfectly understandible.
matociquala: (twain & tesla)
342 words on The Shaded King. Got my first line. Apparently what I needed was industrial quantities of Emmylou Harris and Mark Knopfler to knock the stuffing out of my head.

Also, I needed to realize that Young Bijou bears a striking resemblance to Young Nnedi Okorafor. Having that in my head, I could suddenly write her.

Alas, of course, I just realized that I was confused, and the novella I need to be writing currently is not this one, but ad eternum. Well, I need to write this one too, but not yet.

Speaking of that first line, here it is:

Shaded King Screencap march 12 2011 001

Quandary: a Western Europe analogue doesn't exist in the Bone and Jewel Creatures / Eternal Sky universe. The peninsula's just not there. Having established that, and having established that by not-1920 there is Parisian-style women's couture, I have to figure out where the center of the fashion industry is.

I'm thinking maybe not-Prague. It's either that or not-Kiev. Oh, I've been needing to name not-Prague for a while, anyway.

Not-Prague it is.

For anyone amused by the nonlinearity of my process, here's another screen cap of the first page of The Shaded King, after some progress.

Shaded King Screencap march 12 2011 002

Notice how I really do not write in order? I know you're supposed to, but the one time I tried to do it, I was a year late delivering the book. Ugly.

While we're on the non-linearity of my process, here's today's paragraph in progress, for those that tune in for such things:

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her--Kaulas the Necromancer,

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her--Kaulas the Necromancer, tall

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her--Kaulas the Necromancer, hollow-cheeked and hook-nosed, raw-boned in his height--

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her--Kaulas the Necromancer, hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her--Kaulas the Necromancer, handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her--Kaulas the Necromancer, handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height; and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. The taller was Kaulas the Necromancer, handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height; and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. The taller was Kaulas the Necromancer, handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height, smoking a thin brown cigarette  and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. Kaulas the Necromancer, handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height, smoking a thin brown cigarette  
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. Kaulas the Necromancer stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette, handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height,  
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. Kaulas the Necromancer stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. 
    handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height,  
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. 
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Every time his long bony hand 
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his long bony hand 
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his skeletal hand
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his long rectangular hand 
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Two men awaited her. Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his long rectangular hand lifted to his mouth, the bones of his wrist pulled free of his shirt-cuff and the sleeve of his tailored suitcoat. 
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Three men awaited her. Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his long rectangular hand lifted to his mouth, the bones of his wrist pulled free of his shirt-cuff and the sleeve of his tailored suitcoat. 
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Three men awaited her.
Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his long rectangular hand lifted to his mouth, the bones of his wrist pulled free of his shirt-cuff and the sleeve of his tailored suitcoat. 
    and Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Three men awaited her.
Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his long rectangular hand lifted to his mouth, the bones of his wrist pulled free of his shirt-cuff and the sleeve of his tailored suitcoat. 
    Beside him stood Prince Salih

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Three men awaited her.
Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his long rectangular hand lifted to his mouth, the bones of his wrist pulled free of his shirt-cuff and the sleeve of his tailored suitcoat. 
    Beside him stood Prince Salih, clothed neck to sandals in a linen dishdasha of equally exquisite

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Three men awaited her.
Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his long rectangular hand lifted to his mouth, the bones of his wrist pulled free of his shirt-cuff and the sleeve of his suitcoat. 
    Beside him stood Prince Salih, clothed neck to sandals in a linen dishdasha of equally exquisite

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Three men awaited her.
Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his long rectangular hand lifted to his mouth, the bones of his wrist pulled free of his shirt-cuff and the sleeve of his suitcoat. 
    Beside him stood Prince Salih, clothed neck to sandals in a linen dishdasha of exquisite cut.

    She let her steps slow so momentum carried her into the room beyond and onto its thick-laid carpets. Three men awaited her.
Kaulas the Necromancer--handsome and hollow-cheeked and pale as mutton-fat, raw-boned in his height--stood against an inlaid cabinet, smoking a thin brown cigarette. Each time his long rectangular hand lifted to his mouth, the bones of his wrist pulled free of his shirt-cuff and the sleeve of his suitcoat. 
    Beside him stood Prince Salih, the Bey's second son, who was clothed neck to sandals in a linen dishdasha of exquisite cut.


What that does not include is the side discussion with my writing buds about how, exactly, Bijou would describe Kaulas's sallow pallor, despite the fact that she thinks he's rather cute. Well, mutton is tasty...

And then I have to work in the impatient photographer and the animated bone and jewel centipede armature.

...and now I have to figure out how to describe the prince beyond his well-cut bathrobe. Suspect that means it's time to start dinner.
matociquala: (ascii frog by Jean Seok)
[23:35] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Somebody just said about the new Conan, "He looks the part, but can he act?"
[23:35] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Um.... it's Conan.
[23:35] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: In fact, if he can act, he might not be believable.
[23:35] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: he has such a great theatrical onus of history upon him, after all
[23:36] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: The Bogey Conan. The Olivier Conan.
[23:36] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: Berhardt's breeches part
[23:37] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Don't forget his classic soliloquy, "What is best in life? To be, or not to be?"
[23:38] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: Is it worth having a glass of wine now?
[23:38] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: I think it is, in honour of Shakespeare's Conan.
[23:39] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: And Dostoevsky's groundbreaking "Conan the Idiot".
[23:39] [livejournal.com profile] tanaise: Have you touched on Kafka's yet?
[23:39] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: The Cimerian colony?
[23:39] [livejournal.com profile] tanaise: about the guy who goes to sleep and wakes up as conan
[23:39] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Oh, that one.
[23:40] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: And let's not forget Kromm Here to Eternity.
[23:41] [livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange: Als Conan der Cimmerian eines Morgens als unrühige Träumen erwachte...
[23:41] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Sir Thomas More: A Conan for All Seasons.
[23:42] [livejournal.com profile] cristalia: Crom and Punishment.
[23:43] [livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange: Old Conan and the Sea
[23:43] [livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange: King Conan and I
[23:43] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Love is the Plan, the Plan is Conan
[23:44] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: Conan-22
[23:44] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Conan of Green Gables
[23:45] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: Crom and Loathing in Las Vegas
[23:47] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: In Cimmerian Wine
[23:48] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Look of Homeward, Conan.
matociquala: (daffodils)

Daily Commute March 2 2011 002

Tea Today: Teavana Gyokuro Imperial. It's reasonably nice--grassy and a little pungent--but I'm really coming to the opinion that Teavana is Marketing 10, Tea 3*. My roomie likes it, though.

OTOH, I also have a chocolate-covered coconut candy from Divine Treasures, which makes up for a lot.

Teacup today: covered cup [livejournal.com profile] thecoughlin brought me from scenic Korea

My goal for this morning is to get some traction on rearranging the front bits of "REZ" into something that will carry the weight of the rest of the novella. I'm still trying to figure out a significant chunk of the plot--the antag's motivation.

No exercise today. Trying to go easy on the last lingering remnants of this cold and a sore deltoid. La.

All right, off to the word mines.


*Oh, about that earworm? Sorry. :-\

matociquala: (criminal minds bad shirt brigade)
I'm trying to decide what kind of bread to make today. I'm thinking whole-wheat sourdough, somehow. Possibly because I am low on bread flour. And my shoggoth can use the exercise. But first, tea and breakfast.

Climbing yesterday; climbing today. I nailed a slopy 5.8+ that has been giving me trouble and I need to go back and do it again. I've been climbing a few grades down from where I was this time last year, because I hurt my rotator cuff and a pulley tendon, so I was rehabbing. And now I have to re-learn everything about balance and grip I've forgotten in the last six months. The good news is, I'm really strong from all the jug-hauling I've been doing (and the yoga, of course). The bad news is, I gained some weight during last year's deadline madness, and I will not be climbing 5.10 or even the hard 5.9s until it comes off again. And it's proving remarkably stubborn. Alas, Discipline. Again.

Got derailed from my planned evening of TV watching by friends, so I mean to make it up today. And alas, the end of my recovery month is looming.

Tuesday, I need to start a regular work schedule again. Which means a lot less internet, if I mean to keep up with life. I'm thinking my schedule is going to look like, up at 7, dog out, yoga, food, morning internets, at work by 9 am. If I can get in 2,000 words by 1, then dog walking, internets, food, guitar, math, and then whatever the evening holds. Research. Television. Climbing. More food. Reading for pleasure. Archery. Nonfiction writing obligations.

The dog walking is currently on hold until there are sidewalks again, by the way. There's hardcore and then there's FN.

This seems feasible to me, and if I am not around online as much that's okay, really. Too much internet is bad for my serenity. And productivity. ;-)

The morning's Weekend Edition, by the way, had a gorgeous profile of Ernest Borgnine, for whom I have had a creeping fondness ever since my adolescent crush on the helicopter in Airwolf. (Once upon a time, I scribbled Airwolf fanfic in my school notebooks. Now I have no secrets from you. Thank God I ritually threw all those out at the end of the year.)

And now, off the internets, and into the bread-making mines.

Ooo, and maybe I will make ginger beer. Because yum.
matociquala: (holmes confidence)
[22:18] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Research for May Maisy?
[22:18] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: yes
[22:18] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: Mazer. *g*
[22:18] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: I was about to call her Misty May.
[22:18] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: But I think that's a softcore porn actress.
[22:19] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: Apparently she's a professional volleyball player
[22:19] [livejournal.com profile] matociquala: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Misty_May-Treanor
[22:19] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Oh, no, that's Misty Mundae I was thinking of.
[22:20] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: Of Lord of the G-Strings, and Play-Mate of the Apes.
[22:20] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: And two episodes of CSI.
[22:21] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0612691/#Actress
[22:21] [livejournal.com profile] kafkonia: As well as the doubtlessly tasteful "Duck! The Carbine High Massacre".
matociquala: (sf star trek horta/spock)
Hmm. "Mobius Heart" is pinging at me. Which is nice, because I was starting to wonder if it ever would. I think I'll port it into Scrivener and play with it.

But first, breakfast.

(I did just pop the file open and put in a note to myself--only to find I had made the same memo to me at an earlier date. So much for that stunn ing narrative epiphany. But then I had a second, new narrative epiphany. So yay.)
matociquala: (sf star trek horta/spock)
Hmm. "Mobius Heart" is pinging at me. Which is nice, because I was starting to wonder if it ever would. I think I'll port it into Scrivener and play with it.

But first, breakfast.

(I did just pop the file open and put in a note to myself--only to find I had made the same memo to me at an earlier date. So much for that stunn ing narrative epiphany. But then I had a second, new narrative epiphany. So yay.)
matociquala: (mythbusters kari eye)
There's new Shadow Unit content here, and has been since Saturday, but I was busy. Also, I hear that people are starting to get their subscription copies of the January 2011 Asimov's, in which I have a short story, "Dolly."

Well, today was supposed to be a day off, but I failed it, and wrote 1600 words of outline for "Uniform," which needs to get done post-haste. Also needing to get done, a final draft of "The Hand is Quicker."

World Fantasy was fun and exhausting and hopefully productive. I did talk with my illustrious editor about Range of Ghosts, and she thinks it's not broken, and she will have notes for me soon. Which is good. I have a bunch of notes of my own, but it seems like nothing is too horribly wrong with it. Just a lot of things that need to get fiddled to make it perfect.

I think my roomie left her watch home. I keep hearing something beeping.

Now I'm going to do some more laundry and watch last week's Mythbusters.
matociquala: (criminal minds diana reid crazy)
I am reasonably mighty. Not only did I climb or at least attempt six routes today (including one I could just about get onto, and another one I think I can get up if I try it first next time) but I also wrote 2000 words on my Silverberg tribute story, "The Hand is Quicker--" and I pretty much know what happens for the next 6-8,000 words. Tomorrow I'm going to get through as much as I can, pre-WFC.

Which is good.

I also applied for some contract jobs, because a Bear needs to eat. I'm mad qualified; we'll see if they want me.

Currently, I'm dowloading the Scrivener for Windows beta. I figure if anybody can effectively beta test a writing tool, it's me.

And on that note, I'm going to put my pajamas on and either read my book for a bit or maybe write some more.

Ahh, the glamour.

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