I spent this morning at my least favorite place (the Mall) again. Worse, the place I went to *cough*theLEGOstore*cough* didn't have what I was looking for. (I'd say, but it's a secret and Mason might read it here.)

Plus, I decided I hate the Mall's Barnes & Noble. Specifically. More precisely I hate the people in the children's department, but I think maybe it extends to all the book buyers. Here's the thing. I'm looking for a particular book to buy for a friend. The book is NOT out of print, but it isn't very THIS year, shall we say (although a book in this series did come out this year.) Are there copies of any of the books in this series at the Mall's B&N? No. In fact, I got a very snotty, "Oh, [author's name]... no, we wouldn't have any of those." Like what, because it's more than a day old it's to DIRTY for your store???

What I hate is that in terms of floor space/shelf space for books B&N has an embarrassment of riches. They have a lot of room. Much more, than say Uncle Hugo's, our local, independent SF/F speciality bookstore. Yet Don manages to find space for more than the most recent book in a series... heck, he finds space for out-of-print books like mine. I would probably be wrong about this, but I would bet that Don probably shelves more books than some B&Ns.

I'm also irritated by the fact that certain series, of course, like Twilight and other hot sellers, take up a disproportionate part of B&N's floor space. But there are Twilight plushy dolls, calendars, board games, book bags, toothbrushes....

I'm mad because I went to the Mall for two things and I walked out with neither. But it also irritates me as an author, because I know that even my Tate books are often hard to find at a B&N because they aren't this week's "it" thing. Tall, Dark & Dead is still in print as far as I know, but you won't find it at the Mall.

Man.

Anyway, that's my rant for the day. I'm off to work on my editoral notes for ALMOST, so I can get those off my plate and on to more important things (like RESURRECTION CODE.)

I'm not even sure I can list everything that I did over the weekend in the amount of space LJ allows!

Let's give it a try, though, shall we?

First of all, I've still be plagued by this lingering cough. It's morphed into something more sinus related, but, whatever it is, it's killing me... slowly.

On Friday, I attended a birthday party for jiawen at Mirror of Korea, which was a whole lot of awesome. I met some cool new people and got to know some people I'd met before a lot better. In fact, I had a conversation that night that's haunted me the whole weekend. One of the women there talked about how the world is becoming more conservative, and my initial reaction was the opposite -- since all my friends on the left are becoming more radicalized by all the weirdness on the right. But, I've been slowly considering her point. With venues like Fox (Faux) News spreading so many lies, is the average American being pushed more right/more conservative? We're certainly losing ground in places like California in terms of GLBT rights, and in places all over the world that are being posioned by religious right organizations... it's hard to say.

Anyway, Saturday was INTENSE. It started with a call from my friend Paul who lives in Pennsylvania. We were friends in high school and his family still lives in LaCrosse. He was flying through the Cities on the way to visit LaCrosse, so we met up at... (wait for it)... the Mall of America. Or, as I like to refer to it: the Maul. I was Mauled by the Mall, too. I only agreed because Paul said he'd be willing to take Mason on a few rides at the amusement park, and Mason has been DYING to do the rollercoasters there. (Meanwhile, I would rather die than go on one.) Turns out Paul and his family aren't big fans of rollercoasters, either, but they did go on several rides with Mason... including this crazy "spooky plank" thing that's hard to even describe. It's not really a "ride" per se. It's three story structure that's made up of high wires, basically, as well as other catwalk kinds of things. It's meant to be a bit like a crow's nest on a ship, but is much more sprawling. Anyway, Mason and Paul's wife got on harnesses (you have to wear mounteering harnasses) and braved that thing. All the way up... almost. The funny part? Paul, who has to walk real catwalks as part of his job at as a theatre electrician, got to the first set of stairs with his daughter and chickened out. Not that I blame him. I told him that I knew myself well enough that I could see a scenario where I got to the middle of one of those platforms and froze. They'd need the fire department to talk me down.

Then we braved the Mall/Maul traffic to get back home for "a little lunch" as we say here in Minnesota, and then back out to a birthday party for one of Mason's school mates. It was held in an industrial park warehouse. Seriously. The interior had been transformed (mostly, there were still cavernous ceilings and loading dock doors), into a bouncey house play area. There were enormous air-filled slides, obsticle courses, etc. All those funky, LOUD (with all the air compressors going) bouncy structures you see out at county fairs, only jamed into this odd, industrial warehouse. Still, it was really kind of innovative, and the kids could have cared less. The adults could have used an in-house Starbucks, but that's another story.

They fed us pizza and cake, and then Mason and I ducked out a bit early because we had yet one more social obligation: a wedding reception for our friends Richard and Frank... who'd gotten married at one of those states where such things are legal. Richard is a work colleague of Shawn's besides being a great friend, who lives out in Arizona. He has a lot of friends and family in Minnesota, though, and it was held at his sister's house. Mason was pretty exhausted, but Richard and Frank have given him many gifts over the years (including the only stuffed animal Mason has ever bonded to, his rabbit, Sirralabouydoh) and he was specifically invited. After Mauling and boucing, though, he was pretty wiped out, and mostly spent his time in a quiet corner of the house, reading. It made it easy for Shawn and I to socailize, though. And I ended up having a great time, though by this point I'd mostly lost my voice. I did manage to pitch my books to a couple there, so...

It's always such a funny thing, telling people you're a writer. Inevitably they ask if I'm published by one of the Minnesota preses, and I always have to say, "No, New York. Perhaps you've heard of Penguin USA?" I always feel a bit snotty, but the assumption is kind of a dis... though I think it's meant to give me an "easy out" if I am only a local star, as it were. I finally figured it out Saturday night, though. It's as if I tell people I'm a movie star. They look at me an think, "Okay, this isn't Brad Pitt, so she must mean she does independent films or something." Plus, you figure there's NO WAY someone you're sitting next to at a party has REALLY been in a Hollywood film. That's an LA/New York thing. Not a Minnesota deal, right?

I think it's the same for people when I say I'm a writer. They haven't heard of me. Why would they have (although sometimes people do know Tate Hallaway). So they figure there's no way I run in the same circles as people they have heard of. Like sometimes I like to shock mundanes by saying, "You've seen True Blood? It's based on a book that's published by my publisher. I shared an editor with the woman who writes that series." (Not any more, but we're still at the same house!)

It's like I'm "woman on the street #2" in films starring George Clooney.

Anyway, Sunday was much more relaxed. We got our Solstace tree and did our annual running across University Avenue dragging the huge tree tradition. Every year, we buy our tree from the Y's Men's lot that's just across University from our block. Every year, they ask if they can help tie the tree to our car. Every year, we explain we're just going to drag it home. Every year, we're nearly killed by a semi... okay, not quite, but dodging cars on University is tough enough, add a tree and a six year old to the mix and it gets pretty chaotic.

It's a beautiful tree. We've had taller, broader ones in the past, but this one still fills the space and it's by fair the straightest tree we've ever had.

My friend Harry came over and drank eggnog and chatted while we decorated. I think I managed to convince him that he doesn't have to be a writer to be my friend. Harry's passion is theatre/arts therapy and he's knee-deep in starting up his own practice. I really admire him. This is the second business he's started from scratch, the first being a wildly successful computer programming business that he was able to sell and finance his education in theatre/arts therapy, which is nothing to sneeze at. Now he's starting from the ground up again later in life, and, despite what he'd tell you, is off to an amazing start. He's really breaking some new ground -- for himself and for the therapy community here. I wish him only the best and I have a lot of confidence in his abilities. If I had an ounce of his self-starter-ness I'd... well, I'd have RESURRECTION CODE done, for one.

Speaking of which, I earned a new writer badge. I finally had that experience of hitting the go button on the answering machine and cringing at the sound of my editor's voice asking, "so... about that book..." (no pressure!) Yes, Virginia, I missed my deadline. AGAIN. But I sat down with my calendar and some serious fretting and considering and I think I've got an answer to when the damn book will be done. The worst part is that New York keeps calling. I just got the editorial letter/edits from Anne on the young adult book, ALMOST TO DIE FOR, and a January deadline for that. However, I hope to whip through those before Christmas so I can focus the next month on finishing RESURRECTION CODE.

Eek.

Anyway, how are you?

Unbelievably, Mason is at school today. We had to fight blinding snow-filled winds, stupid drivers, and slippery streets to get him there on time. I also had to delay getting my coffee, which made navigating the above that much tricker.

It's also COLD. Our first minus degree (F) day this winter.

My cough still lingers, but after a very rough night it's a bit more productive and less painful. I think I shall survive after all.

I spent yesterday nursing my cough, writing my murder mystery synopsis (and then sketched out a paranormal police procedural) and watching the roofers my crazy neighbors hired trying to battle the snow and wind as they ripped off the layers of gunk and dropped it all over my yard. Which was then instantly covered by snow. They worked well into the storm, until 2:30 pm, and I'm absolutely certain there are buried tools and roofing materials still in the yard, now under three inches of snow.

What some people will do, eh?

Mason was absolutely giddy this morning to wake up to see all the snow. Everywhere there are those huge piles where the plows toss everything. He kept saying, "Oh, I'm SO going to climb that after school!" and then letting out one of his maniacal laughs.

Also, I need to get some video uploaded to the YouTubes, because last night I captured on film our gerbil, Bee, leaping up on to the wire mess cover, hanging upside down, climbing across it until her little arms can't take it and falling off. What's weird is that she'll do this over and over. And I think I accidentally encouraged this daredevil behavior by giving them seeds the first time she did it. But it makes for pretty funny video.

I also promised a review of BONESHAKER (Cherie Priest), but since it's so new I think I may just leave it with a "you should read this book." I should say that I'm neither a fan of steampunk nor zombies, and this book has both, yet I was quite engaged all the way through. I'm now FINALLY reading HALF A CROWN the last book in Jo Walton's still life with fascism series, or whatever she calls it. I already have a sense of foreboding and I'm only fifty pages in.

I have a really bad cough this morning. The kind that rattles your lungs. No other symtoms, though, but, man, is the coughing annoying.

I need to spend today finishing up the proposal(s) I want to send to my agent. The problem is that I suddenly realized that what I want the book to be is a cross between a paranormal romance and a murder mystery. While I have *technically* won an award for mystery writing, I think we can all agree that was not on the strength of my mystery plotting. So I'm thinking, what with the cough, and all I may just curl up in bed for the day and read through one of the various "How to Write a Mystery" books I have laying around.

I'll try to remember to catch y'all up on my weekend at some point here. I didn't blog on Friday because Shawn and I had our annual spa date. We got hot rock massages at Sactuary Salon/Spa in Eden Prairie. I'm not a big massage person, but I have to say the hot rock thing is VERY NICE. We're actually considering budgeting some spa days that are more frequent.

Well, I'm off to figure out how to write a good murder!

I went through my comments/replies to the copy editor and made SURE they weren't snarky. These days at my publisher the comments are all using Word's track changes features and are electronic. They used to come in paper, and were far easier, IMHO, to just shrug off and make corrections or not. But with the ease of a click I can fire back a pretty snarky comeback.

I held back. Where I couldn't, I allowed myself a rant and then made sure to change it to a simple "stet" or "OK" on my next pass through. Oh... but it was difficult to restrain myself on a couple of points. I understand people get bad matches, these things happen, but I actually had to respond regarding my use of "Spidey Sense". S/he asked: "I don't understand the referrence. Why is 'Spidey' capitalized?"

Erm, in reference to proper noun, "Spider-Man". (Note, I TOTALLY RESISTED adding "D'uh!!!!")

Which, frankly, I think was pretty damn big of me.

Because, you know, there were a couple of things where I realized that maybe my language could stand clarity, even if it meant sacrificing voice. As naomikritzer pointed out yesterday when I ranted a bit about this at the coffee shop, "there are people who would be fine without a copy editor, but you, Lyda, are not one of them."

So true.

My dyslexia prevents me from noticing a lot of my atrocious misspellings, not to mention the fact that sometimes, I just plain misuse words. I have my moments of malapropism. And my gasp of English grammer is often, shall we say, quirky at best. I am inordinately fond of the comma and the paraenthtical phrase. I drop verbs and nouns when I'm writing fast, too. So, really, it's no joke. I NEED a copy editor.

I'm a funny sort of writer that way, I think. I'm nobody's grammar snob, yet there are parts of the English language that make me giddy. I get wound up about the plural of octopus. (Yes, "octopi" is in many dictonaries under "usage" heading, but octupuses is most correct, dang it! Really, listen to it. It actually sounds better.) But most of the time I never use "lay" and/or "lie" correctly. I couldn't tell you for certain if English has a pluperferct verb form, though I suspect we do. Yet I never forget to capitalize English, and my resume has accents on both "e"s and tells you that I majored in history and English. It is known in some local writing circles that I once nearly got in a fist fight (and lost a friendship) over, yes, verbs.

Most of that stuff, however, I leave to the experts, like the copy editor.

I *will* fight passionately over the things like characters and plots and politics. Anyone who has sat next to me on a media panel knows that I take Star Wars, Captain America, and Battlestar Galatica so seriously I may seem a bit deranged at times. Because in the end, I consider those things an extension of my job, my vocation, my calling. Other writers wrote those things and, thus, I feel perfectly comfortable critiquing them with colleagate passion and righteousness.

Anyway, I need to go stuff folders at Mason's school right now, and get ready to take up the good fight at Wyrdsmiths tonight.

Well, there's a bunch of things going on in my life right now. In about 15 minutes, I'm off to hang out with Eleanor and Naomi (and possibly my friend Rosanne) for our writing "date." So, I have to make this kind of quick.

First, we woke up this morning to the sound of Mason barfing. I would be more worried about him, but he seems to do this on ocassion. He's sick for part of the morning, and then he completely rebounds. So, though he's missing the half day of school today, I'm going to bring him along on the writing date because I'm quite confident he'll be fine.

Yesterday I discovered that Tate's last Garnet Lacey novel, HONEYMOON OF THE DEAD, is already available for pre-order on Amazon.com. Get 'em while they're hot! They're pretty confident I'm not a slacker, though, because I got the copyedited manuscript for this book on Monday. I've got a two week turn around, but I guess they figure even if I don't get it back to them on time, I just don't get a say in what gets changed. I have to say in addition to having my cover art completely switcherooed on me, I also apparently got assigned a copy-editor whose questions, while valid, are driving me to an insane (and possibly less than career-healthy) desire toward snark. For instance, s/he probably would have looked at the sentence I just wrote here in this blog and say that it should be written in more correct English (ie, "replace, "desire toward snark" with "a desire to reply in a mean and scarcastic way.") A valid point, perhaps. However, his/her replacement would completely strip that line of its quirky narrative voice. And I've been hovering over the comments feel temped to write, "sorry, but Garnet is not Spock. Correct English usage be damned!" And then put a smily face. A career killer? Hard to say.

Also, Google Alerts found a YouTube video wherein local author Rob Callahan talks about the "joys" of being mistaken for me. (He's such a good sport.) I'm attempting to attach it here. Let me know if it doesn't work. (Here's the direct link at any rate: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8z-QAC4xexs

Yeah, I wasn't here because I was busy with house guests for turkey day. Our usually quiet, unhurried house filled up with the chaos and the awesome that is our friends the Jacksons. They came from Colorado on Tuesday LATE, as I would say, but really it was only nine or ten o'clock when they arrived. (See previous post about how I am now, officialy, old, and nine o'clock is getting to be way past my bedtime.)

Mason alternately had crushes/deep admiration for Maggie and Jack the two "kids" (who, at some point while I wasn't looking, grew up into teenagers.) Jack introduced Mason to the joys of Pokeman for one of those little handheld replacements for Gameboys all you kids are into, and then, to our great astonishment and gratitude, bought him a used one of his very own at the Mall/Maul. Pretty awesome (or enabling,) don't you think? Seriously, though, it's a nice distraction for Mason. Pokeman Diamond Version is about his speed, too.

The actual eating was fairly spectacular, if I do say so myself. The only thing that I would change, if I could, would be to somehow have two ovens and two stove tops so that everything could hit the table piping hot instead of, in some cases, mostly warm enough. I made a ton of sides, and though some of them could be made ahead of time, like the roasted yams, I found that I still didn't quite have enough burners to finish everything exactly on time, while making the gravy, etc.

But we did the whole traditonal thing. Shawn kicked me out of bed at six and I started making bread (French), which I had baked and out of the oven by 11:30 am when I put in the gigantic bird (20-some pounds). Then I made roasted yams with lime and garlic (a recipie from Martha Stewart called "Cuban Sweet Potato Roast," I believe.) Also, I tried something new with the brussel sprouts, something I found in Cooks Magazine that involved maple syrup and cider vinegar. It was okay. I'm not sure I'll do it again, they end up a bit soupy, IMHO. But maybe I just need to tweak the recipie, I don't know. We also had mashed potatoes, gravy, and Shawn's brother Mark's fresh cranberry sauce that involves a whole orange and a touch of brandy. Yum!

And, of course, the obligatory pumpkin pie.

I ate way too much, and my nephew Jonathan came over rounding out a perfect family get-together. We put together a puzzle with the Jacksons and Jonathan, which, may now officially be a "Tradition." I'm not sure how many times you have to do something before it becomes a tradition, but this is the second year running with the Jacksons, Jon, and a puzzle... so certainly it's in the running for tradition, I should think.

Then, I just hung out. The Jacksons left on Saturday for a long drive home, with stops at various relatives' homes along the way. I got a bit of napping in, some reading, and did nothing of import for days on end.

And damn, but getting back into the groove was hard this morning. I woke up in the pitch dark and though, "No way. No effing way." Then I paved a small path in the direction of hell with my good intentions. I was GOING to work out this morning (didn't); I was GOING to get a jump start on all the writing work I ignored for the past five days (didn't). I did have an awesome conversation with a friend this morning about grief, human nature, and my daughter Ella, who died.

It was a really powerful conversation, but the load lightens the less you carry, you know?

At some point I may post a review of BONESHAKER by Cherie Priest, which I finished twenty minutes ago. But I need to percolate my thoughts before I write them down. Plus, I'm going to feel like a complete bonehead if I don't get ANY writing work done today.

How was your turkey day?

I'm off to Normandale College this morning to talk about science fiction and give away copies of MESSIAH NODE. (MN was the first of my books to go out of print and I _way_ over bought.) After this big give-away, however, I'm going to have to be more judicious. I'm down to less than one box per title.

Shawn and I have finally caught up on the DVDs of last season's “Dexter.” I have to say that I was surprised how much I enjoyed the season finale (the wedding.)

However, “Dexter” is one of those shows that invades my subconscious. I have a lot of dreams where I am Dexter, and, before we watched this final episode, I had one rather memorable one in which I was trying to solve the conundrum of Miguel's murder, which did lead me to one very serious question: how dumb are the CSI guys in Miami, anyway?

I actually buy the way things worked out in the finale, but my subconscious thought of an important issue that ought to come up at some point, which is, when Dexter fakes “the skinner's” M.O., Miguel was already dead. You'd think that there would be some sort of physical evidence that would suggest the difference.

Then again, one of the things I find sort of refreshing about “Dexter” over the various CSI franchises is that people miss stuff all the time, which seems much more realistic than all the crimes supposedly solved by the presence of cat hair and mouse dandruff found under the victim's left fingernail. And, in the very first episode, Dexter tells us in a voice over that the unsolved murder rate in Miami is a really high percentile. So, it's not like they don't set it up.

Still, it was weird to have my dreaming mind think about this.

On Saturday, I had my forty-second birthday party, and I learned something important about myself. I'm old.

Also, my friends are old.

This is not a bad thing, not at all. But I'd sort of forgotten about that when I'd been planning it in my head. When I'd been thinking about this party, I was remembering the sorts of parties that Shawn and I threw when we were in our twenties and thirties. You know the sorts, where the party was technically still on the next day because someone had crashed on your couch? When you woke up and thought, “what the hell happen here?”

The party on Saturday was over by eleven. Most people, in fact, had left before nine.

Yet, it was a wonderful party. There were good folks, good conversation, excellent cake... but it wasn't a close the bars down, hung over like a hound dog the next day kind of party. It was a smallish group of people sitting on the couch and in a circle on the rug, talking excitedly about life, the universe, and everything. It was a party where kids had a place and their own room full of LEGOs and toys and the grown-ups drank coffee or pop.

I couldn't have asked for a better party, but it did make me readjust my idea of what parties are like at our house these days. They're quieter affairs. There are fewer folks, but the conversations are higher quality... because you can hear what's being said.

The wild days of my youth are passed, perhaps, but I think at forty two I've found “the answer.” This *is* what it's all about. I have some awesome friends, and really, what the heck else do you need in life, eh?

First of all, I have to apologize. I've been very off-line. Part of it has to do with the fact that Mason is off school right now. We've been spending our days enjoying his vacation by doing nothing together. Plus, the big computer has been occupied, as we're trying to beat the "insane" level of Luxor 3. Important stuff, don't ya know?

A lot has happened since last we talked.

First of all, my folks came to town and we checked out the Minneapolis Institute of Art's "Louvre" traveling exhibit. My short review: save your money, and start budgeting for a trip to France.

The long review goes like this: we went on a Saturday, which was insanely busy, and the show was sold out to non-members, which meant that if we wanted to go to the special exhibit, we had to fork over the $50 for a membership. My folks paid for me (they got a discount ticket for their membership), but even at $2.00, I'm not sure it was worth it. Have you been to MIA? The traveling show room is really only about three rooms big. You COULD pack a lot into those rooms, they certainly did when they brought the "Myth and the Magic of Star Wars" there. But, as I've been describing this, it was like they took all the weird stuff they keep in the basement of the Louvre and brought it to Minneapolis. There were two "oh wow!" names there: Da Vinci and Michaelangelo. But in both cases, what they showed us were studies/sketches of nothing special, which is to say it wasn't even the practice piece for something famous... it was, in the Da Vinci case, a sketch of sunlight over a drape of cloth in pencil. It was clearly GOOD, but nothing that made me catch my breath.

I'm not an art historian or even necessarily a good judge of fine art, but I have had the experience of walking through a museum and having my breath taken away by something that just HIT, you know? At the Louvre the first time, it was seeing Nike/winged victory on the stairs (it's since moved). The second time, it was David's "Oath of the Horatii." (sp.) At the Chicago Institute I have "Aries Chastising Cupid" stop me dead and an El Greco rock my world. At the MIA there's a bust of a woman behind a gauze veil done in marble that is stunning as well as a smaller painting by a lesser known artist of a rug merchant bazaar that also gave me that "oh!" moment.

At this little exhibit, there wasn't anything like that for me. Some people seemed stopped by some of the bigger paintings, but, well, in the parlance of writers, "they didn't quite grab me, alas." And art *is* subjective, so perhaps, if you go, you can tell me about the amazing stuff I missed, but I'd recommend to most people to save their money and go "masterpiece" hunting through the main museum. The Minneapolis Institute of Art is full of some really crazy cool stuff.

And it's free.

And I think that's what it comes down to. For fifty bucks, or even whatever the regular cost is to get into the special exhibit hall, you kind of expect.... well, something. If not something that knocks your socks off, at least a sense that you've seen something "important." Maybe that's not a fair expectation, but it's there all the same.

And, for those of you locally, be warned: the art the MIA is using in its advertising is NOT in the show. (It's a Renaissance looking-painting, though I think it's more in the style of Waterhouse, of an alchemist/astronomer gazing at a globe. Not there.)

Anyway, I'm being bugged to read from the KING'S QUEST COMPANION... so I'll leave things here for now.

I'm at my favorite coffee shop today because today is Thursday, and Thursday is my busy day.

First of all, it's always recycling. It's also fish tank changing day. Thursday is the day that I volunteer to stuff folders at Mason's school, as well. Tonight is Wyrdsmiths, which means that soon I need to go home find the handouts from last week, read and critique them, AND print out what I'm going to hand out tonight. By chance this evening is also a meeting for parents, etc., of gifted students and I agreed to go to that since it's downtown and they're going to provide my dinner (and it gets done before Wyrdsmiths starts).

Did I mention busy?

Oy.

Even so, I managed to finish Scott Westerfeld's SO YESTERDAY, which I enjoyed. The hero is a teenager named Hunter whose job it is to spot trends, sniff out cool just before it hits the mainstream. His love interest is a girl named Jen who is an Innovator, someone who invents cool just before it hits mainstream, but, consequentially, is also a bit odd and out of step in her own way. They get caught up in a mystery involving shoes. (Seriously.)

I'd really wanted to read Westerfeld's UGLY/PRETTIES series, but my library only had one that seemed to be far along in the series. SO YESTERDAY was the only one of his that they had that was self-contained. As I mentioned before I was actually a fan of Westerfeld's and didn't know it. I read both the short story and what eventually became the novel EVOLUTION'S DARLING, which I found weird, but compelling. Westerfeld has some kind of funky writing juju, I think. I suspect he shouldn't be as popular as he is, but his narrative tone/voice is strangely compelling. I wish I could figure out how to harvest that, and make it work for me.

Shawn and I also watched "My Life in Ruins" a chick-flick about a 40-something woman who works as a tour guide in Greece who finds true love with a scruffy bus driver named "Poopy." (Seriously.)

Say what you will, but I tend to really enjoy feel good movies where people find love. One thing I've learned about myself is that I'm not terribly discriminating about what I want from a movie. I was a terrible movie reviewer when I did it for focusPOINT because I'm not all that critical of these kinds of sappy, formulaic films. I get wound up about my science fiction or my angel movies and I tend to find art films obtuse and irritating, but the Hollywood formula works for me. I like my action films to run like a big advertisement for the video game with a lot of explosions, and I want my romances to be sappy and predictable.

It's embarrassing, really. Shawn inevitably looks over at me and says, horrified, "Are you sniffling???"

I don't want to talk about it. I'm easy, okay?

My folks are coming up this weekend to celebrate my birthday with me (early), and to see the Louvre exhibit at the MIA. I should probably add "clean the house" to the list of things I need to do today. Oh, but that reminds me. I need to pick up a cheese pizza for Mason and Shawn. They're going to have a movie night in my absence.

Well, I should go do something constructive... or start on my to-do list!

I woke up grumpy, despite the sunshine. Grumpy and vaguely restless. I took care of some of the restlessness by cleaning up my office/the computer room a bit. I don't know about you, but I accumulate a lot of paper. Alas, some of it could be considered "important" so I can't quite just toss it in the bin. This leads to a lot of clutter. So I sorted and boxed up some of it for eventual transfer to the archives (don't laugh, I have one!)

Anyway, I can't get too comfy. I have to go schlep Shawn to her dental appointment. (We're a one car family.)

Declaimer: anyone coming here after seeing this blog listed in the Pioneer Press article, please note this is my *journal*. I write about myself. Self-indulgently. And my kids. My cats. My fish. I am NOT INTERESTING. These posts have no point, no entertainment value. If you're looking for that, go elsewhere.

That being said, here's my blog:

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A full weekend, my friends. Friday, Shawn took the day off, and we had a date day, though it ended up mostly a drive around town kind of day.

We got her haircut in Edina, drove to Roseville for lunch at our guilty pleasure: Red Lobster. Then, I sat at a Borders Cafe and surfed while Shawn checked for cute shoes at DSW. (Sadly, not more than one pair of cute, and for work, not pleasure.) We picked up photos from Walgreen's and Mason from school and rushed home so he and Shawn could have diner, and then I took off back to Minneapolis to coordinate with Steve and family and trailer who'd agreed help haul home a dresser that friends gave us. There was much hauling and grunting and breaking (but Shawn was able to fix everything) that culminated in a well-deserved, albeit impromptu LEGO date back at ours.

On Saturday, Mason ran away from home. Again.

This time, he was affronted by the fact that his mother and I insisted he eat “growing food” before having more Halloween candy. When we were forced to put the candy bowl in an unreachable place, he decided he could no longer stand to live here. He packed several books, a blanket, and a pillow. As he's not allowed to cross the street, he stomped off until he was just out of sight around the corner and lay his blanket out on the sidewalk and started reading.

Mason runs away a lot. This is the first time he's thought to pack for it, however. Apparently, while packing, he and mama discussed how much food he should bring. She suggested there would be more room for books if he just came home when he was hungry, and Mason being who he is, decided this was an excellent solution.

So no longer mad but ready for adventure, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and found a sunny spot on the sidewalk to spend several hours “running away.” I had been doing the dishes during a lot of this, but then decided I could kind of keep an eye out for our little run away while finally finishing raking the leaves out front.

We have a huge Maple on our hill that traditionally waits until the last possible moment before dumping all its gigantic yellow leaves. I'm often the last person on the block who needs to rake. This year was no exception. I raked and put heaps of leaves into our red wheelbarrow, and then rolled it around the block to dump into our backyard for later bagging or composting. (Going around is much easier than trying to push it back up our steep hill, though I think my neighbors thought it quite queer to see me hauling leaves around and around the block.) What was striking to me, however, was the absence of said neighbors. Despite sun and warm temps, we were the only ones out doing yard work.

Anyway, while I was raking, one of the “geezers” stopped by to talk.

There are these two really ancient guys that always briskly walk through the neighborhood every single day. They're hunched over and shuffling. They always look grumpy as hell, and, often, when I attempt to wave hello or sing a cheery “good morning,” they glare at me out from under bushy, white eyebrows. Since we see them every day, Shawn and I have dubbed them “the geezers.”

That day, the younger of the two actually called out a hello and asked if we were the parents of the little girl up at the corner of the block. I didn't correct the geezer at first because, well, he was TALKING to me and SMILING and I wanted to encourage this. (Mason, however, doesn't *not* look at all like a girl. His hair is cut in a buzz, and he dresses relatively boyish. But, I suppose if you were blind as a bat, as I suspect these guys might be, his voice is high pitched and he's awfully articulate, a trait many people associate with girls rather than boys. ) Anyway, the younger geezer goes on to tell us (Shawn had come out by this time) how enchanted he was with Mason, who we've by now explained is a boy, because he was just so charming lying in the middle of the sidewalk. The geezer said, in fact, that in the sun, Mason looked just like an angel.

How nice!

It was both the longest and the most pleasant conversation we ever had with either of them, and, as I told Shawn, when he walked away that I wondered if this meant that they had finally forgiven us for moving into Old Man Windy's house (for years people in the neighborhood gave us the business for having gotten rid of Old Man Windy's rotten, but apparently legendary, couch off our porch.)

At lunch time, Mason came back with a report about his adventure. He'd seen a Slumberland delivery truck bring a new bed to someone, another neighbor out walking her dog, and had a nice old guy talk to him. He sat on our newly raked boulevard and kept reading for a while, while I finished up, and then we all went in for sandwiches.

He later said, “It's nice being on your own sometimes, isn't it?”

It is, indeed.

Sunday was the day of projects. Mason decided he wanted to start a quilt as well as work on the LEGO Millennium Falcon. Mama and I had decided Sunday would be our semi-regular roasted chicken with all the trimmings diner. So I made bread while they sewed and sorted.

All and all a good weekend.

My favorite coffee shop is in a mall and thus, doesn't have a public toilet of its very own. The women's bathroom has been under construction for several days now. The nearest alternative requires leaving the building and going to a gas station or a book store. Or... braving the toilet of the opposite sex.

I've always found the insistence that men and women have separate bathrooms a strange relic of some distant past. Not unlike "Colored Only" except that's a REALLY BAD ANALOGY. But listen for a second: I know you guys like your urinals, but, you don't NEED them. Stalls provide privacy for all, regardless of gender. (Also, having now had experience hiding out in a stall waiting for you guys to do your business and leave... urinals seem to encourage bad hygiene. You do your thing and leave. No pause to wash hands. One word, boys: GROSS!) Perhaps if we all shared bathrooms, there would a kind of collective guilt that would cause people of both genders to stop and wash their hands before leaving.

The point is: why do we insist on separating the genders this way? It's not like houses are equipped with two separate bathrooms. Why public places?

Okay, enough of my own personal weirdness, how are you?

Mason didn't want to go to school today. He may have a bit of a sore throat for real (he's been coughing at night), but any excuse for him. It's a different reality. I was very much a big fan of school, but, honestly, I wasn't nearly as smart as Mason. I was a high achiever type, who loved all the projects and such. Mason just wants to stay home and pursue his own interests.

It's also picture re-take day today. His official picture was funky. The photographer decided that kids should smile with their mouths closed. Mason was clearly baffled by this request and his face looks strained and confused. Hopefully, a different photographer will let him laugh, like his kindergarden picture.

Today is Thursday, which means I need to go home in a few minutes and do all my Thursday chores: change the fish tanks, take out recycling, and get ready to go off to volunteer at Mason's school. Tomorrow, you won't see me because I've got plans and they don't include you. Shawn is taking the day off and we're going to pamper ourselves. We need a TGIF.

Today is an early release day for Mason. I'm hoping the weather will turn nicer and we can finish raking up the leaves that my tardy Maple tree finally dumped on our front yard. I suspect he will also attempt to talk me into heading out to a Barnes & Noble or a HPB to look for Goosebumps, which is what he wants to spend some of his gift money on. (Money for my German sales came, and we each get a little moola to spend on totally frivolous things. I should probably not have offered books, as we generally buy Mason whatever books he wants, but I said it. And, as you know, Bob, once a parent says something they have to stick with it.)

I've been working on RESURRECTION CODE. I wrote a little about why this project has been so slow going for me over at Wyrdsmiths, and some time ago I had another epiphany. It's not fun writing about Mouse before Deidre and angels and all that. So, I've come up with a way for the book to be actually a sequel and a prequel. Clever, no? The important thing is that it seems to be working.

Last night, I accidentally tuned into "Biggest Loser." I've never watched a minute of that show partly because I find it beyond post-modern to be sitting on my big, fat a$$ watching other people work out and mocking them for not losing enough weight to stay on the show. The show was just about as awful as I suspected it would be, only worse, because I realized that the people most likely to be booted are the people who most need to stay on. And that just makes me sad. Shawn and I tried to figure out what people get out of watching. What's the point of that show? Is it all about seeing large people in spandex and thinking, "Thank God/dess that's not me (yet)!"? Is it for the jiggle porn?

Then we went on to be vaguely disappointed by the newest-to-us "Dexter" disc. We're on episode 8 "The Damage a Man Can Do" in Season 3. If you don't have an episode guide handy, this is the one in which Dexter introduces Miguel to "the code" and Miguel, let's just say, reveals his darker nature. Shawn and I noted this morning that what we loved about the show was never the gruesome bits. What we liked was the character study of a sociopath, aka "the little wooden boy." We miss the voiceovers and Dexter baffled by human nature. We miss moments when Dexter struggles to pass.

I remain interested by Dexter's relationship with Rita, but Shawn just finds her annoying. We'll have to see if this is one of those shows, like BSG that we just quit hoping that we picked a good spot before the dancing robot montage ruins the entire experience for us.

In political news, I have to rant slightly. Hey, CNN, two local-yokel governors does not equal two seats in the House. This was not a Republican victory, okay? Also, we lost Maine, but we won Washington state. So shut up with your doom and gloom, all ready will ya? Stop buying the right's bull. Be a real news agency and report the facts: 8 dem wins, 2 republican wins. If you want to comment about "mandates", put down the facts first.

*sigh*

And I'm one of several thousand people who is disappointed with the instant run-off win in Saint Paul. Most of the people I know who voted for the "Australian ballot" have never used one. The Hugo awards are decided by instant run-off, and my personal opinion is that the second best story tends to win. I watched Eleanor lose a win for "Stellar Harvest" (the popular #1 choice according the LOCUS) because she wasn't everyone's favorite #2 spot. A friend of mine and I argued a bit about this this morning, and he suggested that politics are just going to be campaigned differently and instant run-off is going to break the Republican strangle hold on politics when two liberal candidates are up against one conservative. I said I hoped he was right, but that I'd bet he'd be disappointed the first time it happened in reverse or something that people were really passionate about hit the ballot like a divisive referendum for something like gay marriage. In those cases, I'd bet money that people will be pissed because passion will be out voted by the option everyone is "mostly okay with" and that kind of watered down answer will, frankly, suck.

But what can you do about it, eh?

We had a great Halloween. You?

Mason was invited to a party in the afternoon, but as the costume he chose for the evening festivities was kind of, shall we say, high maintanence, he went as Arthur Dent. He's been listening to the radio play for HITCHHICKERS GUIDE TO THE GALAXY (the way I first got introduced to that universe,) and thought throwing a towel over his shoulder was a pretty neat idea (as are digital watches.) Since this party was hosted by people who would GET who he was dressed as, which is to say geeks and nerds (yay team!), we went with that. I also dug out of the closet my old Captain Kirk outfit and tossed on a pair of black jeans and black socks (and my Converses, but I knew I'd be taking those off.) Alas, the Captain seems to have gotten a demotion! At some point the dashes between the two solid (wavy) lines fell off. I'm now a commander. What the hey! Although it was pointed out at the party that this is well in keeping with the character of Kirk who was often demoted due to any number of Federation infractions. Plus, over the last, er, thirty years since my mother sewed it for me, it's gotten tight ....and ripped. I went as the paunchy Kirk after a good fight (and a demotion.) If only they'd served Romulan ale!

Which is a little like drinking Russian vodka during the cold war, isn't it? I was always struck by the fact that the best alcohol was apparently made by the Federation's enemy and smuggled across the borders. Is THAT why we were fighting the Romulans? To get their beer???

Actually, that makes a weird kind of sense, doesn't it?

That evening, we got ready for the big Sargent Street extravaganza. This was our third year going down to Sargent Street in Saint Paul. I've told you about this before, but for those of you just now tuning in, Sargent Street is this one block party. The police block it off. Nearly every house on the block participates by doing their houses up like haunted houses and such. There are lights and ghosts on wires and Morse Dancers in the streets (I'm NOT making that last part up.) They expect nearly 2,000 visitors. Everyone is in costume. Everyone is outside, ringing door bells and shouting "Trick or Treat" just like when we were kids (okay, no one in LaCrosse went this all out, but it was traditional to walk around and actually visit your neighbors.)

For this big thing, Mason went as a scary scarecrow. We stuffed him with actual hay. We put a burlap sack over his head, cut eye holes and drew on a scary face. He wore a straw hat and gloves with fake clawes poking out of them. He looked, quite honestly, VERY freaky. It was a really good costume. We got a lot of compliments. I took some pictures, but, as most of you know, I suck at figuring out how to post such things. If I can, I will. It's well worth seeing both the Arthur Dent costume and the scarecrow.

Mason had a great time, and I'm glad he's getting the experience of going door-to-door, even if it's not in our neighborhood. Our neighborhood is pathetic, really. We decorated like crazy. We had ghost lights and blinking eyeballs, and spiders and webs and the house looked great. Since Shawn had never seen Sargent Avenue before, we decided to go on the honor system. We left a big bowl of candy out and asked people to help themselves. Usually we get less than a half dozen visitors. When we came home an hour later the entire bowl was empty. Someone decided to help themselves to all of it, I suspect. We weren't surprised, but a little disappointed anyway. The good news is that the thief got crap candy. It was lemonheads and other sour candies. Good luck eating all that without getting horribly sick, my friend. Two words: Instant Karma.

I need to go do some errands and do some writing. See ya!

Happy full moon, everyone. It's ironic, really. I have been really terrible about keeping this blog up-to-date, but one day I did.... someone was listening. I got an email from a reporter from the PIONEER PRESS on Friday asking if s/he could excerpt part of my Wednesday post for an article s/he is doing on local bloggers. So look for it in a Sunday entertainment edition coming up at some point.

I think I should be grateful I wasn't nattering on about my fish that day.

In other news, I got an e-mail from my papa who is currently teaching in Wales. Apparently, the travel gods literally threw trees in his path... or rather onto the railroad tracks. Everyone is fine, but there were lots of delays getting to where he was going, I guess. Those travel gods can be very fickle. That's why Shawn and I always carry the "travel stone" whenever we go anywhere. It's really just a piece of gravel I picked up from an alley in Minneapolis, but it's now been all over the world and much of the United States.

What happened was that I wanted to go to the Powderhorn Art Fair many, many moons ago when Shawn and I still lived in Uptown. I figured it would be easier to walk there, given the parking situation. We started out, but it was hot and Shawn decided she'd rather go home. Shawn, if you don't know, has a TERRIBLE sense of direction, which is one of the reasons that I usually drive. I really wanted to keep going, but she was really set on going back. But she was worried she'd get lost. So, I picked up a piece of gravel and handed it to her. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "What's this?" I said, "It's magic. You can't get lost as long as you have it."

And she made it home, so we figured it did have a bit of magic in it, and we've taken it on every trip we've gone on since.

Sometimes if we're really worried about the wrath of the travel gods (like the one time we landed in Gatwick and the fire trucks came out on to the tarmack to greet us because the landing gear light was stuck in the "not deployed" mode. It turned out to be one of the smoothest landings ever, but I can't remember being more scared when the captain came on the intercom to tell us that we might not have wheels. We might just have to do a belly flop. Not cool!) Anyway, when we're nervous, we will sometimes send postcards home with notes like, "Hi, Lyda, Hi Shawn, glad you made it back home safely! What a pleasant trip! Everything was on time. No delays!"

Mason's reading camp went really well. Did I tell you about this? I actually thought Mason was making this up because it seemed so much like a dream come true for him. He told his mama (whom he has been known to pull the wool over with things like "mining lab") that his first grade class was going to have reading camp last Friday where everyone got to bring a sleeping bag, a stuffed animal, and books to read ALL DAY LONG. I thought, "No way! That's just too awesome." Turns out, it was what they did. They had breaks where they made bookmarks and had guest readers (I was one of them), but otherwise it was reading. Mason took THE HOBBIT, which he's been enjoying re-reading. I think he's read it three times already.

My attempt as guest reader was pretty... uh, interesting, as we say here in Minnesota. Alas, the teacher decided that while I read she'd prepare the s'mores and have kids come up and get them in waves. Suffice to say, the attention was NOT on me and "Hallow-Weiner" by Dav Plinkey (author of CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS). But, you know, having taught six to ten year olds Cartooning as part of "college for kids," I was at least prepared for the countless screaming Argonauts that is a distracted first grade classroom.

Oops, it looks like it's time for me to get ready to go. Today is the day I go to the coffeeshop and write with a number of the Wyrdsmiths. And, yes, my friends, I will be working on RESURRECTION CODE. It's my intention to focus on that book until the end of the year. I really hope to have it done and off to the publisher by Christmas. Wish me luck!

This week has totally escaped me. It's all this revision and writing work. But the good news is that the revisions are done and have been e-mailed to the publisher. Hooray! Last night Shawn and I celebrated by opening a bottle of champaign (no, really, we always have some around) and watching "Last Legion" (which, btw, is an AWESOME movie.)

Today, I'm at the coffee shop working on a proposal for a new series. When last we left our intrepid heroine, Penguin had killed off the Garnet series, but remained "interested" in seeing some kind of contemporary urban fantasy series from Tate. So I'm trying to predict the next hot, new thing and writing up some kind of plot treatment around it. I have several ideas. The hard bit is writing ten or more pages of a synopsis.... I'm giving myself a couple of weeks and then it's time to get cracking on RESURRECTION CODE (finally!)

Completely out of context, I ask: when did *you* read THE HOBBIT? How old were you?

Mason read it yesterday. We'd started by reading it to him in drips and drabs before bed, but he finally got frustrated with how slowly that was happening that he picked the book up and re-started at the beginning and read straight through to the end in two days. The best part was when we were all in the TV room reading (natch!) and he got so excited about the battle with Smaug that he had to get up and dance and tell us the blow-by-blow between giggles and squeals.

I remember reading THE HOBBIT in sixth grade.

I remember because, thanks to my dyslexia, THE HOBBIT is the first adult-sized book I read cover-to-cover. I had a lot of trouble finishing adult-size novels (I still do) because reading was (and often still is) a lot of work. I really have to care about the hero/ine to push through several hundred pages. Mason, I'm happy to say, doesn't have that problem.

In fact, he's excited to get started on FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING. I told him that I'd love to read that with him, if only because it's been so long since I read it, it would be fun to remember as we read along. Plus, it's a very different set of books than THE HOBBIT. THE HOBBIT, reading it out loud, reminded me of Beatrix Potter's style. There's a lot of fun play with words, humor in detail, and such that is very much like many of her works. I'll be curious to see how FELLOWSHIP compares.

In other news, I'm writing to you from the coffee shop on my new-to-me iBook. It took me some time to figure out how to actually GET on line, but now that I have, I have to say "whoot!"

That's about all I know. Mason also read DIARY OF A WIMPY KID as well as the DEAR DUMB DIARY series. Don't tell Mason, but the DEAR DUMB DIARY books are marketed to girls. He could care less. He thinks "My Pants Are Haunted" is one of the best books _ever_ (he read it twice), never mind that the thrust of the plot revolves around a middle grade girl trying to catch the attention of the school's cutest boy and maintaining her place in the popularity strata.

I have to admit that when he first showed interest in the DEAR DUMB DIARY books, I considered explaining to him that these are meant as "girl" books, but then I thought, "shut up and let him decide, why don't you?" Especially since at Gaylaxicon, I listened to the GoH Lawrence Schmeil explain that it was the parents who most tried to convince their boys to pick up the books with boy heroes when what they really wanted was the book with dragons regardless of what gender fought the dragon.

For Mason what's important is the humor. The humor level in DEAR DUMB DIARY is higher than in DIARY OF A WIMPY KID (I say this with some authority having read bits of both books for myself). DEAR DUMB DIARY has a lot of laugh out loud moments, and a lot of OMG! situations that Mason finds funny as heck.

Tonight, we're headed of to hell... er, I mean Chuck E. Cheese for a birthday party for one of Mason's colleagues. Speaking of books, Mason's friend requested CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS, which, speaking of humor, Mason absolutely adores. It'll be nice for Mason to have a friend with a book in common. He got a taste of that the other day when, as we were walking into school, we were chatting about LotR and all the things that would be coming in the next books, and one of the older kids perked up and said, "I love those!" Mason and he exchanged a few excited jabberings about hobbits and orcs and elves before we had to go our separate ways.

Anyway, I should go back to working on the proposal and finding myself some lunch. Have a great day!

Two seconds ago (almost literally) I got an email from my agent regarding the German publisher's plans to rename the first two books in Tate's series. The first one, which was originally TALL, DARK & DEAD will be NICHT SCHON WIEDER EIN VAMPIR (Not Another Vampire) and the second, originally DEAD SEXY will become, BEISS NOCH EINMAL MIT GEFUEHL (Bite Once More, With Feeling).

Tell me what you think! Especially you German-speakers out there.

I have to say that for my part, I love NOT ANOTHER VAMPIRE. I think it works on a lot of levels. It plays with the current glut of vampire novels out there, it nicely refers to Garnet's penchant for vampire lovers (first Parrish, then Sebastian) *and* the fact that Sebastian is not your average vampire. Lovely!

The other one is just cute. (Also if I've mis-transcribed the German, it's my dyslexia, not the German publishers fault.)

Also, my friend and fellow author naomikritzer sent me a link to an article in the Guardian that says that angels are the new vampires according to Anne Rice. Angels the New Vampires. I can only hope she's right and my publisher will not only want back the rights to my previous books, but also that I could propose an urban fantasy involving angels, which would be fun as heck (or perhaps HELL) for me (and might get some of you guys to read my Tate Hallaway books!)

Also I have to shout out to Eleanor's partner Patrick Wood for the permanent loan of a new-to-me Mac laptop so I can finish out the revisions for Tate's last Garnet book without having to strain my neck at this big computer. It's really spiffy and Patrick put a lot of work into it to make it user friendly for me. Do I have awesome friends or what?

Speaking of which, I must eat lunch and hit the notebook. I want to get those revisions turned in tonight so I can get going on all the OTHER crap I need to do this year.

Okay, I should be working on revisions, but Mason is home from school (some scheduled deal -- I swear kids spend every other Friday home.) We went to the library this morning. I should learn never to go to the library with a list of books I want to find. My library never has them. I have to order them or put myself on a waiting list. I did pick up Scott Westerfeld's SO YESTERDAY, though what I really wanted was the first of his UGLIES/PRETTIES series. While I was searching him in the database, I discovered Westerfeld wrote EVOLUTION'S DARLING, a book (and short story) that I found strange yet compelling. So when they had SO YESTERDAY on the shelf and it didn't seem to be the third or thirteenth book in a series, I picked it up. The nice thing about the library is that if it's not my taste, I can just drop it off. No questions asked.

I finished Willis' INSIDE JOB last night after Wyrdsmiths. That book was pretty awesome. I hesitate to recommend it because it might be hard to find, as Subterranean Press is somewhat smallish. Anyway, I ripped through it, though, like I noted yesterday, it's a small book, maybe even just a novellette.

A friend recommended VELLUM: THE BOOK OF ALL HOURS by Hal Duncan, which I tried to find at the library to no avail. It was supposed to be on the shelf, but it wasn't! When I took Mason to HalfPrice Books, there it was, tauting me. So I bought it. (I hope it doesn't suck! I can't return it!)

Also, since all of the kids are reading it, I tried to check out BONESHAKER by Cherie Priest but my library had ordered it but not put it in the system officially yet. No one has dropped one used yet, no surprise, though, since it's so new.

If you can't tell, all I want to do on a snowy day like today is curl up with one of these books and read. I don't want to work on my revisions, especially since I have to sit at the "big" computer to write (as opposed to my paperweight of a laptop.) After this Backyardigans is over, I'm going to coax Mason out into the cold. We need to check and see if a local computer shop has a replacement cord. It would be nice to be able to use my laptop sooner rather than later. Obviously the big computer works fine (since I'm using it to write to you), but it's not as comfy as laying on the couch or in the bed and I've gotten awfully spoiled by the convenience of that.

Also, I have to say my instinct was right. There's been a thread about advances on a list of professional SF/F writers that I belong to that I have quite purposefully avoided. Knowing what other people get paid for their writing is potentially crazy-making. The thread came up at Wyrdsmiths and I actually got interested enough to check it out this morning. Mistake. Now I feel even LESS like doing my revisions. Although if I don't do them, I don't get paid at all....

Though I don't really have that much to do. Some of it is very simple. But, like I've been saying, I've been paying more attention to the book because it *is* the last of the Garnet books and I don't want it to be a disappointment to readers.

I need to get it off my plate, though, because the next big thing I need to do is come up with some proposals for more adult books by Tate. My editor is willing to consider more contemporary urban fantasy. I'd like to be able to give my agent a range of ideas, maybe a half dozen. Shawn and I came up with some ideas, but I need to flesh them out into proposals so I have something to offer.

Plus all my web pages are woefully out-dated.

Stuff to do!