...can't trust that day.

Getting out of bed this morning was complicated by the fact that I was so thoroughly covered by cats that I had to practically do sit-ups to recover the use of one arm. This is the true danger of having large cats. When they want to, they win.

Still, the weekend was good, despite back issues which kept me abed a bit longer than I wanted them to on Sunday (as in, "they kept me abed on Sunday"). The new episode of Doctor Who, "The Girl Who Waited," was stellar. The season premiere of iCarly was excellent. I managed to package two-thirds of the pending poster orders for shipping. I made Chris watch War of the Worlds: Live, which was the big concert of selections from the War of the Worlds musical (complete with giant floating Richard Burton head). And Contagion...

...seriously, this movie was designed to be porn for Seanans. It could not have made me happier if it had come with the first theatrical trailer for the upcoming prequel to The Thing.

OH WAIT. IT DID.

Now, I want to note, firmly, that this is not a movie for people who are looking for plot, detailed characterization, clear enemies, happy endings, or absolutely absolute endings. It's a story about a virus. Viruses don't have secondary motivations. They don't have desires. They just have biological imperatives, and when they start exercising those imperatives, it's the job of people like the CDC, EIS, and WHO to step in and try to make them stop. Characters don't get detailed back stories or motivations, because there isn't time.

And yes, lots and lots and lots of people die. That's what happens when this sort of thing occurs. It's a good movie. It's smart, it's solid, and while the science is extremely rushed (and several layers of medical care are missing), it's rushed in the way that says "we needed a two-hour narrative, not a twenty-hour miniseries," rather than being rushed in the way that says "honey badger didn't give a fuck."

If you're not a germaphobe, I recommend this movie hugely. If you are, I recommend you stay home and watch iCarly. Or War of the Worlds: Live.

Ulla!

Words: 9,843.
Total words: 48,180.
Reason for stopping: I have finished chapter twelve. Now is the time of sleeping.
Music: mostly Pink, Dar Williams, and Ludo. Still.
The cats: Alice, demanding I stop typing and love her. Others, unknown.

...well, that happened. And yes, the temptation to write just another two hundred words and break the 10k barrier was very strong. I have suppressed it by reminding the little voice that asks for such things that we're on track to break 50k on Wednesday (I get Tuesday nights off), and that's pretty damn awesome. Ashes of Honor is projected to be "average length" for a Toby book, which means between 101,000 and 112,000 words. Probably somewhere in the middle. So hey, I have almost half a book! Woo-hoo!

In the text, I can say without spoilers that Toby and Quentin have reached Tamed Lightning, and everything is going about as well as can be expected at this stage in a Toby book. So I get to have April O'Leary-flavored goodness for at least five minutes before everything goes to hell.

Finding the balance between "look, if you're reading book six in the series, I really hope you've read the first five" and "previously, on October..." is fascinating, and incredibly difficult. Every book, I get people who complain that there's too much back story, and people who complain that there's not enough; I have to find the ragged edge between them and skate along it like my life depends on it. I think I'm getting better at it, but there's so much background now that it's still occasionally very hard.

I'm making my goals; the book is moving along at a decent clip; while there will doubtless be extensive rewrites and at least one crying jag, I expect to have a finished first draft by the end of October.

Yay.