The song of the wood thrush: it’s entrancing, enchanting--and nourishing? Consider the case of Brian Blessing, the new music teacher at Powell Middle School. Maybe being a music teacher had something to do with it, or maybe not. Maybe it would have worked out the same for you or me, if we’d been in Brian’s position (God willing, we’ll never be in Brian’s position).

And that position was, bundled into Allan Wilson’s car, with one of Allan’s brothers on either side of him, headed for the spur of track that serves the sawmill. There Allan intended to make Brian understand, in a visceral way, that it was a bad idea for Brian to flirt with, let alone go out to dinner with, Allan’s ex-wife Marnie, who taught seventh grade in the classroom next to the music room.

Just when it was seeming that assault and battery might progress to homicide, a police car turned onto the sawmill access road, spooking the Wilson brothers, who shoved Brian into a decrepit shed beside the tracks and took off.

Back in town, no one knew what had happened to the music teacher, and as for Brian himself, even when he managed to find his way back to consciousness, he couldn’t muster the strength to lift himself up, and his broken jaw and cracked ribs precluded the sort of loud hollering that might possibly have caught someone’s attention, if they had happened to be walking along the spur line behind the sawmill.

So Brian lay in that shed all night, and all the next day, and the following night, and the day after that. No food, no water. Several times a day the shed shook as railroad cars loaded with lumber rolled from the spur line to the main tracks. The rest of the time, Brian could hear the sounds of the sawmill’s operations--and birdsong. From before the sun rose, cardinals and song sparrows, catbirds and starlings, robins and orioles. And the wood thrush. Adrift in a sea of pain, Brian clutched at the wood thrush’s song. It soothed his wounds and thirst like springwater; it filled him and satisfied him like bread.

Finally, five days after the Wilsons had grabbed him, Brian was discovered, a delirious wreck, so the medics first assumed, when Brian tried to tell them how he had subsisted on thrushsong, and yet at the hospital the doctors confirmed that he was not dehydrated. His blood sugar levels were normal, and there were no ketones present. Very strange, everyone agreed.

Brian was never quite the same after that, and I’m not talking about the limp. I’m talking about his diet. He’d always bring a sandwich to school for lunch, often something from Subway. But during the green months, from May to September, if you caught him at home in the early morning or around suppertime, you’d see him sitting outside, facing the trees, an empty plate balanced on his knees and an empty mug in his hand, listening to the wood thrush.


photo by Lloyd Spitalnik

People in need--unfortunately, those seem to be on the increase. green_knight wants work, as she's getting freelance biz off the ground. Here's the post. I personally recommend her translation skills from English into German. She also scanned three of my novels and converted them to text files for me to work with.

I would totally watch an Avengers sequel consisting of 100% Iron Man and Bruce Banner sciencewank.

I bicycled from home to Bryant-Lake Bowl this morning, taking the Midtown Greenway. Greenway = AWESOME. Half an hour to Uptown through wildflowers, gardens, between old restored warehouse and manufacturing buildings, birds singing, kids playing soccer at Kix Field, and no automobile traffic. My legs were a mite wobbly when I got back, and I was sweaty as a sweaty thing, but I was also full of exercise and self-determination endorphins.

And what I went to Bryant-Lake Bowl for was the monthly Fiber Brunch, which I've been meaning to get to for, well, months. Doreen runs a terrific get-together. And we had extra big fun, because the cast of the Princess Bride Drinking Game show asked if they could use the theater stage to rehearse. Of course we warned them that we could all recite entire scenes, but would try to contain ourselves. They were terrific, and lots of fun to knit to. ("Inconceivable! *drink!*)

Now I'm having a beer. Because that's what you do after a bike ride.

I tell you, my friends list contains some incisive essayists. barry_king defines society, colonialism, and culture to explain where we find corrosive tensions and where we find fruitful ones. Essay is here

I am always present but not always here.

To those who are wondering when the responses to Mythic Delirium submissions are coming, I am whittling away at them slowly. Setting a precise date of when I will get back to everyone is at the moment a bit of a fool's game, as I'm juggling a number of projects wherein I play the roles of both dog team and sled driver.

If I could have my way, by the end of the month, I would have the second draft of the secret novel done (this if I can help it actually will be done, as there is a real deadline in place,) have the 110+ submissions to this issue all sorted (next priority, for certain,) have my next "Tour of the Abattoir" column turned in (it's at least half done), launch the Clockwork Phoenix 3 and Sleepless, Burning Life e-books (progress has been made, thanks so much Liz!) and set up the fund raising campaign for my next stab at an anthology (June or bust, dammit.)

Obviously, at least one of the mes involved is sure to blow the deadline — likely more than one — and the me in charge will have to deal with these mes harshly to ensure said mes do a better job with time management next time. (As if.)

#amwriting #loveanddeath #thankyoufred

The Flogging Molly show was a hoot. I had a great time. Lots of men in kilts. Alas, I didn't pinch a single one. (Dane wasn't there with me. So, it wouldn't have been as much fun.) But lots of eye candy to be had. The music was great. Got to meet a friend of a friend who was really nice. The venue was fantastic. The only downer was when a drunk guy grabbed my hair. Three times. This, after I'd already voiced my displeasure the first time. Okay, bozo. I get that you like long hair. Yes, my hair is thick and wavy. Still, not yours. Do not touch. Geez. Other than that, it was one of the best experiences I've had at a live show in a long time.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow - they're all Sunday. And I shall be looking at manuscripts and manuscripts and manuscripts*. My deadlines have switched around a bit unexpectedly. The old ones don't reassert themselves until Monday.



*of the Gillian variety, not of the Medieval variety.

So this coming Thursday night I go off to Madison, WI for Wiscon. If you're in the neighborhood, find me here:

Saturday, 2:30-3:45
Klutz! And Dragons! Room 611 Pat Murphy and Madeleine Robins
What's it like to work at Klutz? Two SF writers will tell you, and show how to make paper dragons.

Saturday, 4:00-5:15pm
Girl Cooties: Considering the Romance Novel Assembly Heidi Waterhouse, Susan Marie Groppi, Jim Leinweber, Megan, Madeleine E. Robins
There is a lot of internalized misogyny in how we talk about romance novels and other popular writing directed at women, such as chick lit. Let's talk about why we seem to feel so conflicted about works written by and for women. Is there value in romance? Can a romance be a version of the hero's journey? Do you read romance novels? Or do you wonder why anyone calling herself a feminist would do so?

Sunday, 1:00-2:15pm
Reading: Woman Up! Conference 2 Eileen Gunn, Pat Murphy, Madeleine E. Robins, Nisi Shawl
This is the sequel to "Hot Desert Dames," which provided dessert as well as hot dames and the random guy. Featuring Pat Murphy, Eileen Gunn, Nisi Shawl, and Madeleine Robins. Will still provide dessert. Or, at least, chocolate!

Monday, 10-11:15a
Children in Danger in SF&F Senate B Michael Marc Levy, Tuppence, Madeleine E. Robins, Jenny Sessions, Ibi Zoboi
Panelists will discuss perilous settings for child protagonists in YA and adult science fiction and fantasy in recent years. Examples including Katniss in The Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Bella in Twilight, and dark action-driven retellings of fairy tales.

The SignOut (scheduled)

Not to mention the Tiptree Auction, and the bar(s), and wandering down the street looking for popcorn or good Nepalese food. If you see me, say Hi!

So a while back I got hooked on Game of Thrones (sorry, people who are sick of it *sheepish look*) and that's really my only excuse for this post. That and my habit of sticking Shakespeare quotes onto everything.

Many thanks as well to gehayi and lareinenoire for helping pick out the quotes I used. :) All of them are freely usable -- that's what they're for, after all! I like credit/comments but I'm not going to, like, hunt you down or something (even though it would be in the spirit of the show to do so).

( 32 Game of Thrones icons with Shakespeare quotes )

And because there are a lot of not-that-instantly-recognizable quotes in here, I did make up a guide to them. I was going to give you line numbers, but most online sources don't have them and I didn't want to spend the entire evening poring over a hot Riverside, so I got lazy. I totally recommend Open Source Shakespeare for all your Shakespeare searching needs, though. :)

( sources of the quotes )

Last night was a bit of a washout. I got some things done and then health caught up with me. As it does.

This morning, I sorted my scarves and hats and belts. I went through a belt phase in the 1970s and early 80s and a scarf phase from the 70s until the early 90s and the thief spread things all over and I had put them back higgledy-pigglety. Yesterday I spent some of my insurance money on a big plastic tub and I did a big sort. Some of my scarves will go to Folkdance Canberra, and the remaining scarves and belts fit into the plastic tub and are now safely under my bed. The purses and most of my hats now fit on the shelf and I have a drawer for miscellaneous things (a 1960s mantilla, swimming costumes, winter hats). This is as neat as I get, I'm afraid.

Now that's solved, I want to get back to deadline stuff. But I want coffee, first. Before that, though, I have a load of laundry to put on the airer. Today is the day for much housework. If the smoke clears enough, I might be able to put the rubbish out this afternoon. Then my place will be almost inhabitable for a week! Also, I'll have run out of distractions and will have no choice but to work.

ann_leckie has a wonderful extended metaphor in story form to explain how it all works: entry here.

1. The nice thing about having a husband who bakes is that he buys new cookbooks and uses them. Last night he made the best cornbread EVAH: real corn, and *bacon*. Yum. I told him he should make this cornbread for Thanksgiving dinner and he said he might forget which recipe it was by then. I doubt that he will, because he will be getting frequent requests for that cornbread.

2. I married a genius. He fixes things in the house.

3. I've been going back to my chiropractor again, due to my hip bothering me (probably as a result of compensating for the sore knee -- I hear that song in the background and refuse to let it earworm me. I refuse!). My chiropractor is Lisa Devlin in Mountain View, and she's fabulous. Not only has she helped my knee, she noticed (well, it's pretty obvious) how my muscles seize up and has been working on getting them to relax. It's working. I'm still not out of the woods, but I'm walking farther and more easily. I shall continue to see her.

4. The hip bone's connected to the thigh bone.... No! Refuse!

5. Chaz has a story in the new anthology The Touch of the Sea which just came out. It has gay pirates! a giant floating turtle! mayhem! mystery! It's probably my favorite of his short stories so far.

6. Do giant floating turtles have hip bones?

7. Does anyone have a recommendation for a backyard barbecue grill? Anyone know a place having a sale? Since we have a back yard, a grill seems required, especially given that there's a real cook living here.

The bullfrogs are twanging, like bass rubber bands, in the wide, still drainage ditch by the supermarket. Their big heads poke up from the muddy water.

All along that ditch, broken trees are in thick leaf, because even when a tree is as broken as this...



...it can still make leaves and flowers. Here are the flowers of the broken tree photographed above:



And here, some fairy glamour from the meadow...

Am going to see Flogging Molly tonight. Can't wait. I think this will be my first concert in three years. It'll be the first time I've seen them, although they've played Austin at least four or five times. Like many of the bands I like, they keep waiting until I'm flat broke to show up and/or selling out. Obviously, music shows aren't a huge priority for me. (Mostly I'd rather not deal with the crowds.) But Celtic music is a lot of fun live and this is Celtic punk/rock. So, I'm in. Dane isn't going. So, I'll be on my own for the most part. Hopefully, a few of you will be there too. Maybe? :)

The Kindle price on my Spice Brief "Under Her Uniform" has dropped to USD 2.51 (from $2.99).

Ever since Sarah Chorn (Bookworm Blues) asked me to write for her month long blog series Special Needs in Strange Worlds, I've been thinking on the subject in general. (A very good thing, that.) Yesterday after I'd finished writing for the day, I found myself tuning in to the History channel on cable and quilting for a bit. (I'm going to finish that star quilt very soon.) Sewing by hand is very zen. It helps me empty my brain and be quiet inside. A little like kung fu or meditation. Anyway, a program popped on about mysteries within history. They had a segment on Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He's one of my favorite presidents to be honest. I think he did amazing things for this country -- things that continued to shore up the foundation of America long after he died, and hopefully (once the jack-asses stop screwing around with bullshit programs that don't work [cough] austerity [cough]) will again. He was an amazing person. He was also mobility impaired. According to history, FDR contracted polio at age 39 and that was what caused his paralysis. I always thought that a little odd. Poliomyelitis is mostly known as a childhood disease. The program last night postulated that FDR actually suffered from Guillain–Barré syndrome. Either way, FDR is a terrific example of someone in history who was disabled and yet, forged on. He hid his disability, by the way. He probably wouldn't have been elected president had he not done so. (Which is awful.) And the public didn't know of the extent of the problem until after he'd passed away. (These days that'd never happen. The press would've leaked it on day one of the election and used it against him.) Anyway, it started me thinking about characters in fiction, and how I might squeeze that into the current project. It's already a major theme in the novel, I just realized. (Nels, the main character, doesn't have magic -- at least not the kind that everyone else in his position has.) All in all, very inspiring. I love when this shit happens.

....that there's going to be an Annual Booksale when I get back from WisCon, as there are giant boxes of books all over my house again.

You have been forewarned!

Also, I will be doing an r/Fantasy (that's Reddit) Ask Me Anything on June 5th. Questions may be posted all day in the appropriate thread, and I will answer them in the evening.

Because y'all don't get enough of a chance to listen to me babble...

I am very splat & having thermoregulation issues a-gain, so will be flaky on replying to anything, but rose_lemberg said to post this so here it is XD



This picture came about cause I was tired of multiple aspects of visual representation of South Asian characters.
1) They all seem to be skinny
2) They're mostly pale & with generic(Euro) features
3) They all seem to wear sad excuses for saris that are basically Victorian underwear plus a bit of gauze
4) Steampunking them up seems to often involve adding leather while keeping markers that say these are period brahmins wtf

So I drew someone who could be my period cousin :)

She should get a story once I'm doing better. I know some of it, but need to do research.
Also her sari is anachronistic & will have to be made more period once I have done said research.

Over here, blairmacg has a post about writing, workshops, and putting off* something you really want. Anyone considering Viable Paradise (or even if you weren't, but have been wanting in depth feedback to help you figure out why you aren't breaking up to that next level) take a look.

Re writing, sometimes I can't help wishing that another white fire would take over my life. Maybe I'm too old for that kind of single-minded crazy. And from the distance at the other side, the intensity of the experience didn't necessarily translate out to a successful piece, that is, equally intense for a reader. Only one of my less-than-ten white fires has had its mild success. I guess it's akin to falling instantly and wildly 'in love' to discover that nope, it was just chemistry, not real love, and the giddy joy inside from the outside looked like a tongue-hanging, crazy-eyed dork from the outside. Then it took more than ten years for the fallout to settle so the things could get a second draft. In a couple cases, twenty. (In one, thirty, but that one hasn't hit print yet.)

I enjoy all my projects (duh, or I wouldn't do this) but I crave that freefall again.

Enough whining, back to work!


*for reasons other than being dead, flat, stony broke.

I realized yesterday how whiny I've been, so today I am going to come up with 5 good things that are happening.

1.  It is Friday and I am wearing a new shirt, which I allowed myself to buy because of I got rid of some old shirts.  It is made of cotton gauze and is mauve, fuchsia, lavender, and purple paisley on a buff background, which tones it down quite a lot.  Even though it has 3/4 length sleeves, the fabric is thin enough I'm hoping I can wear it all summer.

It was 2/3 off from original price on clearance, plus I got the little discount for using a Macy's credit card, plus I got an extra 25% off of that.  The shirt is of course three times as nice to me because of the cheapness, because getting something nice for cheap makes me feel clever.

2.  When I buoght the shirt, I also got a pair of nice jeans on clearance - AND they did not require hemming.  Now when the three pairs of my jeans with rapidly thinning inner thigh fabric rip, I will be prepared!

3.  I have tickets to see a film of the National Theater Jonny Lee Miller/Benedict Cumberbatch Frankenstein stage play on June 10th with <lj-user="drinkingcocoa"> - it's the version with Cumberbatch as The Monster.  <a href="http://www.brynmawrfilm.org/films/?id=577">Information here if you are local and interested in seeing it - there's also a June 6 screening.</a>  So excited.

4.  I passed 100 manuscript pages on my current project.  That's always a lovely milestone.  This weekend, I will add more pages.

5.  Finally, a magnificent accomplishment:  I got my dry-cleaning done!  Winter coat (the faux-shearling one, Poor Baby Polyesters Sacrificed in Their Bloom; trench coat; linen blazer; red silk jacket.  I will not shame myself for saying how long the latter two have been hanging in the closet, waiting.  But now that is done.

Maybe this should be a meme.  Five Good Things.  I think we could all use some Good Things right about now.

...of Queen's Hunt is now online at Macmillan's site.

*does happy author dance*

My eyes look big and shadowed, largely because of the dental work. I don't know if the giant fillings coming out or if the anaesthetic used is the cause, but either way I get a reaction that takes a couple of weeks to fade. It's at its height now, which means I look impressively decadent. I shall watch suitable TV in between work, just to add to the decadence. I shall also take a hot bath with Epsom salts to speed the reaction along. It's not serious, but it's a nuisance.

I have 700 words to write before I can eat the rest of dinner, and then ten pages of close scrutinising (accompanied by screaming) before I'm allowed coffee. After that it's another ten pages of close scrutinising (on an entirely different document, which gets sent to my supervisor), a contract scanned and emailed, some financial stuff done, and then I'm finished for the night. A doddle. Nothing to it.

If I can get all this done tonight, then I have every possibility of getting through the weekend in fine style.

I'm looking blankly at my Facebook updates and sucking at an early-morning cheroot when an insistent knocking on my front door disturbs my reverie. Conscious of little beyond the shabbiness of my dressing gown, I unlatch the door to find an exhausted, desperate but curiously youthful woman on the step.

"What the—?” I begin, but she cuts me off.

"Quick!” she cries. “I am a young mum from your area who has discovered a cheap and effective way to fight the signs of ageing. You've got to hide me! The dermatologists are after me! The dermatol—”

She gets no further before a high-powered IPL laser shoots clean through the back of her head, emerging from her T zone. She falls at my feet, her face a bloody (though wrinkle-free) pulp...

You'd want to know more, wouldn't you? It seems to me that there's a great anthology of stories to be written based on pop-up ads (a pop-up book, if you will). After all, we all know that The Da Vinci Code was based on an email Dan Brown received from a Nigerian banker circa 2001.

But who will join me in this sure-fire moneymaking scheme? And which ads will you use?

1. The mojito cupcake at Kickass is not kidding. It is not quite truthful to say that we went promptly for lunch at Blue Shirt Café because I needed something in my system that wasn't rum and sugar, but it is not quite a stretch, either.

2. Following an interlude at Dave's Fresh Pasta in which some fresh pasta was purchased and some foodstuffs not commonly available in this country were stared at with respect (preserved lemons, lardo, condiments I didn't recognize), rushthatspeaks showed me True Stories (1986). I cannot overstate how much I love this film. Attempts to describe it will descend into incoherent flailing about John Goodman and Papa Legba and the Lawnmower Brigade. (The conspiracy theory revival meeting. The dueling auctioneers. The roaming tribe of children in their 4-H shirts, singing.) I may try anyway when I am less tired, but for the moment suffice to say that I would cheerfully rewatch it anytime, anywhere, and that may include right after watching it the first time. The one shortcoming: I have been informed there is no such thing as a good non-bootleg version of the soundtrack.

. . . I'm taking suggestions, internet.

3. After weeks of hiatus, Viking Zen and I finally managed to meet for Movie Night. The Legend of Korra is currently streaming for free on Nickelodeon's website. We watched the first three episodes. I am just going to geek out here, all right? There is all the development I wanted from the worldbuilding and more—the explosive cross-pollination of technologies and cultures (and genetics) that was inevitable from the finale of Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005–2008) means that the seventy years between series have taken the world from steampunk to a beautiful fusion of the 1920's and '30's with varying points of real-world origin, most visibly to me Shanghai, New York, and Hong Kong, but I'm sure there are allusions all over the place I simply don't have the knowledge to pick up on. There are characters wearing what trenchcoats would look like if they had evolved from hanbok. (Plausible extrapolation of clothing! Who does that?) I want the soundtrack—the music is a similarly alt-world version of big-band jazz. There are airships. There are elevated trains. There are slums and street food and media blitzes. The introductions to each episode of Avatar were spoken by a character who came from a culture that was not illiterate, but heavily invested in oral tradition; the recaps in Korra are newsreels. And it is an older show, more immediately violent than Avatar, more politically and emotionally complex. An obvious villain is spearheading a movement with an entirely legitimate and unaddressed grievance; the latter cannot be dismissed no matter how disturbing the actions of the former. Korra on her first day in Republic City takes down a trio of racketeers collecting their weekly protection money from a hard-up merchant and finds herself under arrest because, in the process, she completely trashed the street. She's not a diffident or an accommodating protagonist. She's aggressive, impatient, used to a prodigy's quickness and an Avatar's privilege; she tends to kick ass first and remember later that she should have been taking names. I find her a delight to watch, especially since the show is aware that her two-fisted naïveté is both problematic and endearing. There are odd resonances with Baccano (2007), probably because of the jazz and the frequent fight scenes; I found myself thinking that I wouldn't be at all surprised if Jacuzzi wandered into a crowd scene while Nice blew something up (and if someone vidded this, I would be so entertained). There is also a major character who was a gangland accountant when he was younger and I liked him even before that was revealed. I don't know most of the voice actors in this cast, but one of the secondary characters is voiced by Lance Henriksen. (I recognized him instantly. I am always glad he's working.) It is very clearly the same world as Avatar, the same creative team and the same attention even to written language—I can't read the newspaper headlines, but I'm sure someone else can and will; it is not the same show. So far, I really like the one it is.

Bed.

I grow cold. I grow cold. The bottoms on my trousers are rolled right now, right down.

It was zero when I left for the dentist at 8.30 this morning, and 12 when I returned. No more dental work for two weeks and that will be my last one in this epic set of procedures! Seung managed to fit in two crowns and a large filling today, which was impressive.

Today we talked science fiction and TV shows.

After everything was done, I did some shopping. Roast chicken for tomorrow's dinner. I will have enough and to spare should anyone be passing hungry or should anyone passing be hungry.

I've never met Mur Lafferty in person, and I'm looking forward to doing so at WorldCon in Chicago this year. We've been interacting on Twitter for a little while, and it's surprising how much we have in common. (For example, she's into martial arts, and her husband also works in the game industry.) Plus, like me, this is her first year of eligibility. Anyway, Mur is a lot of fun, has a great sense of humor, and I like her quite a bit. Here's hoping we're not thrown into a pit at WorldCon, given swords and then told there can be only One -- Highlander style. Because, you know, that would suck. Like, a lot.

Mur, how does it feel to be nominated for the Campbell Award?
Amazing and humbling. Big sense of "I don't belong here, but excited as hell to be here anyway!" 

I can so relate to that. Can you talk a bit about the work (2010-2011) which contributed to your nomination?
Although I've been releasing work via podcast and building an audience for years, my first pro sale didn't come until last year: a story in the anthology, Thackery T. Lambshead Cabinet of Curiosities - Jeff VanderMeer asked me to write a story from the POV of someone interviewing Dr. Lambshead, and I decided to write about Lambshead's hatred for Louis Pasteur and how he had developed his own flask to indicate how the more innovative bacteria travel.  

Where can your work(s) be found?
murverse.com, and if people want a bigger view of my writing, I'm giving away all of my ebooks for free on the site. 

What book did you read as a child that made you into a reader?
I'd love to be all sciffy and fanty on you here, but to be perfectly honest, I realized I was a voracious reader when my Beverly Cleary books started falling apart because I was rereading them so much.

I remember the Ralf the Mouse books. Great stuff, that. How did you learn how to improve your writing? Did you study writing in school or attend writer's workshops?
I took some creative writing courses in college, and attended Viable Paradise in 2006. I'm currently working on an MFA in popular fiction from Stonecoast (U of Southern Maine low residency writing program)

I like music quite a bit and so am going to ask the obvious. Do you listen to music while writing? If so, what kind?
Tom Waits and The Matrix soundtracks (all three- say what you will of the movies, but the soundtracks were great) are my favorite background music that doesn't distract too much.

And now for the fun question -- the one we're all waiting for... if you were a super villain, what kind of secret lair would you have?
Hm. I'm torn between the manor perched atop a mountain, overlooking a cliff that just begs for minions to be pitched over, or a simple cabin in the woods that's secretly access to an underground lair bigger than a city. Do I have to choose now? I think as long as I have minions, I'll be happy.

Thanks, Mur!
------------------------------
Hopefully, I'll be able to do a number of these before WorldCon. That way everyone can get extra exposure. Being nominated is quite an honor, and I feel that 2012's nominees are especially wonderful. (But maybe I'm biased. ;))

Look what the Book Elves left on my porch today!



You can get yours here.

Also, some other good news today, which I will share when I can.

Just a reminder: I'll be reading/signing at BookWoman in Austin, TX on Friday, May 25th at 7pm. Drop in if you can. It'd be great to see folks. I'll be reading from And Blue Skies from Pain and/or Of Blood and Honey -- depending upon the whim of those who show up. Hope to see y'all there.

Did I mention I updated the Beyond Harry Potter list for the first time in three years?


cross-posted from my fan lj

Some of you have found this already. (Good God! So this is what it's like to write in a currently popular fandom, even if not for the juggernaut pairing. I can only imagine how many people would read this by now if it was about Steve and Tony.) For those of you who haven't, I wrote a short story about Clint and Natasha (Hawkeye and Black Widow.)

Shortly after the end of the end of the movie, Nick Fury sends the two of them on a very easy mission, just to make sure everything's all right between them and Clint is fit for duty. The mission is a cakewalk. Some other things aren't. Rated PG; nothing more disturbing or explicit than is seen or implied in the movie. Cakewalk.

ETA: Oh, and if you've already read it, I have a theory about Natasha's greatest fear which was impossible to get into the story itself due to it being from Clint's POV. Ask if you're curious.

Crossposted to http://rachelmanija.dreamwidth.org/1038121.html. Comment here or there.

It don't rain but what it pours, am I right?

nth read = the whichever number of times I’ve read it
collection = all stories by one author
anthology = stories/articles by different authors
c = set in our current time
ed(s). = editor(s)
gn = graphic novel/comics
h = horror
hi = historical
alt hi = alternate history
nf = nonfiction
f = fantasy
sf = science fiction


Mainstream—Adult

Aravind Adiga, BETWEEN THE ASSASSINATIONS; THE WHITE TIGER (c India)
Martin Booth, HIROSHIMA JOE (hi)
Kathleen Cambor, IN SUNLIGHT, IN A BEAUTIFUL GARDEN (hi)
Barbara Cleverly: 4 hi mysteries, India, early 1920s: THE LAST KASHMIRI ROSE, RAGTIME IN SIMLA, THE DAMASCENED BLADE, & THE PALACE TIGER
Anita Diamant, DAY AFTER NIGHT (hi)
Barbara Hambly, RAN AWAY (Benjamin January hi mystery, 1830s New Orleans)
Barbara Hamilton (a pen name for Barbara Hambly), two Abigail Adams mysteries: A MARKED MAN and SUP WITH THE DEVIL
Charlaine Harris, SWEET AND DEADLY (mys)
Karen Maitland, COMPANY OF LIARS (hi)
Sharyn McCrumb, THE DEVIL AMONG THE LAWYERS (hi mys in the Appalachians)
Robin Oliveira, MY NAME IS MARY SUTTER (hi)
Robert Parker, SCHOOL DAYS (c)
Jodi Picoult, 19 MINUTES (xth read)
Marge Piercy, SEX WARS (hi, 1890s)
Erich Maria Remarque, ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT (hi)
Kathryn Stockett, THE HELP (hi, 1960s)
Indu Sundaresan, THE TWENTIETH WIFE (hi, India)
Sarah Waters, AFFINITY (hi, 1880s)
Farad Zama, THE MARRIAGE BUREAU FOR RICH PEOPLE (c, India)

Thrillers—adult

James Lee Burke, IN THE ELECTRIC MIST WITH CONFEDERATE DEAD
William Diehl, PRIMAL FEAR (3rd read)
Lisa Gardner, LIVE TO TELL, THE NEIGHBOR
John Grisham, RUNAWAY JURY (xth read)
John Hart, THE LAST CHILD
Susan Hill, THE WOMAN IN BLACK (hi, ghost story to star Daniel Radcliffe)
Tami Hoag, NIGHT SINS
Elmore Leonard, PRONTO, RIDING THE RAP, WHEN THE WOMEN COME OUT TO DANCE (collection)—these star Deputy U.S. Marshall Raylan Givens, the main character of TV’s “Justified,” though this Raylan isn’t as handsome!
Chuck Logan, AFTER THE RAIN (xth read), HOME FRONT (xth read)
Robert McCammon, GOING SOUTH (c)

SF&F—Adult

Joe Abercrombie, BEST SERVED COLD (h)
Daniel Abraham, THE DRAGON’S PATH (f)
Sarah Addison Allen, GARDEN SPELLS, THE GIRL WHO CHASED THE MOON (c, f)
Ilona Andrews, BAYOU MOON (f)
Galen Beckett, THE MAGICIANS AND MRS. QUENT (f)
Beth Bernobich, PASSION PLAY (f)
Holly Black & Ellen Kushner, eds., WELCOME TO BORDERTOWN (anthology)
Edgar Rice Burroughs, A PRINCESS OF MARS (sf/f)
Mike Carey, THE DEVIL YOU KNOW (2nd read, f)
John Connolly (I re-read all of his Charlie Parker books one week this year): BAD MEN; THE BURNING SOUL; EVERY DEAD THING; NOCTURNES; THE DARK ANGEL; THE DARK HOLLOW; THE KILLING KIND; THE UNQUIET; THE WHITE ROAD
Rowena Cory Daniells, THE KING’S BASTARD, THE UNCROWNED KING, THE USURPER (f)
Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling, eds., THE COYOTE ROAD (anthology)
Kate Elliot, COLD MAGIC (f)
Pamela Freeman, BLOOD TIES, DEEP WATER, FULL CIRCLE (f)
Neil Gaiman, AMERICAN GODS (xth reading)
Barbara Hambly, BLOOD MAIDENS (h, vampire)
John Horner Jacobs, SOUTHERN GODS (h)
N. K. Jemisin, THE BROKEN KINGDOMS, THE ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND KINGDOMS (f)
Diana Wynne Jones, DEEP SECRETS (F, 2nd read)
Alma Katsu, THE TAKER (f)
Stephen King, 11/22/63 (time travel), THE RUNNING MAN (sf, xth reading)
Michael Koryta, THE CYPRESS HOUSE (h)
Mercedes Lackey, FIRE ROSE (f)
George R. R. Martin, A Song of Fire and Ice: A CLASH OF KINGS, A FEAST OF CROWS, A GAME OF THRONES, A STORM OF SWORDS (2nd read, f)
Robert McCammon, BOY’S LIFE, MR. SLAUGHTER, MYSTERY WALK, THE QUEEN OF BEDLAM, SINGS THE NIGHTBIRD (f)
Elizabeth Moon, KINGS OF THE NORTH (f)
Rachel Neumeier, LAND OF THE BURNING SANDS, LAW OF THE BROKEN EARTH, LORD OF THE CHANGING WINDS (f)
Daniel Polansky, LOW TOWN (f)
Michael Stackpole, TALION REVENANT (f)
Mary Stanton, ANGEL’S ADVOCATE, DEFENDING ANGELS (c, ghost, f)
Michelle West, THE HIDDEN CITY (f)


Nonfiction, graphic novels/comics, poetry

Karen Abbott, SIN IN THE SECOND CITY: Madams, Ministers, Playboys, and the Battle for America’s Soul
John M. Barry, RISING TIDE: The Great Mississippi Flood of 1927 and How It Changed America
Holly Black, Bill Willingham, Alisa Kwitney, Louise Hawes, Todd Mitchell; ill. By Rebecca Guay
A FLIGHT OF ANGELS (graphic novel)
Martin Booth, GOLDEN BOY (autobiography)
Frank Cammuso, KNIGHTS OF THE LUNCH TABLE: The Battling Bands (graphic novel)
Robert Graves, GOODBYE TO ALL THAT (autobiography)
Megan Kelley Hall and Carrie Jones, eds., DEAR BULLY: 70 Authors and Their Stories
Eric Larson, IN THE GARDEN OF THE BEASTS: Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler’s Berlin
Deborah Lipstadt, THE EICHMANN TRIAL
Lyn Macdonald, ed., ANTHEM FOR DOOMED YOUTH: Poets of the Great War
Daniel P. Mannix, MEMOIRS OF A SWORD SWALLOWER (autobiography)
Cameron McWhirter, RED SUMMER: the Summer of 1919 and the Awakening of Black America
Daniel Okrent, LAST CALL: the Rise and Fall of Prohibition

cross-posted to my fan lj

cross-posted from fan LJ

Better late than never? Yeah, that's what I thought. The adult list follows.

Books are Young Adult/Teen unless marked otherwise
Series books are in alphabetical, not publication, order


YR = Young Reader/Intermediate/Tween
nth read = the whichever number of times I’ve read it
collection = all stories by one author
anthology = stories/articles by different authors
b = male lead character/theme
c = set in our current time
ed(s). = editor(s)
gn = graphic novel/comics
h = horror
hi = historical
alt hi = alternate history
nf = nonfiction
p = paranormal
f = fantasy
sf = science fiction
v = novel in verse

Mainstream YA

Tara Altobrando, DREAMLAND SOCIAL CLUB (c)
Laurie Halse Anderson, FORGE (hi, b)
Olivia Bennett, THE ALLEGRA BISCOTTI COLLECTION (c) & WHO WHAT WEAR (c)—YR (so what if they’re silly?! They’re fun and they’re about fashion!)
Esther Friesner, THREADS AND FLAMES (hi)
Nancy Garden, ENDGAME (3rd read, c, b)
Gail Giles, DARK SONG (c)
Mary Downing Hahn, STEPPING ON THE CRACKS (hi)
Eva Ibbotsen, A COUNTESS BELOW STAIRS (2nd read, hi)
John Klassen (writer & illustrator), I WANT MY HAT BACK (picture book)
Kimberly Marcus, EXPOSED (v)
Kathy Ostlere, KARMA (v, c)
Cheryl Rainfield, SCARS (c)
Trent Reedy, WORDS IN THE DUST (c, set in Afghanistan)
Todd Strasser, GIVE A BOY A GUN (3rd read, b)
Mo Willems, DON’T LET THE PIGEON STAY UP LATE! (picture book)

Fantasy/SF—ya

Pam Bachorz, DROUGHT (sf)
Paolo Bacigalupi, SHIP BREAKER (sf, b)
Beth Bernobich, FOX AND PHOENIX (f)
Kendare Blake, ANNE DRESSED IN BLOOD (h, ghost story!)
Eric Buchanan, SMALL MAGICS (f)
Meg Cabot, CODE NAME CASSANDRA & WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES (first of the 1-800-WHERE-R-U series; 2nd read)
Sarah Beth Durst, DRINK, SLAY, LOVE (para); ENCHANTED IVY (f)
Alison Goodman, EONA (f)
James Gurney, DINOTOPIA (b) (a new release)
Mary Downing Hahn, LOOK FOR ME BY MOONLIGHT (f)
Jackie Morse Kessler, HUNGER and RAGE (f)
Caitlin Kittredge, THE IRON THORN (f, a female engineer)
Sophie Littlefield, BANISHED (thriller)
Melissa Marr, THE GRAVEMINDER (c, ghost story)
Melinda Metz, GIFTED TOUCH & HAUNTED (1st of the Fingertips series, 2nd reading)
Mike Mullin, ASHFALL (sf, b)
Sharyn November, ed., FIREBIRDS RISING (2nd read, anthology)
Delia Sherman, THE FREEDOM MAZE (time travel, f)
Sarah Smith, THE OTHER SIDE OF DARK (ghost)
Maggie Stiefvater, THE SCORPIO RACES (f, b)
Patricia Wrede, ACROSS THE GREAT BARRIER (alt hi)
Moira Young, BLOOD RED ROAD (sf)

Remember the houses made of Emily Dickinson's words? Well, it seems I will be able to interview their creator, so watch this space!

Meanwhile, I was back at his website, and I found a list of all the quotes. Wonderful treasure. With rearranging they could make a renga...

• Morning without you is a dwindled dawn
  
  
• Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door
  
  
• The soul should always stand ajar
  
  
• One need not be a chamber to be haunted
  

There are some surprising quotes that must come from letters rather than poems. I liked these:

• I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
  
  
• Dogs are better than human beings because they know but do not tell.

This one on death makes it sound like an adventure:

Dying is a wild night and a new road.

Then too, there are aphorisms for writers and other creative types:

• The Possible’s slow fuse is lit by the imagination.
  
  
• Luck is not chance, it's toil; fortune's expensive smile is earned.
  
  
• Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.

And this I loved:

Whenever a thing is done for the first time, it releases a little demon.

Anything else I had to say about the Criminal Minds season finale is subsumed in ZOMG Reid knitted it himself!

He makes a pretty good Four.

Also, I'm glad they did the Emily thing the way they did the Emily thing; it's good to see Will but he should have known better; I'm pretty sure that UNSUB plan fails on usual the Evil Mastermind overclever subroutine of relying on a coincidence they could not have known about in advance; I bet that's Kevin's cousin; Penelope needs a Stern Talking To of the variety she just gave Morgan a few weeks back; I'm still the only person in this fandom who likes Strauss, but dammit I still like Strauss; and FASTER JJ KILL KILL!

Discussion in comments of parallels between JJ in Hit/Run and Hotch in 100 is open for business.

The following contains discussion of fitness, health, and weight issues. If that is triggery for you, please page down now!

Ob. Disclaimer: I absolutely support anyone's right to live in their body as they choose, at any size they find comfortable. This is entirely about me, and my efforts to reclaim my health and strength after half a decade of abusing and neglecting my poor body.

---

Well, I'm wearing a pair of jeans that, based on the brand and cut, must date back to 1987 or so.

They're Chic, size 14 tall, and in high school they would have been baggy on me. Now, they fit loosely except for the waist, which is a bit snug--but then, that happened when I was sixteen, too, though the jeans were size 11 then. This is because eighties jeans were cut to fit absolutely nobody except a young Brooke Shields. They do, however, still make my ass look fantastic, a characteristic generally not shared by modern lower-rise jeans, which make nobody's ass look good. Not mine, not yours. Possibly Jessica Simpson's.

But they do let one bend at the middle without pinching one's ribcage on the waistband, which I suppose is a win.

I guess that means I am officially back in my high school clothes, generously speaking. As I also have a black bat-winged sheath dress from Chico's that I loved in high school, and have been hanging on to for sentimental reasons. I might dust it off for an eighties party later this year. If only I had some slouchy elf boots.

I suspect I will save the jeans for eighties nights at goth clubs. I think I still have one pair of slouchy socks hoarded away somewhere... ;-)

This is all prelude to saying that I'm hovering somewhere around 187, and have been for about a month now with the usual ups and downs--but I'm obviously building muscle, because I seem to be shrinking. At one point a month or so ago I noticed I had obliques, there under the slack middle-aged tummy. This week, I noticed the top set of ab muscles. Also, my thighs are no longer getting in my way during most of yoga--that stopped after scott_lynch and I walked somewhere around 40 miles in three days of NYC. I can do Hero's Pose and Lightning Pose without cheating now, and my body doesn't actually interfere with my ability to do a lunge anymore.

It's still getting in the way of twists, and my biceps interfere with Eagle Pose, but that's not new. I'm a solid girl.

I can also wear most of my beloved old corp-goth work clothes again, justifying my hoarding tendencies. Two suits are a bit tight, but they were always on the skinny end of the rack. I had to move the buttons back on a green suit I love, that I had expanded a bit when I was gaining weight. It's a size 12.

I am facing the surprising possibility of shrinking out of my wardrobe again. In any case, look for a much better-dressed Bear at conventions this summer, since I love these clothes and don't have a dayjob to wear them to anymore.

Curiously, I'm about 17 pounds heavier than the last time I fit in these clothes, which tells us about the power of rock-climbing. Muscle is heavy!

My current weight goal is somewhere in the neighborhood of 160 pounds. Which should make the same size, roughly, as when I was in high school and weighed 150-ish. I was on track and field then, and at my most muscular before now, but I'm pretty sure my upper body now dwarfs what I had then. (Shoulders! They're awesome!) Also, um. Boobs. Some cup sizes have come to roost since then. Ahem.

So I'm less than thirty pounds from my goal, which is very pleasant. My body is behaving as it should; everything physical is so much easier than it was in 2004, when I couldn't walk a half-mile without agonizing pain (now I can run five 12-minute miles back to back); and I'm enjoying the reduction in back and joint pain and the ability to sleep comfortably on my side or back again without feeling like my own belly is crushing me.

I seem to be part of a coterie of SFF writers and fans on the "get healthy the old-fashioned way; move more and eat less crap" bandwagon, which pleases me. (personally, I have been following the efforts of Scalzi, Doctorow, Lynch, Sykes, Downum, Silverstein, Connolly, Buckell, and I'm sure a few others whose names are eluding me because it's time for lunch.) It pleases me because I'd like to see a lot of these people around for a damned long time.

I'm also noticing changes in appetite, which tell me my body is adapting to its new lower caloric demands. Two whole pieces of fruit is too much to eat with lunch now; I am contented with half of each (plus some protein and vegetables and brown carbs, of course). (I eat a lot of fruit and vegetables, about ten servings most days; I've finally figured out how to reach my RDA minimum of potassium, and it goes like this: a cup of fortified cereal in the morning (Special K protein plus, since I can't find Total Protein around here anymore), half an orange, a small banana, eight ounces of green coconut water, and half a sweet potato. Some strawberries or mango don't hurt either, or some beans.))

For those who are curious about how I did it (my doctor was, and she laughed out loud when I said, "Counting calories, restricting sweets and saturated fat, and getting off my ass!" She then replied, "So doing all the boring shit we tell people to do, huh?"), here's my plan, fondly called The Discipline:

It's a refined version of the Hacker Diet, which relies on good old thermodynamics to make things happen. I'm keeping my caloric intake around 1700-1900 calories a day, exercising for about an hour a day on average, drinking lots of water and not too much caffeine, avoiding refined carbs (mostly: I get 100-200 calories of "treat" a day, which could be a glass of wine or a beer, or a brownie, or... PRO TIP: Guinness is lower in calories than most "lite" beers, and tastes a fuckload better. Now you know.), eating roughly twice as many vegetables as the FDA suggests, and trying to keep my protein intake around 20% and my fat intake around 25%--and also trying to keep my protein intake above 100g a day without too much reliance on red meat, or meat at all. (I do use protein supplements--whey and soy, mostly.) I eat a lot of high-protein dairy (skyr!) and I try to limit myself to 100-200 calories a day from refined sugar, which is roughly 20-40 grams. Or, well, half a can of non-diet Coke.

Managing sodium intake is a killer. But I'm working on it.

Sleeping eight hours a night also pisses me off, but it seems to be necessary. I got six last night, and noticed the difference on my run this morning--I kept having to walk up hills I normally cruise up in second or third gear.

I also exercise six days a week--usually two days of climbing (with a little yoga); three days of running; one day of yoga. I also try to get in some vigorous outdoor time when possible--kayaking, hiking, walking the dog. Walking to the store. Picking up my jump rope for five minutes on an otherwise sedentary day.

As I said, one of the most successful weeks of the Discipline recently was when Scott and I were on Manhattan, eating every goddamned thing in sight. But we also made a point of walking two-thirds the length of the island at least once (Riverside to Chinatown, with side trips), and we walked as much as time permitted, otherwise. I know it sounds like my fitness routine is crushing, and seven or eight years ago, it would have crushed me. (Hell, I had the pleasant experience recently of putting in a Rodney Yee video that, in 2006, I could do maybe fifteen minutes of, and having the full hour workout be only just pleasantly challenging.)

But remember, when I started out, I weighed 285-290 pounds and could not walk a half mile. One good habit builds on another, it turns out--and I find myself drinking more green and herbal tea because black tea doesn't taste good after the first mug, and I find myself not hungry for seconds unless the food is exceptionally good, and even then not always. There's not actually a lot of privation; I just want more of what's healthy for me.

It's okay if I have a measured ounce of cheese on my beans and rice, instead of as much as I can fit in the bowl. It still tastes just as good! Better, since it's as easy to afford small quantities of really delicious food as it is large quantities of sort of icky food. And far more satisfying.

Who knew?

Which is so different from all my old pathological ways of dealing with food and drink that it's a little croggling.

Most of this, of course, is just basic health maintenance stuff, and not too hard once you get the hang of it. And it's not like I don't give myself days off: I will in fact have two or three drinks on a night out, for example. I'm fully planning on onion rings after archery tonight when I get dinner with the Thursday Night Shooters.

Just... not too damned often. And budget for it.

It's not the extremes that set one's level of health; it's the baseline.

I am so tired, I spent all night dreaming about being unable to sleep.

I got out of bed and found my poems "Blueshift" (for time_shark) and "Natural Phenomena" (about sirens and their listeners) have been accepted by, respectively, Goblin Fruit and Not One of Us. I am meeting rushthatspeaks at Kickass Cupcakes in a couple of hours.

I'm okay with being awake.

The Roanoke Times Features Department poses together for a photo. We're mad men (and women) I tell you!