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February 2017

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Feb. 21st, 2017

bear by san

What makes a protagonist?

That's an excellent question, and I talk about some answers here.

Feb. 17th, 2017

sf sapphire and steel winning

it only hurts when i laugh, she said

My contribution to the Trump Story Project, "What Someone Else Does Not Want Printed," is now live at Slate.

Feb. 16th, 2017

loose tea for loose women

home's a long long way from us


WIJHKTORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

With extra letters.
I just finished and handed in a draft of "Perfect Gun," a mil-SF short story about a boy and his war machine. And I got word that Stone Mad, which is the final title for the novella formerly called Rook and Ruin, has been accepted with its revisions.
can't sleep books will eat me

TOTAL PANDEMONIUM!

I'll be at Pandemonium Books in Cambridge MA tonight at 7 pm for a multi-author event with:
Max Gladstone
Scott Lynch
Ada Palmer
Charlie Stross
Jo Walton
Fran Wilde

Feb. 12th, 2017

bear by san

long come old brady got a shining star

Current kitten weights:

Molly 8.6 lbs
Gurney 10 lbs
Duncan 10.7 lbs
Tags:

Feb. 8th, 2017

bear by san

night comes again to the circle studded sky

More bracket notes that will haunt me forever, here.

Feb. 6th, 2017

spies mfu bolsheviks _ naominovik

sunshine in my eyes can make me cry

I wrote a very long post on the problems of the kleptocracy and some ideologies for fighting it over here on my Patreon.

Jan. 24th, 2017

bear by san

gotta get behind the mule in the morning and plow.

(Reposted from Patreon)

Jan. 20th, 2017

bear by san

(no subject)

Update newsletter over at tinyletter, where--if you want--you can subscribe!
bear by san

don't cry, 'cause i ain't changing my mind

(For first part of post, SEE FIRST ROCK.) (For second part of post, SEE PREVIOUS ROCK)

THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT A NARRATIVE, PART III

11) But what if I want to write a tragedy?

Well then. Let’s look at Unforgiven, shall we? I’m not going to go into the whole damned movie, because this is already four thousand words long. But it serves as a good example of catharsis through the denial of character growth. It’s a tragedy, and it leaves that haunted, achy feeling behind that good tragedies do.

Because Will Muny never manages to do the thing he needs to do, and let go of the ill-advised revenge killing-for-hire that he’s embarked upon. Even when his best friend is dead, even when his protege has repudiated him, he’s dead set on his mission. He does what he wants, not what he needs, and the result is awful for everyone.

He never takes a heroic action. He fails protagonist. Tragedy ensues.

See also: Hamlet.

Sometimes this structure is easier to pick this out when it fails–and it can fail by being heavyhanded and painful. Copycat (1995) is a great example. How is it even possible for a movie starring Holly Hunter and Sigourney Weaver to be that bad?

And yet it is.

The salient bit here is the character flaws, which are agoraphobia (Weaver) and an unwillingness to shoot to kill (Hunter). Because it’s handled in such a heavyhanded fashion, we know from the end of the first reel that at some point in the movie Weaver’s character will be trapped by her fear, and that her heroic action will involve crossing an open space. We also know that Hunter’s character will get somebody killed by refusing to shoot somebody in the head, and that at the end of the movie she’ll have to do that.

On the other hand, take Die Hard (the original from 1988, please) which does almost all of these things well. I’m going to leave the process of deconstructing it as a machine to the reader, because normally at this point I’d make my class do it. But feel free to argue about it in comments.

And the Reginald Veljohnson character (Fondly known to all as Twinkie Cop, though the character’s name is Al) has exactly the same flaw and resolution as the Hunter character.

So why doesn’t it suck when Al shoots somebody in the third reel to save the day? Um. Well, the writing and characterization are much better, for two things. But those are different lectures too.

I think it comes down to rhetoric. A story is an argument, and Copycat is a really unconvincing one.

12) A three-act plot is a machine.

If you put the gears and magnets and linkages in the right place, and give it enough juice (in the form of a strong conflict), it will work every single time. It may not be great literature, but it’ll work.

More experimental forms can fail for no good reason except gravity. They’re an art; three-act structure, however, is a science.

This is why it’s used so often by scriptwriters and pulp hacks, who must produce a working story reliably under immense deadline pressure, or they don’t get paid. I don’t mean to denigrate the three-act plot by saying this. I rely on it extensively–under deadline pressure, or because there’s no thematic or narrative need to do anything fancy and exhausting, or simply because it’s elegant and invisible and I can use it to support all kinds of interesting narrative curlicues and whorls.

A three-act is sound engineering, in other words.

I’m a huge proponent of the idea that for any given narrative need, the simplest tool we can field that will do the job elegantly is the best one. Stunt writing is all well and good, and sometimes it’s incredibly useful–sometimes, a really flashy trick is the only trick that will get the job done*. Too often, an apprentice writer will reach for the biggest hammer, so to speak, even when she’s trying to drive a finishing tack. Or she won’t be able to find a hammer at all, and she’ll wind up driving the tack with the side of a pair of dikes.

I’ve done it. We’ve all done it.

And every time I pry the lid off a paint can with a wood chisel, I picture my grandfather the plumber-savant rolling over in his grave.

The good news is that as the writer matures, her tool box fills up with any number of specialized tools, and a lot of good handy general purpose ones.

There are no rules. There are only techniques that work or do not work in any given application.

Three-act structure is just such a robust, elegant, and infinitely flexible tool.

And now you know how every uninspired episode of a network TV show will end.

13) Hacks

This counts as a Stupid Writer Trick–one of those great dirty underhanded tricks that writers can pull to make ourselves look smarter than we are.

You can use three-act structure to tell a nonlinear story. And when it’s done well, the result is like a huge kick in the reader’s brain, like a great glorious a-hah! moment. So much of writing is about hacking your readers’ neurology.

How do you do this?

Memento.

Pulp Fiction.

You tell the story using three-act structure. But you tell it out of order, so that the discontinuity supports the story you want to tell. (If you try doing this with a story that doesn’t need it, it just looks pretentious. Be wary.)

***

**Other parts of the world had and continue to have their own stuff going on, narrative-structure-wise. To quote Kurt Vonnegut: “Here’s what I know about that: bupkiss.”***

*I refer the interested reader to Anthony Burgess’s A Dead Man in Deptford, which uses a hugely flashy POV trick–a first-person omniscient unreliable narrator–without which the book could not work.

***The footnotes are asterisked out of order because they are asterisked in the order in which I wrote them. I am a somewhat nonlinear writer, as it happens.

****The Matter of Britain and Chaucer both tend toward either the One Damned Thing After Another plot that Aristotle so loathed and maligned, or the morality play/just so story. Beowulf, most curiously, consists of three independent and perfectly cromulent three-act structure stories, which is probably why we still read and enjoy it today. The Táin Bó Cúailnge is strikingly modern in structure, too.

*****In genre stories, the game is for the reader to figure out whodunnit (if it’s a mystery) or how the world works (if it’s science fiction or fantasy) or to evoke a specific emotional response in the reader (horror and romance and erotica and humor and thrillers). In satire, the game is social commentary. In travelogues, of which the planetary romance and quest fantasy are subsets, the game is to experience a place. In literary fiction, the game is for the reader to tease out theme and structure and character and experience the personal changes and failures to change of the characters******.

******Please note that none of these are exclusive of any other. It is perfectly possible, if challenging, to write an SFnal travelogue romance murder mystery spy thriller literary novel. That book is Mary Gentle’s Golden Witchbreed, which I recommend.

*******Okay, you got me. It’s really a sawtooth wave. But this way looks prettier.

********Hero’s Journey, Kishōtenketsu, Nodal, Open, Modulated, stuff. Get Googling.

*********Unusually for modern television, not three; count the commercial breaks!

**********This is stated repeatedly in the film–count the number of times somebody says something to the effect of “I ain’t like you,” or “You and me, we’re alike.” The Gene Hackman character is even also named William, for crying out loud.*************

***********Ideally, anyway. In suboptimal cases, we can become profoundly irritated by them.

************However, B:tVS largely handles its character arcs through the epic model.

*************This can also be done with characters who serve as foils for each other. See John McClane and Twinkie Cop************** in Die Hard.

**************Everybody loves Twinkie Cop.

bear by san

i don't need to see any more to know

(For first part of post, SEE PREVIOUS ROCK) (For the last part of this post, SEE NEXT ROCK)

THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT A NARRATIVE, PART II

7) The road winds ever on.

Then there are the really long stories. These tend to have the picaresque, episodic, or epic structures.

Picaresque is a series of events which are unconnected to one another, and in which each event does not have any effect on following events. Picture the classic episodic television shows of the era leading up to Hill Street Blues, where at the end of each episode a cosmis reset button has been pushed. The characters do not develop, and previous events are never referred to again. There’s a quality of this as well in certain types of series novels–events are totally resolved at the end of each one, and all change is external to the protagonist. You can read them in any order, basically: think of the Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys books.

2014-03-30 15.56.59

The episodic structure is one where each individual story contributes to an ongoing narrative arc, but is complete in itself. Sometimes they escalate in tension as a season progresses, functioning as sort of macro-scale rising and falling action in a larger three-act structure (Buffy: the Vampire Slayer************), and sometimes they just lead one into the next (the aforementioned Hill Street Blues).

2014-03-30 15.56.48

2014-03-30 15.57.07

The epic form is exemplified by shows like The Wire or Heat or Game of Thrones. They are, essentially, soap operas. Same structure. Same techniques. It’s what we use in those multi-volume epic fantasies, too.

The long running soap opera is the modern equivalent of the newspaper serial or comic book or radio drama, and all of those are progenitors of epic fantasy as we know it today. They’re all addictive as hell. One part of this is because of long-spun plot lines that we come to care about–mysteries we want to know the answers to–and another part is because we become incredibly invested in the characters over time***********.

A story told in western 3 (or 5) act structure has one long peak with a series of quick up-and-down ticks in tension (rising and falling action, always trending upwards to the climax).

But the plot cycle in an epic fantasy or soap opera or serial is a series of overlapping sine waves*******. (One for each character or plot thread.) Each peak in each sine wave is one of those three-act structure peaks in miniature. They overlap, ideally, so that one narrative’s tension is rising while another is reaching a denouement.

2014-03-30 15.57.20

This is also why the damned things are so hard to end, by the way. You get into a rhythm, and used to spinning out long plot threads and thematic lines and hooks to carry you from one arc into the next. So the story, after a while, has a momentum. A natural tendency to propagate itself.

2014-03-30 15.57.30

2014-03-30 15.58.24

Shifting from “middle” to “end” is brutal when you’ve gotten into that habit.

8) Fichtean Curves

Well, that’s the exposition handled. Let’s talk about three-act structure for reals, and how you build your machine.

Here’s a picture of what it looks like:

2014-03-30 15.56.18

Three-act structure is the basic modern structure for the goal-oriented plot. In essence, the character has a goal and meets a series of challenges or obstacles of increasing difficulty in order to achieve that goal. The first act is generally introduction, demonstrating what’s at stake, establishing characters and getting the wheels started turning. By the end of the first act, we generally expect a reversal–also called a turning point–where something happens that will change the protagonist’s life forever no matter how they react happens.

Basically, this is where you break something. And generally, the earlier in the narrative that something changes, the better.

At the two-thirds point (this marks the end of the middle of the narrative, or the end of the second act) we find the second turning point–where the conflict has escalated to the point where it looks as if there’s no way the protagonists can prevail. (A really interesting and well-developed antagonist and/or villain–they’re not the same thing exactly–is very useful for this, but that’s a different lecture.)

But the protagonist perserveres, and eventually reaches an ultimate conflict–the climax–and then proceeds to a resolution through the heroic action of said protagonist.

A funny thing about three-act structure. It’s a complete natural for trilogies, and one of the best examples of how it works when it works well is the original Star Wars films.

A New Hope (I will never be able to type that without flinching, which tells you pretty precisely how old I am), while it’s a complete three-act story in itself, is also the first act of the larger story. It’s climax (the destruction of the Death Star) also serves as a turning point for Luke, Leia, Han, and Chewie. (Even though Chewie doesn’t get a medal, and yes, I am still bitter.)

The Empire Strikes Back is also a complete story in itself (people complain about the middles of trilogies often because the writer neglects to structure the escalating action so it has an arc, and then it just kind of sits there–this movie passes that test better than most.) whose climax also serves as the second turning point (sometimes known as the Darkest Hour) where Han is frozen and kidnapped, Luke is maimed, terrible secrets are revealed, Vader finds out about Leia, and it seems as if all is hopeless.

The Return of the Jedi serves as the third act, leading up the biggest climax, the bossfight, and the putative antagonist’s crisis of conscience that leads to the victory. (I say putative antagonist because it’s my contention that there’s a good case for Vader as the protag, but that’s a different argument.)

9) Okay, so how do I build this machine?

First you assemble your bits.

You need a character in a situation with a problem.

That character must want something. (This is incredibly important, and not merely to drive the plot. A character who wants something is a character with whom the reader instantaneously connects. We talk a lot about “audience identification” and “likable protagonists” and while it’s nice if you can get it, in my experience a far more necessary thing is audience engagement. Katniss isn’t particularly likable to many people (hell, for me, part of her charm is that she’s snappish and opinionated), but boy does she engage.

So. Identify your protagonist. Identify their situation. Provide them with a problem–the bigger and more immediate, the better, but anything will do to start. You can (and will) always escalate later.

Now figure out what they want, and also what they need. These things should be in conflict with each other–what they want, in other words, should not be what’s good for them. The difference can be subtle, and one thing can be a precondition for the other–or they can be directly opposed, which gives us a great opportunity for character growth.

The reason for this is because where we get theme, in a three-act story, is from the conflict between want and need.

Now, that thing your protag wants? You wave it under your character’s nose. Let her get a real good sniff. And then you take it away from her. (This is also referred to as “the inciting incident.”)

I’ve said for years that one of the most important tools a novelist can have in a story is a character who runs toward the sound of gunfire. (We all have that friend, right? The one that can’t go around mud? When you can, make your protagonist that guy. He’ll make his own fun.)

But if you’ve just stolen your protag’s emotional and physical security, well, he’ll bloody well move heaven and earth to go and get it, won’t he?

You also have the option of giving your character some sort of flaw that they must overcome in the third act (as part of their heroic action at the climax) in order to complete the victory condition of the story. This needs to be handled very lightly. Because the result when it doesn’t work out is dire.

Once you have those things, you have everything you need to tell a story. And the best part is, the end is implied in the beginning. You’ve set up the problem you have to solve.

Now the problem that remains is to find an interesting way to complicate and then solve it.

10) Now, you may say this sounds formulaic.

That would be because it is a formula. If not used advisedly, it will indeed produce a formulaic result.

And part of the trick here is that while you often know where you will end, you can have a lot of fun with the path you take to get there. I am not alone among writers in having taken an unpublishable early novel, kept the beginning and the denouement almost unchanged, ripped out the majority of the second and third act, replaced it with something better, and produced a much better book.

Don’t be afraid to throw out ideas and look for better ones.

When this formula is it’s used well, after all, the result is Casablanca.

We have our protag, Rick Blaine. We have the thing he wants: initially, it’s to be left alone. “I stick my neck out for nobody.” This want eventually evolves into wanting Ilsa Lund back. But neither of those things is what Rick needs. What he needs is to get his mojo back; to become a man again.

Rick won’t run towards the gunfire. He has to be dragged. (This is actually his character flaw: he’s lost his courage.)

So we present him with the inciting incidents–we take away his alone. He comes into custody of the Macguffin–the thing everyone in the story wants to get their hands on–and his lost love, the person who broke him, comes back into his orbit.

But there’s a complication. She’s married. And her husband is both a hero and a wanted man. (There’s Nazis. The villain in this movie, Strasser, is actually not very interesting–far more intriguing is another antagonist, Renault, who is a Vichy French chief of police.) Ilsa’s husband complicates things further by using Rick’s bar as a staging ground to foment anti-German feeling.

At this point, it’s just a matter of setting up action and reaction, each move building on the next, each character acting in the interest of their own goals and within the limitations of their design. It’s exactly like writing a fight scene or a conversation in macro–action, reaction, ripost, reaction–raising the stakes slightly each time.

At the end–the climax point, we resolve it by bringing Rick’s (evolved) want (Ilsa) into direct conflict with the need that he has now come to recognize–that he will not be himself again unless he fights the Germans. He overcomes his learned cowardice and fights the Germans. He sends Ilsa off with her husband; Renault experiences a crisis of conscience and comes to Rick’s rescue; and the two of them make a pact to help the resistance.

This is a satisfying ending because it offers catharsis in the form of narrative justice. Rick must sacrifice something (his desire for Ilsa) in order to make himself whole and also to do the right thing on a larger scale. (Ilsa has a parallel plot arc, where she too must choose to do the right thing–stay with her husband–over going with Rick. Ilsa’s husband’s crisis comes earlier in the plot, when he urges Rick to save Ilsa and is willing to sacrifice himself to make it happen.)

A satisfying ending for this structure, in other words, is usually one that requires some sort of sacrifice or compromise to get there, and which always requires some growth. (With one exception, explored below.)

None of these choices are easy, but they are ethical, and they exhibit the growth of the characters. Casablanca is a heroic narrative.

(SEE NEXT ROCK)

bear by san

the sun in your eyes made some of the lies worth believing

The following is a version of the lecture on how to plot a story that I gave versions of every year at Viable Paradise from 2008 to 2013, to one each Clarion and Clarion West classes, and also once at Odyssey.

I’m retiring it now and putting it here, where it can serve both as resource material for future incoming VP classes and as an example of the sort of thing we talk about while we’re there.

This lecture assumes that the reader has some basic competence with narrative, and is familiar with the basic idea of three-act structure and how it works. It then attempts to present some tricks for writing one successfully. And also talks about some other stuff. As one does.

There will be spoilers for the movies Casablanca, Unforgiven, and Die Hard, and for the original Star Wars trilogy. The newest of those is over twenty years old. You’re not allowed to complain.

There will also be badly photographed hand-drawn images scrawled in my notebook. I thought it would be whimsical, but I think the final effect was something more like “duct-tape bodywork.”

***
THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT A NARRATIVE

By the end of this essay, I expect I will have ruined Hollywood movies for you forever. The good news is, you can have the fun of explaining to your friends exactly how they’re going to end after the first act, and you’ll have pretty good odds of being right.

I will also have taught you how to produce a working plot for a short story every single time, without fail. This is not the only way to structure a plot, and we’ll talk about some of those others in passing.

But it is a tool that will always work, once you know how to apply it, and you can hang all kinds of special effects on it to make it fancy.

1) In the beginning, there was Aristotle.

Aristotle, who made the radical discovery that stories should have protasis, epitasis, and catastrophe. Or as we would say these days: a beginning, a middle, and an end.

I know! It seems self-evident. A matter of common sense, even. But it turns out that like displacement, the heliocentric model, and the idea that the brain is the center of the emotions, some things are only evident once somebody points them out.

Here’s what he had to say, from Poetics: (S. H. Butler translation):

Now, according to our definition Tragedy is an imitation of an action that is complete, and whole, and of a certain magnitude; for there may be a whole that is wanting in magnitude. A whole is that which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning is that which does not itself follow anything by causal necessity, but after which something naturally is or comes to be. An end, on the contrary, is that which itself naturally follows some other thing, either by necessity, or as a rule, but has nothing following it. A middle is that which follows something as some other thing follows it. A well constructed plot, therefore, must neither begin nor end at haphazard, but conform to these principles.

He also had a heck of a lot of stuff to say about the unity of action and place and time, and other things that only concern us these days when we choose to concern ourselves with them, though they can certainly be used as tools when a writer decides to do so. One radical thing he does say is this, however: Unity of plot does not, as some persons think, consist in the unity of the hero.

In other words, a plot is not the same thing as what we, now, would call a Bildungsroman–that is to say, a fictional biography. It can be a piece of a person’s life, united by action, place, and time. Or what we, with the benefit of an additional 2400 years of dramaturgy, would just call “a story.”

He had a few nasty things to say about Series Of Unfortunate Events as a plot structure, as well. If I may translate into the vernacular, basically: “It ain’t.”

Here’s what Aristotle’s plot looks like, as described by a simple geometric shape.

2014-03-30 15.54.54

2) Horace splits hairs.

Aristotle’s plot structure seems to have largely held sway as the dominant Classical modality for some three hundred years**. I’m sure there were slapfights over it. There are always slapfights. It will take someone more educated in the classics than I to tell you if any such slapfights have survived.

Then Horace decided (rather prescriptively, it seems to me) that a play should have five acts, “no more and no less,” and as it was written, well, so it was done.

3) Oh, those wacky Elizabethans

Meanwhile, off in the Germanic-speaking portions of the world (including the bit that would eventually evolve and Creolize into the English-speaking one) other stuff was going on. Romans came and Romans went and as you know if you’ve read period literature, not a whole lot of attention was paid by the indigenes to the conqueror’s narrative formalisms****.

Suddenly, in the 1500’s, the five-act structure suddenly caught on again among Tudor dramatists. You may know their names: Jonson, Marlowe, Nash, Kyd, Shakespeare. That lot.

Why?

Well, because it’s a tremendously powerful and flexible tool. It provides tension and resolution, opportunities for character growth, for triumph and tragedy–basically, it keeps your audience interested.

It turns out that’s a valuable property in an entertainment when your competition is bear-baiting across the way, and you’re performing on an open stage in front of a short-tempered audience armed with plenty of rotten fruit and well-lubricated with pottles of ale.

Here’s a picture of how the five-act structure works.

2014-03-30 15.55.15

4) Freytag is a little misleading.

In 1863, Gustav Freytag codified the five-act structure with the diagram usually referred to as “Freytag’s Pyramid.” I didn’t draw you one, so here’s a link to Wikipedia.

Kind of makes it look like the falling action is as long as the rising action, doesn’t it? And like exposition is a thing that happens in its own block, set off from the actual story. And like there’s some difference between falling action and denouement….

5) Hybrid vigor

How did the modern three-act structure evolve from the Elizabethan five-act structure? I don’t honestly know, and a very cursory examination of Wikipedia fails to enlighten me. My English Criticism classes were a long, long time ago, and it’ll be good for you to Google it.

Maybe it has something to do with commercial breaks.

Suffice it to say, it did evolve. And what we have now is a wonderful hybrid of Aristotelian and Shakespearean models.

Which we’ll come back to in a moment.

5) But I digress.

Now, as I said, modern three-act structure is not the only way to structure a plot. And in many cases, it may not even be the most appropriate.

It’s safe, because once you learn it it’s unlikely to fail, and even if you break it the failure modes are rarely catastrophic and often easily yanked back into shape. Now, safety is not the soul of art, and if you’re not falling off you’re not climbing hard enough (after all, that’s what the ropes are for), but sometimes you want your risks to be somewhere else other than your plot structure.

We learn by experimenting. We learn by failing. I encourage apprentice writers to try out all of these plot structures, and figure out what they’re good for. And then go out and discover all the other ones********, because what I present here is just a sampling.

Dare to suck.

6) Wheels within wheels

One way to establish theme is through repetition, parallels, and situations that reinforce, comment on, and critique each other. This is a plot structure common in literary stories, where the game is different than it is in genre stories*****.

2014-03-30 15.56.31

This is often called the “circular” plot structure. I personally prefer the term spiral structure, because “circular” suggests that the same thing happens over and over again exactly, but really, what happens is that there are thematic repetitions of events. It’s almost balladic in a way–we keep coming back to a refrain. And it is common in literary stories.

Doesn’t mean you can’t use it in genre stories, though. The early seasons of the television show Criminal Minds combine four different plot structures: each episode is a discrete five-act structure*********, the character arcs follow an epic structure (see below), the seasons follow an integrated episode structure (also see below), and the thematic structure is this spiral, with repetitions and variations on a theme.

Narrative tension in this form is often generated through personal development or withheld information. There is conflict, but it may not be structured in the familiar rising action to a climax with which we are familiar from television and the pulps.

Adaptation is a movie structured in this fashion, about a guy trying to turn a novel structured in this fashion into a Hollywood blockbuster with a three-act structure.

Heat (the 1995 Michael Mann crime drama with Pacino and De Niro) gets its thematic impact this way. It tells the stories of a number of relationships in parallel, and in every relationship one character is presented with the opportunity to keep or to break faith with the other. The fate of these characters reflects which decision they each make.

Karen Joy Fowler’s brilliant 2013 novel We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves is structured in this fashion.

Unforgiven also gets its thematic imapct in part from this technique. It uses the mythic structure in which every character in it is a reflection of the protagonist (or, more properly, antihero), Clint Eastwood’s character William Muny.**********

It’s often a thematically useful trick to allow the antagonist to reflect or mirror or subvert certain qualities of the protagonist. These may not always be positive ones–a good antagonist has positive qualities as well. If she’s ambitious when the protagonist is feckless, so much the better.

Unforgiven is particularly useful to us because it also gets its thematic impact via a more traditional three-act structure tactic, and we’ll be back to that.

(Livejournal feels that this post is too large, so SEE NEXT ROCK  and SEE FINAL ROCK for the remainder of it.)

bear by san

i got no deeds to do. no promises to keep.

Here is a storify of my Inauguration Day Twitter rant welcoming the new folks to the resistance.

Do the work that is before your hand to do.

There is enough work for everyone, and enough hands to get it all done eventually.

Jan. 18th, 2017

bear by san

Oh, yeahhhhhhh.

Cover reveal for The Stone in the Skull up at Tor.com! Fantastic art by Richard Anderson!



Book drops 10/10/2017.

I'm actually working on the copy edits right now.

Jan. 17th, 2017

bear by san

how i learned to stop worrying and ignore the internet.

You there.

New writer.

Freshly-published debut author.

Get off tumblr, stop worrying about what people think, and go write your next book.

Okay look, I'm not saying that one should not consider thoughtful criticism of one's work, or that one should isolate one's self from the community. I'm not saying that criticism has no value. I'm not saying be an inconsiderate asshole.

Don't be an inconsiderate asshole. Or try not to: we all fail that one sometimes, too. And not just to our mothers.

I'm saying that there are people out there who want to make you write their book for them, and that's impossible, because nobody can write their book except for them. So when they start reading as if they are measuring every single book against the perfect book in their head, well--they will never find it.

Because as all writers know, the only way to get that book--the book that speaks with your own voice--is to write it.

And then fail, because every book is a failure in some way, even if only its author knows it.

They're never quite perfect, our creations, because writing is too hard to do well. Fail better next time. Let those other people write their own books.

If you haven't written a book yet, but nobody else is writing the books that say what you want said, well, you have exactly one option. And it's the same place every single published author started out, at one time or another.

There are no shortcuts. Use your voice.

So stop kicking yourself. Stop catering to someone else's ideal, and set your own. It'll probably still be unattainable, but it will be yours.

Stop trying to speak with somebody else's voice because that somebody told you your own voice was inadequate or uncommercial or wrong. Stop telling yourself that your work is garbage. Stop telling yourself that nobody else wants to hear what you have to say. Accept that there are people who will hear you wrong, and that that's not your problem, and you get to have boundaries as an artist.

You get to have boundaries, even as an artist on the internet.

You have a voice. One voice.

It's your voice.

Your voice is important.

Use it.

Jan. 16th, 2017

bear by san

the boys want to be her

Kitten weigh in!

Molly: 7.5 pounds
Duncan: 8.7 pounds
Gurney: 8 pounds even
Tags:

Jan. 13th, 2017

bear by san

no matter how far you roam, i will always love you.

INT: BEDROOM: 7:40 am

Monkey: Mrrph?

The Smart One: *patter patter patter DWOP!*

Monkey: Oh, hi, Mousie.

The Smart One: *runs down monkey's spine*

The Smart One: *patter patter patter rattle rattle thump rattle thump slide rattle patter thump*

The Smart One: *patter patter patter DWOP!*

Monkey: Oh, hi, Mousie.

The Smart One: *runs down monkey's spine*

The Smart One: *patter patter patter rattle rattle thump rattle thump slide rattle patter thump*

The Smart One: *patter patter patter DWOP!*

Monkey: Oh, hi, Mousie.

The Smart One: *runs down monkey's spine*

The Smart One: *patter patter patter rattle rattle thump rattle thump slide rattle patter THUMP.*

The Smart One: ...

Monkey: ...

The Smart One: ...

Monkey: ...

Action Dork Cat: CUDDLES TIME!

Monkey: *cuddles*

The Smart One: Cuddles?

Action Dork Cat: MOAR CUDDLES TIME!

Monkey: *cuddles*

The Smart One: This is no good.

The Smart One: *jumps to shelf by bed*

Action Dork Cat: MOAR CUDDLES TIME!!!!!!!!!!11!1eleventy!

The Smart One: *pushes pill bottles around*

Monkey: Cat.

The Smart One: *pushes pill bottles off shelf*

Monkey: You little shit.

Monkey: *evicts cat*

Monkey: *Well, I guess I'm up anyway."

Monkey: *Fetches a flashlight and a stick, and retrieves Mousie from where she has been lost THIS time.*

The Smart One: MOUSIE! *scamper patter rattlepounce*

SEMI-FERAL NINJA PRINCESS QUEEN EXILED FROM BEYOND THE MIRROR DIMENSION: You guys are weird.

***

Mousie has been returned to her family and is resting comfortably:



SEMI-FERAL NINJA PRINCESS QUEEN EXILED FROM BEYOND THE MIRROR DIMENSION is still trying to figure out how to get home:



Cuddles time:

Jan. 12th, 2017

criminal minds bad shirt brigade

my girlfriend's cat is smarter than me

https://www.patreon.com/posts/7748412

(reposted from Patreon)

ON ANXIETY

Above, a photo of three adolescent kittens. Please ignore the background clutter: it's an actual picture of my actual bedroom 30 seconds ago, unretouched except for a little color correction, complete with the clean sheets I didn't manage to get on the bed yesterday.

The goofy tuxedo cleaning his toes is Duncan; the elegant blue blending into my robe is Gurney. They're littermates.

I want to talk about the vigilant little tortoiseshell on the footboard.

Her name is Molly, and she's a little over a month older than the boys, but two pounds smaller. She came home with them because when she came into rescue, she was housed with them as a near-agemate, and the three of them have bonded like true sibs; there is washing, and chasing, and spatting.

The difference is, while the boys somehow wound up in a shelter and from there eventually a rescue, they obviously had good mothering and good human socialization. They know how to play without using their claws; they have a number of vocalizations that they use liberally with humans; their favorite game is fetch.

Molly is a semi-feral who was netted on a street in New Jersey and got very, very lucky to find her way into the same crate with her foster brothers and eventually on to my nice warm bed--rather than being euthanized.

She's almost always vigilant; her head is on a swivel, and even when she's napping she almost never completely relaxes. She's difficult to approach and will only sometimes tolerate human contact, and she needs to be in control of the interaction.

In human terms, she's anxious and on the defensive all the time.

Some of this is genetic, of course; she's pretty obviously got at least one feral parent, and she'll never be the sack of comfortable snores her brothers can be.

Some of it is the kitty equivalent of PTSD. She's been traumatized, and she knows that everything can vanish under her in seconds, and she might have no control about where she lands.

The boys are rambunctious, bold, and while they're both very athletic, one of them--Duncan--has a real tendency toward getting himself into scrapes he needs to be rescued from. He doesn't follow the rules of parkour very well, and he doesn't always know how to get out of what he's gotten himself into. (Gurney generally has a plan. Duncan is like KOWABUNGA IT'LL WORK OUT SOMEHOW.)

Molly always has a plan. Molly has three plans. In addition to her plans, Molly has two escape routes, and she's prepared to fight for her life if they don't work out.

The boys crash and bang and stampede all over the house. Molly moves on little ghost feet, in doorways and around the edges of rooms.

Molly acts like she works in the publishing industry.

Specifically, she acts like a writer (or any artist, probably) who's forced to confront the realities of making a living in a field with wildly inconsistent rewards and quite a few punishments, and doing it through the means of stripping out all her fears and vulnerabilities and waving them around for people to be entertained by (or not) and to judge (and quite possibly publicly disdain.)

I know so many anxious writers.

Hell, I'm an anxious writer. Coming back from a really messy, crippling bout with it right now, actually, and currently have the upper hand, but let's not talk about the latter half of 2015, and almost all of last year.

I have so many brilliant friends who are anxious about what they are writing about, or the quality of what they are writing, or showing their writing to other people, or whether the internet will fall on their heads no matter what they do, or even being able to write at all... and it pisses me off, this anxiety (and my anxiety, which manifests in I HAVE NOTHING USEFUL TO SAY AND I AM SAYING IT POORLY SO WHY BOTHER) because it robs the world--and selfish me--of so much good art I could be enjoying otherwise.

I wish I could take all of their anxiety and roll it up in a ball and ship it to those guys who spend a lot of time stomping around the internet fussing about how the world doesn't understand their genius and plotting ways to game award processes. Except I know that that's anxiety, too.

It's a way some people deal with it--by seeking validation any way they can, and blustering if their self-image isn't constantly reinforced. Just a some people deal with it by internalizing and eating themselves away, or being paralyzed into being unable to write or unable to submit, or withdrawing, or--my favorite, and the most subtle of all!--pulling themselves back from their art, no longer being honest and making themselves vulnerable through it, and creating something more facile than true.

What's the answer?

I don't know.

I suspect everybody has to find their own solution, because everybody's anxiety manifests in a different way.

I've dealt with it recently by getting angry and sad enough that I feel like I have something to say that's worth saying, and reminding myself that it's better said poorly than not said at all. I've dealt with it by (with the help of my spouse [hello, spouse!]) making space to work early in the day, when I am relaxed and not yet feeling the press of worries and duties of the day.

I've dealt with it by bulling through, but that doesn't work in the long run. I've dealt with it through medication, which does, sort of, but you still have to use the respite to get to the underlying issues. I've dealt with it by figuring out what I was afraid of, and remembering that--like Molly (remember Molly? This is a post about Molly)--I have lived through worse.

Also, you know, this is my job. And I love it. And I'm doing it to the best of my ability, which is pretty damned well, actually, because I am good at my job.

And I am entitled to my voice, and to the space to speak out with that voice. My falling silent will not, in fact, in any way improve the commons or its diversity. It will rather diminish that.

People don't have to choose to listen to me, but they have no right to tell me not to speak.

And if people are unhappy with my books, they can write their own damn books.

I'm sure as hell not stopping them. They shouldn't let their anxieties stop them, either.

Molly doesn't need anybody. She, unlike her brothers, can take care of most things herself.

But here's the thing: they're noisy little guys. They talk to me, their toys, birbs, bugs on the ceiling, each other.

I've only heard Molly vocalize (other than a defensive hiss) on two types of occasions, and until this morning, it was only one. If she is somewhere else in the house and doesn't know where her brothers and Scott and I are, she will pause in her explorations sometimes and emit a perfect little "Meow?" or two until somebody says--in cat or human--"Molly, we're over here."

And this morning, she was sleeping on my feet, and was startled awake by a boy-noise in the hall. She sat bolt upright like a little meercat, front legs dangling, the better to survey the situation.

And while she was sitting there on my feet, she emitted a little, muttering growl, as if to say, "This is my spot, and I will fuck you up if you come for me here."

Molly may be anxious, but she also has something to say, and she apparently has a platform to say it from.

If a six pound semiferal kitten with PTSD can manage it, so can we.

Jan. 11th, 2017

bear by san

Dear Senator Warren and Senator Markey;

Here is the text of the emails I just sent to my U.S. Senators, Elizabeth Warren and Ed Markey,

I grant the right under Creative Commons for anyone who wishes to repurpose this text for their own use when contacting their elected representative.

***
Dear Senator Warren,
In light of recent allegations and ongoing concern about foreign meddling in the U.S. Electoral process, and in light of concerns that President-Elect Trump may, in effect, be influenced by a foreign power--and in light of ongoing problems with the incoming administration regarding Hatch and anti-nepotism law violations--I strongly support your efforts to use every legal means to vet such appointees of the incoming administration as are subject to Senate confirmation, and oppose those who are unfit for duty.
You're a fighter, Betsy, and you're our voice. Please speak loud and clear.
Best,

***
Dear Senator Markey,

In light of recent allegations and ongoing concern about foreign meddling in the U.S. Electoral process, and in light of concerns that President-Elect Trump may, in effect, be influenced by a foreign power--and in light of ongoing problems with the incoming administration regarding Hatch and anti-nepotism law violations--I strongly support your efforts to use every legal means to vet such appointees of the incoming administration as are subject to Senate confirmation, and oppose those who are unfit for duty.

We believe in you, Ed. You have our voice. Be loud with it.

Best,

muppetology need bears fozzie & kermit

see the city's backside

INT: BEDROOM: 8:00 AM
MONKEY rolls over and yawns, hugging a pillow.

ENTER SEMI-FERAL NINJA PRINCESS QUEEN EXILED FROM BEYOND THE MIRROR DIMENSION, slowly sidling up the bed toward the visible hand. She flops down about 18 inches away from the monkey, back to her for plausible deniability, and headbutts the monkey's hand. 

SFNPQEfBtMD: Pet me, Horrible Ape.

Monkey: Whifrlequiddlers?

SFNPQEfBtMD: I said, pet me.

Monkey: Oh, good morning, Molly.

SFNPQEfBtMD: I didn't say you could look at me.

Monkey: *scritches*

SFNPQEfBtMD: *purrs*

ENTER THE SMART ONE, with self-possession and confidence. He flops down between the current petter and pettee.

At the bottom of the bed, ACTION DORK CAT snores.

The Smart One: Pet me too.

MONKEY resignedly frees other hand, pets both cats simultaneously.

ALL PURR

SFNPQEfBtMD: Oh my god, Gurney, your butt is so dirty.

The Smart One: I DO NOT CONSENT! I DO NOT CONSENT!

A Flurry Of Activity Ensues. SFNPQEfBtMD vacates the premises. The Smart One flops down facing away from the monkey for more pets.

Monkey: Oh, my god, Gurney, she wasn't kidding about your butt.

The Smart One: *Harrumphs and gets up to leave.*

The Smart One: Oh my god, my butt.

SFNPQEfBtMD: *Wanders back over, notices that the monkey's hands are free.*

SFNPQEfBtMD: Pet me.

Monkey: Don't you lick my fingers. I just saw where your tongue has been.

SFNPQEfBtMD: [Primly] Brothers are always dirty. 

Action Dork: [Waking up, blearily] Whifrlequiddlers? Oh, hey, petting. All right, then.



 

Jan. 6th, 2017

muppetology animal deadlines

that's me in the spotlight

Karen woke me up at 5:45 this morning in order to write down two pages of draft introducing a villain and including the sentence, "Managing a person as needs managed is like managing a horse with no manners."

So I wrote 500 good words before dawn this morning, and feel like Hemingway. Of course, it was 500 words of a book that's not under contract, when I have four unfinished books that are.

A thin, dry snow is falling, and it's time to wake up now, and cuddle kittens, and to do the work I am actually supposed to be doing.

Jan. 5th, 2017

bear by san

and these memories lose their meaning

My muse is apparently back from a long vacation and feeling a little manic and eager to get back to work.

And it's really nice to have my creativity suddenly flooding back, and be so full of ideas and bits of dialogue and stuff just being handed to me, after literally years of having to go out, as Jack London said, and get it with a club.

But I do kind of wish she'd stop being quite so "LOOK IMMA LET YOU FINISH THE ACTUAL WORK YOU NEED TO DO TO PAY THE MORTGAGE BEAR BUT HEY FIRST STOP A MINUTE AND WRITE DOWN THESE TWO BITS OF DIALOGUE FOR TWO DIFFERENT KAREN STORIES AND ALSO THIS IDEA AND HEALTH DEPARTMENTS AND DRAGONS PLEASE."

I've actually been working on reorganizing my notebook-keeping tactics in order to deal with the sudden flood.

I guess I'm back.
bear by san

(no subject)

I'm trying an experiment with Ancestral Night and its voice.

Usually, when I write a novel, what I do a lot of in the early chapters is work out, integrate, and assume a voice. It could be a character voice--Karen Memery, Jenny Casey--or it might be a genre/setting voice: The Stratford Man's Nature Identical Elizabethan Flavoring, for example, or the high fantasy tone of the Eternal Sky.

This book is just me. Basically, the same narrative voice I use in my blog. Just, you know, a couple hundred years from now.

It's interesting, actually, because it gives me access to the full range of the narrative tricks. And in Haimey, I'm writing a character who is closer to me in what she cares about and how she thinks than anybody since Matthew Szczgielniak.

Weird to kind of take the puppets off and do the story with bare hands.

And now, a little bit of administrivia, and then back for another thousand words.
bear by san

i see a love that money just can't buy...

Patrons-only post over on the patreon includes the poem draft that I wrote at 2 am this morning, when I should have been sleeping.

Also, some notes on my Christmas cactus, which is blooming now, so tanaise says it's an Epiphany cactus, and hey, every once in a while, we all need an epiphany.

Jan. 4th, 2017

bear by san

sequence of events:


  1. Discover burned out microwave light

  2. Fuck around for two months

  3. Get screwdriver, remove light cover

  4. Remove burnt out light

  5. Discover no appropriate lightbulbs in house

  6. Order lightbulbs

  7. Leave light cover and screw on counter for four days

  8. Open package of ordered lights

  9. Install light

  10. Discover cover is greasy.

  11. Set screw down on gray and black granite counter

  12. Wash cover

  13. Put cover on light

  14. Cannot find screw

  15. Cannot find screw

  16. Cannot find screw

  17. Cannot find screw

  18. Go to toolshed, get thing of random screws

  19. Try similar size screws

  20. Find one that nearly fits

  21. Install light cover

  22. Take care of other household tasks

  23. Tell scott_lynch funny screw story when he gets up

  24. Sit down to tell internet funny screw story on laptop at kitchen counter

  25. Spot missing screw ten inches away on countertop



Yes, my counter needed cleaning. It was on the list. 

Jan. 2nd, 2017

criminal minds fate

don't don't don't let's start. i've got a weak heart.

Holy shit, how did I forget to listen to TMBG for so damned long? That was a terrible idea.

It's amazing how having kittens gives me something to blog about again. The giant ridiculous dog is wonderful and adorable and my best friend and walking buddy now that he's too old to run*, but he is a creature of steady habits, especially at the age of 11, and doesn't give me much to comment on: "Today we went for a walk and played kickball for ten minutes and pooped twice and had breakfast AND dinner AND cookies AND a piece of cheese, were teased by the cats, had a series of profoundly satisfying naps and were interested in a squirrel, briefly."

It's a dog's life. One day is pretty much like the next and they're not always noteworthy. Except when the ice hurts his poor feet, or I expect him to go outside and pee in the wet like some kind of barbarian, or he has the best day of his life and gets within six inches of actually catching that damned fat squirrel.

Six inches, Zack! I would have had him!

Kittens are still having adventures.

This morning's adventures started at 6:30 (roughly) with me getting up and realizing that there were no kitten noises in the usual places and no kittens on the bed, or in the guest bedroom where they sometimes hang out, depending on the availability of local sunbeams and the phase of the moon and other Important Kitten Reasons.

I walk down the hall to the bathroom. The bathroom is also where we feed kittens, and as soon as I entered its sacred precincts, I had two boy kittens on my heels. 6:30 am is not, however, the time of the feeding. We're not naive about what the result would be.

The boy kittens stayed in the bathroom. I walked back toward the bedroom, and saw that a door that should not be open was open. A door that leads to the downstairs, and several non-kitten-proofed rooms full of potentially hazardous and/or breakable objects and furniture that one could hide under indefinitely. Not to mention house plants, great for chewing on and excavating around and peeing in.

I saw that beyond that door, there was a stairs. And on that stairs was a Molly, looking freaked out as only a feral kitten that is outside her comfort zone can look.

I went back, and shut the bathroom door with the boy kittens inside. And said to Scott, who was in the office typing, which is, after all, what we do for a living, "Houston, we have a problem."

We found her under a futon in the front room, which was fine, and which has a door that opens onto the front hallway, which the kittens DO have access to generally speaking and which has a second stair to the upstairs, which is designated kitten territory. We opened the door to the front hall and closed the door to the rest of the downstairs, and Scott went upstairs to make sure the door that had been left open accidentally was closed so there wouldn't be a second escape.

I lay down on my stomach and stuck my head under the futon.

"Hello, Molly," says I. "Surely you want to go upstairs?"

The freaked out look intensifies.

I offer her a Magic Finger. You know the one.

She looks at it like it's a snake.

"THAT'S A SNEK!" says her.

I make sure I am physically between her and the hiding places it would be harder to retrieve her from. Slowly, I reach out, with the Molly Approved (occasionally, maybe) back-of-hand petting gesture. (Sometimes you're allowed to use the grabby side of the hand, but not always. Because Apes are horrible, and also Grabby.)

Molly says, "YOU WANT TO GRAB ME!" and skitters away. (Her primary form of movement is still skittering, though there has been a certain amount of sauntering and scampering recently. She really is coming around.)

Fortunately, she skitters through the open door into the front hall.

And freezes. And looks around, stunned. SHE IS NOT LOST FOREVER. THIS IS HER HALL. SHE BOUNCES GLITTER BALLS DOWN THE STAIRS. She relaxes. Her ears perk up. She looks around some more.

"I KNOW WHERE I AM!" says her.

And then Scott said, from upstairs, "The light is green," and I had to close the hall door really quick to keep her from running away back into the room I was in in a panic because a Horrible Ape said something in a moderately loud conversational tone three rooms away.

But now she's on the bed ignoring me, though there were no Morning Cuddles today. Horrible Ape. This Was All Your Fault Somehow.

Such is life with a semiferal.

Gurney, meanwhile, is a toddler. A very sweet toddler, not a tyranty one (that's Duncan), but a toddler nonetheless.

Gurney has a best toy, which is Mousie. Now, there are many mousies in this house. There are three different KINDS of sisal mousies. There are five other sisal mousies that are identical in every way to Mousie, except for being less battered and chewed on, and still having feather tails. Also Mousie is bright pink and hardly rattles anymore, and the other ones are yellow, green, blue, grey, etc.

Mousie is the toy Gurney plays fetch with. It is the toy he carries around and talks to in low tones and crouches over and won't let the other kittens play with. Mousie is his Friend.

He likes to take Mousie up to the broad, flat surface of the credenza in the bedroom, and bat Mousie around.

Today, Mousie fell behind the dresser. This was at 7:20, when I had just gotten back into bed after the Molly Experience, and was planning a little more rest before work started.

TRAGEDY! YODELING! PAWS FORLORNLY REACHING INTO THE GAP BEHIND THE DRESSER!

Gurney is NOT a semiferal, and you can tell this because when something goes TERRIBLY WRONG, he looks around, finds the nearest monkey, and demands we fix it. Well, NOTHING would do except I go get a yardstick and a flashlight and retrieve Mousie. At 7:30 am.
And then, once retrieved, he had to take it and jump up on the credenza again and start playing with it right where he lost it before
Now, "But mousie wants to be here" is the excuse I'm getting for him and mousie being loud on the bookshelf that serves as my night stand.
Mousie is very inconsiderate.

Here, in the aftermath of the morning's great trauma, is a picture of Gurney and Mousie, and Molly and Duncan too:



Here, Duncan has liberated Mousie, and is teasing Gurney with it. The offending credenza is in the background:


Mousie is a very important member of our household, as you can probably imagine.




*(and I've had to quit, at least for a while, because of a really stubborn tendon problem in my right foot. So I'm giving it a year to fix itself and then I either decide I'm not a runner anymore, or I look into surgery. La.)

Jan. 1st, 2017

bear by san

there's a power in that division, in that hour of revision



How a professional do.

Except now I gotta write the damned thing.
writing gorey earbrass unspeakable horro

tell 'em that it's human nature.

It's Patrons only, but the rough draft of the first scene of Rook and Ruin is up at my Patreon here.

You guys, I'm so excited about this story.

Dec. 31st, 2016

bear by san

stories break like branches in the cold

Well, that's sort of a draft, ish, of Rook and Ruin.

If it keeps that title. Who knows?

32,000 words, and the denouement is a bunch of pieces on the floor, two of the characters need to grow a real relationship, and there's one scene left to write, but it's done enough for now.

Now I'm going to take a shower and put my pjs on.

Dec. 30th, 2016

comics invisibles king mob

torturous waves. whisper from the grave.

Usually, my post-kitten morning routine goes like this:

Sometime between 6:45 and 7:20 am, I start to make moaning noises and twitch under the covers, as sunlight intrudes on the bedroom and I start to assume consciousness.

At this time, Gurney realizes that I am awake, and jumps up onto my shoulder or chest for cuddles. His brother Duncan soon follows, and eventually Molly turns up as well.

Today, when I rolled over, Duncan was on the foot of the bed, but the only kitten who wasn't too musy doing Important Kitten Things to come be petted was... the semiferal, Molly, who we have been working on for two months now to get her to accept being touched.

She settled cheerfully into the warm spot between Scott and me and started purring like a mad thing, poking my fingers with her paws, headbutting, and generally demanding to be cuddled and fussed over.

She was getting a bit pushier about getting her share of time and petting when the boys were climbing all over me, but this is the first time I've really been independently Molly-cuddled.

The boys showed up eventually, and then I had to spend about twenty minutes playing fetch with them (the boys play fetch, but only with specific toys. Duncan likes the plastic springs. Gurney has a particular sisal mousie that is HIS. It is the Best Mousie. Other mousies are mere shadows of the One True Mousie.)

Photo evidence of the amount of kitten fetch my life contains now:











Molly is not amused:



Or maybe she is. She has resting WE ARE NOT AMUSED FACE, so it's hard to tell.

Here are some cuddly boys:



I weighed the kjittens yesterday. With the boys, this just meant putting new batteries in the scale (they had worn out the old ones playing with the pretty lights), weighing myself, and then weighing myself plus each kitten. Molly, being semiferal, was a little more challenging.

I put the scale next to the food bowls and rattled the cat food bag. Once everybody was safely in the bathroom where the cats get fed, I closed the...

Molly, seeing the door close, MADE A BREAK FOR IT and ESCAPED. (I am a vile and perfidous Ape!) She slid through like MacGyver diving under a closing blast door, and I was left with two already-weighed boy kittens and their chorous of demand for crunchies. (Because our cats are mostly fed wet food, crunchies are a hardcore treat and in high demand around here.)

So I opened the door again and put food IN THE BOWLS this time.

Molly came trotting back and settled down by her bowl. (She has chosen the one closest to the door, natch, for fastest escapes.) I SHUT THE DOOR.

She was busy enough with the crunchies that she only glanced over.

She will allow herself to be petted while eating at this point, after long practice, as long as you make yourself small and don't loom over her (VILE TIPPY APE). So I crouched down on the scale, reached over, petted her, and very carefully lifted her six inches off the floor. Before she started to squirm, I managed to read the scale!

WIJKTORY!

Molly is 8 months, one week old (roughly) and 6.9 lbs. The boys are 6 months, 3 weeks old, and both are exactly 8 pounds. This keeps surprising me, because Gurney looks bigger--but he's long and rangy and very skinny, whereas Duncan is more compact.

And now, I need to go work on my novella. 
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