welcome to June!

And associated panic as I try to fill gaps and mend inconsistencies in this draft of Cost of Silver before the end of the month when Self-Imposed Deadline looms.
I'm having the usual issue that what I'm writing now feels so much flatter and duller than what I wrote previously. It's some help to know that this always happens and that I haven't actually forgotten how to write evocative prose in the last month or so. Some help, but not a remedy.

And yes, still wrestling with (though it feels more like being pushed around by) body-image issues. A positive change though as I found a pair of trousers I'd put aside to the rag-bag several years ago (because they'd worn thin on the inner thigh where the bike seat rubs) and they fit perfectly, which they wouldn't have, say, two years back.
It suggested that this body isn't a shape-shifting alien or some kind of reverse-possession, but a body similar to one I had before and had forgotten about. An old friend who's been away that I can get re-acquainted with, rather than a potentially threatening stranger who needs to be propitiated with gifts of clothing and protein bars.

Odd to think that at this time last year I was stuck in an immobilizer and posting pics of my x-rays. I have full extension back, but not full compression in the right leg. I can't sit back on my heels or fully kneel, and very occasionally I get a sort of wobble to the right as if the knee wants to bend sideways. But thanks to my keeping up the calf raises and squats, my legs are otherwise much stronger than before my fall.

May was a busy month, including a trip out to Sidney Island to help build a permanent, non-portable cob oven. I'll try to do a post with pictures to liven things up a bit. The garden is threatening Nature's goddamn bounty to come, with rhubarb flourishing, raspberry canes shooting up and the apple trees getting through caterpillar season relatively unscathed. Despite our three little cherry trees, I'll be pleasantly surprised if we get any cherries this year, but I have some hope for plums and pears. In this lull before fruit starts to fall on me, I'm trying to make the most of time for writing. Wish me luck.

May was also a month of being tired and sleepy. Exercise and weight loss continue to not live up to the promises made about them, as I conked out by 9pm, slept fairly well and could barely drag myself out at 5:30 am, not to mention nodding off at 2pm for that impressive face-on-keyboard moment.
The remedy is allegedly to eat more (wait, what?) protein, like peanut butter and cheese, and to eat several small meals through the day, rather than 3 regular meals.
It seems to be working, but I don't think I'll ever accept how effing contradictory this healthy-diet business is. Eat less fat--eat more protein (but they're the same foods!). Don't snack--eat several times during the day (how is that not snacking?). It's like a series of koans you have to act out, but with no promise of enlightenment at the end.
The fatigue is my excuse for not posting. My mornings went to struggling with revision, and when I sat down at the computer in the evenings I most often found myself typing with one eye closing. This I took as a sign that I needed to go to bed. But, knock on wood, I seem to have a little more energy this week, so you may see more of me.
And how are all of you?

so much happens

And I have so little time to post about it.
The pear harvest.
Making pectin from culled apples.
The plum harvest.
The Vancouver Science Fiction Convention, and being liaison for Connie Willis. (with pictures)
More strike action.
A drive to Rock Creek BC for the Tournament of the Golden Swan. (with pictures)
The grape harvest (jelly! pictures!)
A concert by Richard Thompson.
A week off work to spackle as many holes as possible in Cost of Silver before the World Fantasy Convention.

The last item is what I'm engaged with now and why I haven't posted. It's not because I don't love you. It's because I will love getting that damned book in the mail/email more.
 

mostly pictorial

Mark is away to Pennsylvania for the Pennsic War, and I am home with two big bowls of Transparent apples that need processing and dehydrating, a freezer that needs defrosting, a garden that needs weeding and watering, a cat that needs attention and comfort, and a novel that needs finishing.
Oh, and a knee that still needs physiotherapy exercises.

So I'm going to ignore all that  and show you some pictures of roses.

Well, that one's a rose hip, on the rugosa, a full-figured lady to be sure. 

The Bright Jewel miniature is blooming happily. That's my hand, again for size reference.

The Dortmund that blooms forever and ever.

One of the front yard gallicas. It's much redder than it looks here, but none of my photos show it properly. 

Apples! This is the Golden Delicious, which goes through a reddish (bronze?) stage before it gets fat and yellow. Fortunately it doesn't ripen until October, and lasts into December.

news of the knee

I saw the orthopedic surgeon yesterday, and he saw my leg. It has interesting green and purple bruises on the upper shin and on the sides of the knee, worst on the outside. The swelling is down. He won't know for a while whether there is ligament damage, but he said it's usually ligament or bone, not both.
I get to keep the immobilizer and the crutches for another 5 weeks, until I see him again June 28th. After 2 weeks I can take the immobilizer off at home for brief periods to gently flex and extend the leg.
But it remains important that I put no weight on the right leg until cleared. If I do, I risk worsening the fracture, buggering my knee, surgery, and all that. Which also means being very careful while crutching and not taking it for granted as it gets easier (I'm assuming it does get easier).
Overall, good news, with caveats.

My endurance of sitting up, whether in a chair or propped up in bed, still runs to an hour at most, and crutching to the washroom and back means a recuperative nap. On the other hand, I was suffering generalised aches and upper-body twitches from lack of exercise.  So Mark brought me a couple of 10 lb dumbbells, and I worked out with those, and did leg lifts with the good leg.
It wasn't quite as rejuvenating as my sponge bath, but it meant last night's sleep was much more comfortable than the night before.

Big achievement the first day of bed-rest:  figuring out how to lie on my side.
Big achievement yesterday:  working out how to wash my hair (still theoretical, test to be made today).

One unexpected benefit of clinic visits is how filling out the information forms makes me grateful for my good health. I'd never thought of myself as a terrifically healthy person (glasses, arthritis, always catching colds, not athletic) but being able to check the NO box for a massive list of chronic health conditions does remind me that I wasn't that much of a loser in the genetic lottery, even if I didn't win the 'tall, with prominent cheekbones' prize. 

metaphorical cat

Here, the cat takes on the role of symbolising Christmas tasks such as addressing and mailing cards, wrapping presents, and decorating the house, as she rises over my head.

Picture taken with Mark's IPad.

October? What?

I'm at the Sheraton in Richmond, at the Vancouver Science Fiction Convention. I've been trying and trying to post some pics from our Living History Week in August, but apparently I can't upload from here. Argh.
This will be a more visually interesting blog in a couple of days.

So, you may recall that I was going to produce a revised synopsis of the new! bigger! expanded! Cost of Silver 'after Labour Day. Which I had thought of as being about a week after Labour Day weekend.

This has not occurred. Instead I have been dashing about for 3 weeks, researching byways of 17th c. life and beliefs and customs and folklore and court intrigue and... And writing bits of synopsis with lots of square brackets [ insert motive here ] and [ why? ]. And writing snippets of conversations and scenes to try to figure out who these characters were and what they wanted.
I've researched
- bog bodies
- Prince Rupert of the Rhine
- fen ecology
- the Duke of Buckingham
- Catholic plots and anti-Catholic plots
- rescue archaeology
- King John's treasure lost in the Wash
- Doctor John Lamb
- alchemy
- etc.
And after consulting with (ie throwing myself on the mercy of) my fellow Furtive Scribblers, I think I have it worked out, including the Origin of Vampires.
Now I must go away for a while and write it.

But I will post some nice pictures soonish.

Skychair west

is up! So it must be spring in Victoria. The rocket is sprouting, the fruit trees are flowering, and it only rains a couple of times each day.
Below is our bluebell woods in miniature.

The downside is that chilly weather has meant we are only now seeing the bees bumbling about, and the wind and rain have stripped the plum blossoms, so pollination may not have happened.
And the caterpillars are back. I've clipped three nests off the Spartan tree, and have been up on a ladder searching the plum tree for the little buggers. I have come to understand why 'caterpillar' was an insult in Shakespeare's time--they chew the blossoms off their stems and leave them hanging, and they take leaves down to the base so the twig dies, and they're nearly invisible until the damage is done and sometimes after.

Well. Anyways.
Beans and peas planted in front and back gardens. Strings holding back the raspberries.
We have rhubarb. So far I'm keeping it in check with a bowlful in the morning, but since I hacked off 4 crowns and replanted them around the yard, next year may be overabundant. Note to self: look for rhubarb recipes.

And I am about to stuff William Lilly, Astrologer, into The Cost of Silver. I may not be able to get Nicholas Culpeper in (what a stand-up guy he was!) without bending space and time, but I'll give it a try. Then I just need to make sure I haven't sprained continuity beyond mending.

another new year

Which I can't say in sparkly shortbread, alas.

One of my Christmas presents from Mark was a membership in LibraryThing, which I fear will not enhance my writing productivity. Already I have discovered the joy of adding a book that no one else has, alternating with the joy of seeing who else has the same books. This with only 50 or 6o of my books added, and no adult fiction yet.

A shared Christmas present was a 2d-hand rowing machine, plonked now in front of the television. Mark is up to 40 minutes at a time, I'm at 20, and using it to catch up with the videos and dvds that I've bought over the last few years and haven't gotten around to watching. I'm favouring HK movies with subtitles, so I don't have to bump the volume up to hear them over the machine.

Much happy Christmas baking still remains, including rolled shortbread, pressed shortbread, iced cut-out cookies, chocolate shortbread, cheese shortbread, spicy cheese cookies, honey cookies, oatmeal shortbread, butter tarts, candied grapefruit peel, sugared walnuts, melting moments, bar shortbread, domino cookies, toffee candy (it was meant to be fudge), gingerbread snowflake cookies, one piece of birthday cake, gingerbread cake, butter pecan cookies and coconut macaroons. So if it were to snow for real and we were to be trapped at home, we wouldn't starve.

But now it is the New Year, and time to get seriously serious about finishing the revisions on Cost of Silver. This means writing more scenes relating to the draining of the fens, the English Civil War, and the witch hunts. There may have been cheerful things happening in the latter 1600s, but I'm not sure any of them will appear in the book. Angsty angstiness is the tone of the era, with occasional gallows humour.
Also: writing down actual comments for Anne's excellent slice-of-lowlife novel The Sleepy Teepee. And thoughts on possible markets.

home again

We made it home Monday afternoon, despite yea, even more travel glitches--specifically, Delta deciding that there was insufficient connection time between my arrival in Seattle and my departure for Victoria, and cancelling that last flight for me. My husband's reservation, made from the same flight to the same flight, they did not cancel, though it (obviously) had precisely the same amount of time to make the connection.
Maybe they figure girls can't run as fast as boys?
The wonderful staff at Horizon/Alaska, though, got me on to the very same flight I was originally booked for, even though it was overbooked by one already.

But, you say, what about the rest of my trip? Didn't I promise a full post on Hemingford Grey? Have I said anything about London? Where have I been and what have I seen?
Though some of you, faithful readers, may more likely be griping that I've babbled enough about travel and how about something relevant to writing, like whether Willow Knot has had any nibbles yet.
And yes, I will be alternating travel and writing posts for the next little while. In brief, WK has had one very nice rejection in the 'don't think we can market this one but show us the next' vein, and two of the 'doesn't work for me' sort. Cost of Silver is slated for expansion with MOAR HISTRY & MOAR PPLS PLZ.
Yesterday morning my doctor told me that my kidney function is down a trifle and so I will get more tests and potentially a kidney biopsy. Ick ick ick. I'd look it up on Wikipedia, but I'm almost certain it involves Huge Needles and that I might be better off not knowing the details.

So! More later. I'm not jetlagged, but I am uncommon tired, so please excuse the brevity (or appreciate it, as your tastes dictate.)

time and motion

Last weekend Mark and I were in Powell River (the SCA name is False Isle, because although it's part of the mainland, it can only be reached by ferry, however you come to it) teaching at a small event. I taught four two-hour classes, which is taking it easy, since I usually try to teach the whole time so they'll have their money's worth for the travel costs of bringing me over (or if I'm paying my own way, so it'll be worth it for me - no point paying $100+ to sit around drinking tea, when I can do that at home for free).
In my free hours, though, I was able to take Stephen's class on understanding medieval music, for which I didn't need to be able to read music, yay!
The event was low-key and fun, with a potluck feast, like events from 20 or so years ago in Seagirt (Victoria) or Lions Gate (Vancouver). So I don't quite understand why I've been so slow and sluggish all last week. Either travel is tiring me much more than it used to, or the change of seasons is affecting me.
Anyway, that's my excuse for not posting much just lately. Although! Exciting things are happening.
Today I'm driving up-island to Honeymoon Bay to visit my brother and his family, and my (half) sister Darlene.
The first weekend in October, I'll be at VCon, organising the SF-Canada book table and being a gofer for one of the Guests of Honour, which I hope I do okay at, because I haven't done that specific job before.
The second weekend I'm driving into the interior of BC to the Golden Swan event, where I'll visit with my amazing and talented apprentices, Alis (aka Rajpal) and Lucy. The scenery will be gorgeous, as usual, and the nights will be freezing-bloody-cold so I'm taking lots of bedding and wool. Also bringing Deirdre, with whom I'm discussing apprenticeship--it will be the long drive part of the testing, whether either of us will want to leave the other at a rest stop and drive away.

Then--head down and write, because I need to have this draft of Cost of Silver all filled in and smoothed before the World Fantasy Convention at the end of October. I'll be flying out to Columbus Ohio, and there I will be meeting my agent face to face for the first time. She doesn't usually do WFC because it's over Halloween and she has young children, so this is a rare chance. I'm not twitchy about it yet, but I may be by the time I get there.
She expects to be hearing back from publishers after WFC, and cautioned me not to get impatient because publishing is a slow business. Fortunately I have something to distract me from worrying (besides doing revisions on Cost of Silver) which is ....

I'll be in England for the first two weeks of November. Researching, yes, this is TOTALLY WRITING-RELATED, yes. Mark will be at the London Coin Fair for part of it, and going behind the scenes at museums, so it's very work-related for him. I'm hoping to meet up with the UK Scribblers and other writer friends, so it's time I started planning where to go and what to do--if only there wasn't so much else going on to distract me.

December and January are booked for revising Cost of Silver. We'll see how that works out. And probably for deciding which book to work on next. Dark, gritty fantasy is my market presently, so mysteries and modern-day fantasies will have to wait, or be my backup if my first couple of books fail utterly.

the bag, it is mixed

The bad: I failed at Nanowrimo. Better than last year, not as good as the year before, only just beat 20k. I had much fun with what I did write, but getting myself sitting at the keyboard and typing was like shoveling mud. Why, I do not know.
I don't want to let the story go, because I still love the concept (unpublishable though it is) and the character names, and writing in that ornate, wordy, 18th c. voice. So I may be a Nano Rebel next year, and pick the story up where I left it.

The good: Christmas cards are signed & mailed. Christmas letters (personalised & newsletter) are sent. Donations are sent (Oxfam, Operation Eyesight, Amnesty International, Red Cross, Unicef, Save the Children, SOS Children's Villages, Covenant House, etc.). Most presents are bought, and mailed as required. Approx 1/3 of home-based presents are wrapped. Freezer is stuffed full of pastry, butter tart mix, cheese pastry, roll cookie dough, shortbread dough, choc shortbread dough, cheese shortbread dough, checker cookie dough, sugar cookie dough, honey cookie dough, coffee spice cookie dough, icing, choc icing, caramel icing, gingerbread dough, half-dozen pies (berry & apple).
New curtains on two of the kitchen windows (I did not make these. One I sewed a lining to, and the other pair I hemmed up). So there will be less heat loss this winter. Finally found an arbour to hold up the garage roses (there's a story to go with that, but maybe later) and stained it. Haven't put it up yet.
It's kind of impressive how much I can get done by not doing something else. I need to keep some particularly difficult task in reserve at all times, to goad me into getting everything else done.

A particular mixed bag, for those who haven't heard elsewise--agent comments on revision arrived, and more revision is required, which I did expect, but she very much likes the changes and expansions made to the latter half of the book, with words like 'perfect' and 'loved'. The first half needs condensing and tightening still, but I can add some scenes from Midame's pov, which I'd rather wanted to do earlier but was afraid of losing focus. And consider making Nomency a duchy, which is another thing I'd considered before and held off as something I could change at any point. It would move closer to the reality of the Small States and away from the fairytale-standard-kingdom, which wouldn't harm the story.

Good writey stuff: I wrote a flashfic!! I honestly didn't think I could do this, but I turned out an 88-word story. I may have to look into flash markets. So that is something positive coming from the local group, which seems to be developing into a real writing group.
Willow Knot has been hacked up again on Scrivener, and spaces cut into it for scenes with Midame, the four chapters that need to be cut by half (faint screams of manuscript heard off stage) have been isolated and prepped for surgery (More ether, nurse!), and notes made throughout for what needs to be enhanced our emphasised or cut.
My chimps story will be going up on Beneath Ceaseless Skies #33 on December 31, with the airship cover art still up (yay!). December 31 is apparently a blue moon, which amuses me mightily.
December 2 is a blue moon as well--two in one month! and ferociously bright it has been the last couple of nights.

Why does this cat insist on resting its head on the crook of my arm?

all novel in a day

Okay, in 3 days.
Yes, last weekend was the 3-Day Novel Contest! With my desktop computer being much deaded, and connectivity downstairs being kind of spotty, I didn't have much luck posting regular progress reports. So this is my roundup:

Initial plot-like object was the idea of a woman scholar who is a fairly high-profile prisoner of conscience, refusing to recant the anthropology studies of her youth (published) which establish the distinct culture and language of a nomadic ethnic minority that she'd lived and travelled with. Interspersed with the folktales and legends of the nomads, and other random folktales as appropriate--because in litfic it's perfectly reasonable to drop the story as such and throw in bits of letters or encyclopedia articles or ballads or conversations that took place decades ago. Anyway, she suddenly 'births' (in the Zeus's brow, warrior's thigh way) a culture-hero. And then, um, stuff happens. Some of it rather gross in a bodily-secretions way, because there are all these great folktale motifs of children born from blood clots and mucus, and generally they do not get much love in the Folktales-of-the-World way.
Inspiration and ready-ref was the Funk & Wagnall's Standard Dictionary of Folklore, Mythology, and Legend, 1236 pages.

Supplies included black tea, ginger beer, coffee (made by Supportive Husband); cold pizza, frozen meat pies, corn chips, bag of veggies, dried apples, dried plums, sugared ginger, Cap'n Crunch cereal.

Distractions included ripe blackberries and dropping plums; telephone calls from cheerful relatives and distraught friends; library books left in plain sight by Supportive Husband.

Progress
Saturday started off well at 6 am, with 2428 words before an early lunch break. Return was delayed by filling the dehydrator with a load of plums, and picking enough blackberries for a pie. Because obviously those things Could Not Wait. At dinner break I had only 4045, and determined to hit 7k before bed. Unfortunately by 11:45 I was falling asleep sitting up and had only hit 6600. Still, that was better than both previous years.
The story was chugging along, with Nima (yeah, perhaps such an easily mis-typed name was not the best choice for a story written at widely varying levels of alertness?) resigned to her captivity and amusing herself by thwarting her jailers in various minor ways, then dealing with the supernatural events that decided to make her their agent. I was having fun playing mix'n'match with motifs.
Sunday was slogging. Didn't get started until 8 am, and had only brought the total to 7513 by lunchtime. The 2pm slump hit me hard, and Mark suggested walking into Oak Bay with him for some air and exercise. That helped a bit, as did the pre-dinner nap, but I was still lingering too much over word choice and bending myself out of shape over whether I was keeping the 'voice'. I broke 10k after dinner, and was just under 12k when I called it a night at a quarter past twelve. What really helped me pick up speed was adding another viewpoint character, Rasa, a young girl of the nomads living in a reserve / prison camp, who witnesses the 'birth' of another culture hero, from the tears & mucus of her outcast mother. I also got the ending down, so I'd just have to fill in the middle on Monday!
Monday, split the difference and started at 7 am. 13625 words at lunchtime (again, very early lunch). From there on, a pretty steady 400-700 words an hour. Supportive Husband made a big pot of strong coffee and went to bed, leaving me to it.
The last couple of scenes before the climax were badly scanted, because I was getting right down to the wire for time, and needed to have the two halves of the tunnel at least touch in the middle. So Nima being injured (proves fatal) while releasing the oxen from the barn was barely there, but, well, triage.
Final wordprocessor count, at 11:55 Monday night was 18768 words, barely above the last 2 years. That may be my natural length for a 3 day push.

Overview
It was fun. I was sorry I had to skimp on the latter middle, but it's a bit facile to say 'ah, you should have done more on Sunday' because on Sunday I still didn't know what was going to happen in the middle of the book. This one, of all my 3-Days so far, is open for rewrite and expansion--in fact I'm eager to fill it out, though as usual I can't think of a market for it.
This is the third story set in the alt-Europe that I used for Fold. I'm enjoying expanding that setting, exploring different views of the societies. Maybe I can take those three and turn them into a decent-sized collection to print through Lulu.

And now to bed, for I have sleep still to catch up on.

a sense of calm urgency

Is what we're supposed to employ as we evacuate the Library, should evacuating the Library be called for. It's the first item on the emergency list recently sent around.
And it's what I need presently, since I will be leaving on the 25th for the Pennsic War, followed by Worldcon in Montreal. It's not so much the prep for the trip itself, it's the multitude of things that suddenly needed doing before I leave.
* dental app't
* subsequent repair of old filling
* optometrist app't
* subsequent choosing and fitting of new glasses
* subsequent adjusting of me to new glasses
* regular blood test
* vet app't for cat
* weeding in front yard
* processing the first batch of Transparent apples
* pastry for pie to be frozen
* writing up notes for house-sitting
* finishing reshuffling of scenes for Willow Knot

And last-minute additions to packing:
* sewing up new shift for hot weather
* sewing up new kirtle for same
* finding wool to trade for sewing of nicer kirtle
* oranges (or lemons? must choose) watercolour
* next thing that I haven't thought of yet (repeat)

One major worry is taken off my mind by the arrival of my friend and apprentice Judy to house-and-cat-sit. Priss has been uncommonly clingy and whiney since I was away at Fort Rodd Hill, and I tremble to think what a horror she'd be after 3 weeks without regular company. Not to mention the gardens going unwatered and the apples falling to rot.
Judy arrived Tuesday night and is already enthused about making rosepetal jelly and apple juice, so that is well. Hopefully she'll also have time to enjoy sitting in the garden and dropping in at the several coffee places nearby, and of course, reading.

I'll be on the road for a few days, and my online access until Worldcon will be spotty, so I expect this month will be fairly uncommunicative. I had hoped to do another roses post, but haven't found time. However, here's a picture of the Kazanlik in the front yard, which is about 8 ft tall and hardly ever produces flowers. This year I managed to catch one bloom while it still had petals. The blooms aren't showy, but they are smack-in-the-face perfumey, which unfortunately doesn't come across in a picture (or fortunately, given scent-sensitivities). Kazanlik is one of the attar-of-roses varieties, like the damask in the back yard.

And just in case you're sick of roses, here's a bundle of blueberries.

things done and undone

All kinds of productive this weekend!
The garden shop had a 30% off sale, so I bought a cherry tree (Glacier) for the backyard, and Mark dug the hole and now we have a second cherry tree. I have a new big plant-pot to shift the potted willow into, and a place to put it, beside my hanging chair. I have a tall trellis-y thing that I have used to restrain the Quatresaisons damask against the fence, and hardly got thorn-stabbed at all this time. I watered many plants, and identified a couple of roses
I bought a big oak half-barrel so we can soak hides at Fort Rodd Hill and try making parchment again--if only I can figure out how to do it without rubber gloves (which are non-medieval). I cut out a linen shift that I may get sewn up in time for FRH. I stained and assembled the non-modern-looking standing easel so that I'll have more viewable workspace in the tent, and won't have to stack canvases on the bed.

I finished the Bluebeard's Widow story that came out of chat on the Scribblers thread (just over 4k). Then I became discontented with it, and wrote a second take on the same plot twist, with a different voice and setting, in just over 2k. I have no idea just yet whether either of them is any good, so I'll look again in a couple of days.
What is good, though, is Ferret's take on Rumplestiltskin, (also from the Scribblers thread) which I'm reading over. The ending makes me kind of weepy, but this is a good thing. Now I need to wake up my inner critiquer and be coherent about it.
Also I'm rewriting the ending of Chimps for the fifth or so time, and have it almost right!

In Willow Knot news, I'm muddling about with the index cards as I try to sift Myl's five years in the forest into three years. I don't want it to end up too schematic, with one rescue or encounter or bird/baby image per year, but I also don't want to have events treading on each other's heels.
For those keeping track at home, Mylla will still be 17 when she returns to the city, because I'm making her a little older when they run away, 14, so that she can be under threat of being apprenticed out by Midame, and being parted from Tyl. Tyl stays the same age. He has to be young, because it gives him license to be feckless and reckless and slightly reduces the reader's urge to smack him for it. So he'll be younger at the end of the book this time, closer to Silly's age.
Anyway, a lot more happened in the forest than I'd really considered, especially when the events are split up into 'scenes', which sometimes mean sequences. For instance, an escape would be a scene, and the pursuit that follows it another scene, but if I split them up like theatrical scenes I'll just confuse myself with two index cards that might as well be stapled together, since they make no sense alone. But some other scenes stand by themselves, like the Babes in the Wood discovery, and could be moved fairly seamlessly.
I'm also muddling about figuring out how the palace events mirror the forest events. Not exactly, but there are equivalances, so perhaps a funhouse mirror.
The hard part of this stage is convincing myself to stick with it and not just plunge back into the text. I need to be a picador, circling daintily and plunking lances into the vulnerable spots until I can get close enough for butchery.
I have to remind myself that this part really is work, however much it feels like work avoidance.

Oh, and the domain name willowknot.com is mine. Mine, mine, mine! But there's nothing there yet. Sorry.

roses and revisions

Here's the backyard roses. Every rose here is medieval or earlier, while the frontyard roses are Victorian or David Austin Roses.

These are the garage-devouring albas. You can see that they're recovering nicely from two winters back when the snow peeled them off the garage and flattened them.
Today we put a garden bench in the space between them, and I'm hoping to put an arbour frame over the bench to prevent it disappearing into a mass of vines & blossoms.
The rose on the right (of the pic above) is Alba maxima, also called the Jacobite rose. One of the descriptions calls it rampantly flowering, which sounds about right. A very strong fragrance. I cut some for Thursday night table, and the dining room was nicely perfumed.
I've been picking up the dropped petals and putting them in a bowl as a sort of immediate pot-pourri, though I suppose I should be drying them first.



This is alba semi-plena, and it's pretty rampantly flowering and highly scented as well. It may be the White Rose of York, which is appropriate, because I'm a bit of a Ricardian.
I'm not sure which rose would be the Red Rose of Lancaster. I'm sure it's in one of the rose books or websites.





Three gallicas behind the window seat, though you can only see one blooming right now.
The leafy green behind the drainpipe is an acanthus plant. It's the big scallopy leaves that medieval manuscript painters liked to have running down the margins, to unfold into big scalloped platforms for little scenes.
Acanthus grows rather like rhubarb (there's a rhubarb plant next to it) and it's probably time that I separated its crowns and planted some in the front, perhaps under the bay window.

Here's a closer view of the gallica bloom and buds. It will open up much more than this, but I rather like the flower at this stage.

The bush next to it hasn't opened yet, so whatever sort of gallica it is, it's a later-blooming one. I'll know more when I see the flowers. The backyard roses don't have little metal tags to identify them. Or if they do, the tags are buried and lost.


This gallica grows closest to the window where my writing place is, and I can look out the window and see the blossoms. It's Rosa Mundi (gallica versicolor) and seeing it from the corner of my eye I always think of carnations. The rosa mundi has much more fragrance than a carnation, of course.
And yes, I'm terribly spoiled to have roses flowering away while I'm writing.




This last is a damask rose, Quatre Saisons, or Autumn Damask, and it's supposed to flower repeatedly through to autumn, rather like the Dortmund only prettier. Another strongly scented rose.
Both Mark and I have a fondness for the streaky roses. This one was at first trained along the fence, but our neighbour pulled it down a few years ago when he painted both sides of the fence, and it had been sprawling along the ground since. It's a very thorny rose, and its location under the apple tree made for some exciting apple-recoveries.
At present I'm trying to figure out some way to keep it upright that's a bit more secure than loops of twine. Very specialised trellis?

Revising: I've taken the first steps of changing the font and format--a different monospace font, single spacing--and stripping out the chapter divisions and headings so I can look at just the text.
Now I'm listing the scenes / sequences / events /whatever and what each event or set of events does in the plot, what's established or laid in or changed by each one. Pretty much I get to put these on index cards (real or figurative) and play 52-pickup.
Because you see, my book is lumpy. The stuffing has all gone out to the edges, and I need to shake and prod it back into the middle where it will do some good. I need to speed up some parts and slow down others. I need to simplify the politics, and to do that I need to wipe out an entire kingdom (farewell, Valdosa!) as well as focus the guild disputes onto just the one guild.
On the other hand, I get to spend more time on searching for food, on Alard and Myl getting to know each other and on her decision to return to the city. I'm giving serious thought to at least one scene with Myl and Alard encountering each other in the forest unrecognised, before he 'finds' her properly.
The chronology is going to be difficult, because what happens in the forest needs to match up with events in the city, and if I split Rembert's enchantment, say, away from the Lusantian princess's visit, in order to have Tyl's enchantment happen right away, the timing of the triggering events has to fit, even though no one knows the connection at the time.
Index cards are my friends.

But, blessing of blessings, I can banish the Dread of Wordcount for this revision. Spend as much wordage as I need to spackle the gaps, and cut it out on the next go-through. I've been assured that it's okay to go up to 130k in the final draft, even, because I am 'so good at realistic detail and grittiness'.
Woo!

I'm still reading books on writing, both Revision, by Kit Reed, and How Not to Write a Novel, by Newman and Mittelmark, which is utterly hilarious. I've only found one of my own mistakes in it so far, though.
Which reminds me, I need to order Evil Editor's new book!

On becoming real

A statistical update
Queries submitted to agents: 33
Form rejections: 18
Rejection by no response: 7
Requests for partial: 3
Request for full mss: 1
Offer to represent: 1

Timeline
May 10 - e-query sent.
May 12 - partial requested.
May 13 - full requested on 2-week exclusive.
May 27 - phone call scheduled.
Jun 1 - phone call and offer.


So, yes, I have an agent. And I have a page-and-a-bit list of Large Structural Revisions that Willow Knot needs, and a deadline to complete them.
And yes, I did spend portions of Monday going 'bwuh-bwuh-bwuh' and OMG!!! and if you are my close friend and haven't already heard this news, it's because I've been dazed and struck silly by sheer good fortune.
As I came out of the daze, I was overtaken by the unnerving realisation that being something very much like a Real Writer means Real Deadlines, not self-set deadlines like 'must finish 2d draft or can't do Nanowrimo'.
But I will try not to gripe about fear of deadlines and doubts of my own competence, because I know there are a good many as-yet-unagented writers out there who would gladly smack me upside the head for any such griping.

hot water, who hath it?

He that died o' Wednesday. And not I.
A new water heater sits in the kitchen, and the old water heater--now interestingly dented about the top fifth--sits on the porch, draining at bloody last. Guy the Invaluable Neighbour suggested that I add a car up on blocks in the yard, and a couple of shotguns on the porch, and get that stereotype rolling. Especially if it allowed me to shoot squirrels. I'd so love to shoot some of those blow-dried rats, but I'd think a shotgun would be less than optimal (plus I've never held a shotgun).
The new heater arrived yesterday morning, and Guy and I spent most of yesterday evening wrestling and prying the old one out of its niche under the stairs, which required popping out the baseboards and shoe-shelf from the closet. I suppose the old one must have been installed when we re-did the hallway and took out the walls, (several years ago) because otherwise I don't know how it fit. Though it must have been lighter and more manoeuvreable when it wasn't BLOODY FULL OF WATER that refused to drain.
Guy shimmed the tank up while I levered it from side to side with a length of 2x4 (thus the dents, from my mighty thews & 2x4) and that got some of the water out and let him eventually tip it forward onto the dolly. He remarked, on his way out, how feather-light the new tank seemed in comparison, and gosh yes.
I swept out the understairs, and propped the drain-tray up to let the floor dry under it. With luck I'll be able to have that hot bath on Saturday. Mmm. Hot water on demand is one of the great triumphs of civilisation, up there with antibiotics and anaesthesia.

In other updates, it looks as if I'm getting away with a crown and not a root canal. Hurrah! (in a muted way, in case the tooth falls apart before the crown is permanently cemented in)
The Medieval Seminar went well, and we may be able to expand our display next year, along with a much more interesting topic: Medieval Beasts. Lots of display potential there, though I many not have time to write, illustrate and bind a small 14th c. bestiary.
Three more agent queries sent on Sunday, and my first form rejection from an agent--I'm not quite sure how to mark that milestone, perhaps with a hot bath.
Got my crit assignments for the Potlatch writers' workshop, only three stories. Rather a large number of students, it seems, so the sessions have been broken up into five, each with a single instructor (or so it looks on pixels). The three stories are quite different, so there should be some interesting perspectives.

Tomorrow I must get downtown and book tickets for Serena to visit this month, so we can hang out and talk writing. It's too bad I'm not linked up with any local writers' groups, for hanging-out purposes, but I'm not sure how much I'd want to be committed to any regular face-to-face group.

things sent to try us

My original plan was to have a hot bath while reading Evil Editor's Why You Don't Get Published, then all warm and rosy, pop into bed. That was before I noticed that the bath was less than lukewarm. Before I heard trickling water under the stairs. Before I pried off the back of the closet and saw water on the floor around the water heater.
Well, the part that can be dealt with at 8:30pm is dealt with. I've turned off the tap at the top, I've clicked over what looks like the right switch in the fusebox, I've wrapped a towel around the bottom of the tank, and I'm having a small glass of port instead of a hot bath, while the Consumer Reports page on water heaters is open in another tab.
Fortunately I have tomorrow off, because I'll be spending it getting a new water heater installed.

not so much resolution as resolve

Time to make a new Rejection Pledge for a new year. Since I'm concentrating on novel(s) at present, I set my sights fairly low, making a pledge of 12 rejections last year, and achieving 19.

The most recent rejections:

Dear Barbara,

Thank you for submitting "Foretold" to ABYSS & APEX. As you know, we kept it for second round consideration but ultimately decided not to accept it for publication. The competition this month was strong and while we came up with an excellent table of contents for our next issue, we had to say no to many works (like this!) that we wish we could keep.

I hope you'll consider us again, and I wish you the best success in placing this story elsewhere.

******

Dear Barbara,

Thank you for submitting "Bride of the Vampire" to The Town Drunk. I'm afraid that after careful consideration, we have decided not to accept it for publication.

I remember reviewing this story on OWW some time ago. I was impressed with it then, and I still am. The premise is clever, and we appreciated the social commentary. There's some nice wry humor here as well.

That being said, some of our readers perceived a darker streak in the piece:

"Very clever, but a tad more disturbing than humorous with hints that Nikolai may truly be monster. It's a fine story -- just not light. I think the author should rework it and refocus it into a serious piece with shades of horror, which would make it unsuitable for us."

And: "I liked the idea that Nikolai's motives were not especially pure. I also think it could be reworked into a more horrifying piece, but I do think it could still be funny."

I'm not sure all readers would share these perceptions, but since our magazine is focused on lighthearted fare, these reactions are a concern.

Also, we all felt that the story needed to get off to a stronger start and have a tighter focus overall. The motives of the journalist and her cameraman need to be made clear a bit sooner, in our opinion. Our impression is that the plot takes just a little too much time to "coalesce," leaving the reader feeling ungrounded for a bit too long.

We wish you the best of luck in placing this story elsewhere, and we certainly hope to see more of your work in the future.

********

Fairly positive rejections, those.

Isn't this a strange profession? Being pleased about rejections, cheering oneself on to increase wordcount, and then cheering oneself on again to cut those words out in revision.

Christmas baking

This is what I baked for Christmas:
a pan of cake gingerbread (hot water recipe)
a pan of domino cookies (choc. shortbread with white chocolate chips, cut into 1x2 bars)
three rounds of pressed shortbread (the kind that makes 'petticoat tails')
two rounds of oatmeal shortbread (first time)
one round of spicy cornmeal shortbread (also first time)
one batch of cheese shortbread (sliced roll)
'checker cookies' (a roll of butterscotch and a roll of chocolate fridge cookies, cut into quarter-strips and reassembled - my own invention!)
three batches of butter pecan cookies
gingerbread cookies decorated with a snowflake pattern from white (flour & butter) decorating icing, which I've wanted to try for ages
two batches of chocolate shortbread
two batches of rolled shortbread cut in rounds
sugared walnuts, about 4 cups
6 dozen butter tarts
2 dozen sausage rolls
lots of cheese straws to use up the sausage roll pastry
cornstarch shortbread dipped in coloured sugar (the recipe on the cornstarch box)
12 dozen rolled cookies with icing
2 dozen roll cookies painted with egg yolk & food colouring, for people wishing to avoid the sugar hit
a butter cake with caramel icing, decorated with the remaining red & green icing, as a pseudo-birthday cake for me (Mark had already bought me a birthday cake, but it was carrot cake & I wanted something less virtuous) which I'll post a picture of when he uploads his pics next. (Done!)

Insert partridge and pear tree joke here.

Yes, I do like baking. People sometimes boggle at me for doing this, but mostly I find it relaxing, because, like ironing, I choose when and how much to do, and I can see the results of my work. I get a bit fussed over finding space to store the iced cookies while the icing hardens, before I can put them into the big tin, but that's not a terrible problem.
You should come over and have some cookies. There are plenty left.