• Mood: sleepy
• Music: NPR, a purring cat who wants to know when I'm turning off the winter

If you believe there's nothing up my sleeve, then nothing is cool.

Scalzi on his Hugo-nominatin' thought process. 

Mine's much less organized.

Because galeni asked what of mine might be eligible for the nominating, anent: an award eligibility roundup post. I woke up exceedingly groggy this morning (woke up half an hour before my alarm and as I was snuggling in the warm darkness with my cat fighting for an inch of unclaimed pillow, I must have fallen back asleep, because when the alarm went off I was under a pile of REM atonia and first, could not move, and then was stumbling and zombielike for a good ten minutes. Man, nothing like being chemically dependent on those damned neurotransmitters) so bear with me, please.

Published (by me) in 2006:

novels:

The Chains that you Refuse, (Night Shade)which includes several previously unpublished stories (the best of which mostly confused a lot of people. *g*)
Blood & Iron (Roc)
Carnival (Bantam Spectra)

short fiction:

short stories:

"Los Empujadores Furiosos" (On Spec)
"Sounding" (Strange Horizons.)
"Ile of Dogges" (with Sarah Monette) (Aeon 7)
"The Inevitable Heat Death of the Universe" (Subterranean)
"The Cold Blacksmith" (Jim Baen's Universe)
"Gone to Flowers" (Eidolon, Eidolon Books, Jonathan Strahan & Jeremy G Byrne eds.)
"Love Among The Talus" (Strange Horizons)


novelettes:

"Wane" (Interzone)


novellas:

"Lucifugous" (Subterranean)

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And now I will go hide under my pillows.

Actually, I won't, because I have to figure out what, exactly, Rien just nearly stepped in. Or write this other scene, In Which Dust Is Sinister. And having slept on them does not seem to be helping.

Come on, brain. Kitty needs a new litterbox.