My flight home is at four this afternoon. I wonder if the dogs have given me up for dead yet? I'm sure the cats have co-opted my chair.
netcurmudgeon assures me that Phred the PC has been successfully Frankenputered and is underway to me by return post. (This is Phred mark VII at this point, I believe.) Which means, when it arrives, all I need do is restore my data, and I will have shiny nearly-new computer. Once I get relocated (original typo: "relovated") to civilization, I'm buying a bigger monitor. Or possibly a spiffy two-monitor setup, so I can compare pages of text more conveniently. Split screen editing is the suck.
In other news, truepenny and I are back in the saddle on A Companion to Wolves, the squicky sexually malajusted Fuzzy Talking Animal Companion Wish-Fulfillment Fantasy. We might even get it finished soonish, if we get butch about it. Also, at least two short stories brewing, possibly three, and I keep getting plot points and snippets of dialogue for Carnival. (Yes, I am still on vacation. Haven't written a word of new fiction since November. Have done some revising, though. ACtW was on the list of things that Might Get Done before "International write your bleeping elfy book month," which is of course May, and the slated start date for Whiskey & Water. And so were short stories.)
Actually probably only about a third or two fifths of ACtW to go yet. First fifty pages of Whiskey & Water are written, but it still needs large chunks of plot and character motivation before it can become A Book. Carnival is flirting with me. The main characters--Michelangelo (insert long lineage name here) Kusanagi-Jones, Vincent Katherinessen, and Lesa Pretoria (Why yes, cpolk, I did steal your Adroan naming convention for the New Amazonians)--are becoming fairly well-defined. The haunted city of Penthisilea, however, needs a fair amount of work. I still don't know what it looks like, or how it feels, exactly.
Instead of plot, they're giving me cute snippets of banter and dialogue. Which, while amusing, may not be precisely useful.
Kusanagi-Jones: "What possesses anyone to name a planet 'New Amazonia,' though?"
Pretoria: "Your culture does tend to assume that women must necessarily be humorless, don't they?"
Dunno. Mamas, don't let your babies grow up reading Joanna Russ and Suzy McKee Charnas. It gives us the irrational urge to riff on '70's feminist SF thirty years too late.
Things to do this year: Finish A Companion to Wolves, Carnival, and Whiskey & Water, at least to submission drafts. Write some freaking short stories. Read everything I can get my hands on. Get the heck out of Nevada. Sell things.
Sounds doable, right?