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bear by san

March 2017

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bear by san

It's wafer-thin

Normally, I don't find myself writing much about my personal life here. That's a conscious choice: writers are pretty boring, in general, and writers with a dayjob so they really never do anything but work are doubly boring. :-)

I woke up at 4:50 this morning. And started thinking "I have forty minutes before I have to get up for work." Lay there in the predawn planning my day and listening to the cats, who were doing Those Mysterious Early Morning Cat Things. Got up to get a drink of water. Realized oh.

Duh.

It's Saturday.

Got my water and went back to bed, but didn't fall back asleep until six. Which I think is when my body finally gave up on the conviction that it didn't need to stay on the edge of wakefulness because I had to get up and crawl into the shower any second now. The good new is, I slept till seven-thirty, and now I am making tea.

Interesting day yesterday: we had dinner at the Claim Jumper with a posse of English, Spanish, and Creative Writing teachers (my husband teaches high school, for everybody who DOESN'T know that) and I consider myself fortunate that I had soup and split three appetizers with the group rather than opting for an entree. More precisely, I had soup and one appetizer of my very own (seared ahi rolls... *dies of bliss*) and split the Irish Nachos and a soft pretzel with five others. I did not finish the seared ahi rolls, and they are in refrigerator, awaiting my attentions as soon as it gets late enough in the day for fish.

Moreover, I had to come home and change from jeans into BDUs. Because I couldn't breathe. Oi! Damn good thing I didn't order the surf-and-turf, what? ::rolls home::

Must... buy... secondhand... ski machine. (Or an elliptical trainer, for that matter.) There is no "walking" in the summertime in Vegas. All healthful exercise must be taken indoors, and for some reason I've lost my taste for yoga lately and am looking for the comfortable soothing repetitiveness of mile-after-mile of one foot in front of the other with the headphones on. A sure sign of life stress...

(Back with that ahi. and watercress. and jasmine tea, which should amuse britgeekgrrl. What, you say? That's not breakfast? Bah. My ancestors ate pickled herring, knacke, and akvavit for breakfast and liked it that way. Except for the ones who ate boiled potatoes and whiskey. Or borscht and vodka.)

(I was explaining to somebody last night that Northern countries have evolved such heavily alcoholic traditions because a) there's nothing to do when it's dark twenty-three hours a day and b) you don't feel the cold when you're drunk.)

(The other reason I don't talk about myself much is that I tend to digress.)

And I get to go to my first Prom ever next Saturday. Hmmm. Wonder if I have anything to wear. (I went to my own junior prom as the photographer, and boycotted my senior prom. Spent it in Paula Trout's basement watching The African Queen and gorging on popcorn. A good time was had by all.) Chris has Prom Duty and asked me to be his date (sweet boy) and then the rest of the gang informed me that THEY were all going out for cheesecake beforehand. At the Cheesecake Factory.Um. Sold. Do I have a very loose formal dress? *g*)

Man, that was self-indulgent, and the ahi's all gone.

Let's see. In other news, I'm trying to explain to a dear friend that I love her book, but I think it has structural issues that are undermining a strong story, and hoping she doesn't hate me. I'm trying to finish Scardown and meanwhile trying to convince myself that I really need to write The Stratford Man next, even though it scares me because a) I hate in-depth historical research where you will ALWAYS get something wrong and b) I don't want to get stuck writing historical fantasies, because they annoy me. So I may alt-hist it a bit, and maybe even put it into the Garrett universe, except as a true alt-hist (with historical characters, in other words). Meanwhile, Garrett is campaigning to become a novel rather than a series of linked shorts. I really need to learn not to let my protags get laid: it makes them uppity.

But at least it would be third-person single POV. :-)

~1600 words on Scardown last night, and I have ideas for three more short stories--or two shorts and a frelling novella--clogging my head. Which would be just fine if...

...I didn't already have more shorts out there making the rounds than I have markets for.

(The resharpened "Wax" goes to Asimov's as soon as he bounces whatever the hell he has now. "Stella Nova," I think. Which I should try out on Scifi.com...maybe it's time for a gut-and-refit on that one too. :-) Maybe my skills have improved.)

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