Tomorrow, Feed is officially released. That's one. Saturday, Feed is guaranteed to be on sale everywhere. That's five. Numbers, numbers, numbers. I am defined by numbers. Numbers are my bread and my butter, and the things that keep me from going crazy in a bad way.

Both of these are prime. That's something.

I'm a lot mellower about this book release than I expected to be. This may be because I'm getting better at this whole "book release" thing, or it may just be that I'm still completely exhausted following all the crazy surrounding A Local Habitation and finishing Deadline, and simply lack the energy to be insane. I still teared up the first time I saw it on an actual shelf in an actual store (the Borders in Pleasant Hill). Which reminds me, these are the locations where you can buy a signed copy, right now:

* Borders, Pleasant Hill
* Barnes & Noble, San Bruno

Both stores also have signed copies of the Toby Daye books. If you're not local, or want something personalized, remember that I'll be appearing at Borderlands Books on Saturday, May 8th. The store does take requests for personalized books to be mailed basically anywhere on this planet. You can email or call them, and I'd be just tickled to sign a book for you during the event. (Plus, well, if you can't support your local by buying a signed book, be a sport and support my local.)

One day, five days, and my second book release of the year is fully and finally underway, the next grand adventure off and running. I am elated and terrified, and tired.

I need a nap.

When will you rise?

Yes! I have the sign-off, and the second book in the Newsflesh trilogy, Deadline, has been sent safely off to my publisher, where it can be someone else's problem for a little while. (Note that this doesn't actually mean the book is in its final form, since Orbit has the right to request changes and edits—I made changes and edits to Feed after it had been turned in—but I become a much happier bunny after it's slammed down on my editor's virtual desk. That means I made my deadline. I win)

Final book stats:

149,142 words.
513 pages.
Twenty-seven chapters.

I love finishing the process of finishing a book (and yes, that sentence is supposed to look like that; finishing things is hard). It lets me fall in love all over again. I talk about writing books like it's building a house. Revisions are what happen when the house is flawed, and needs to be torn down and built back up again. But finishing is just going through and making it a showplace, ready to be shown off to the world. The heavy lifting is done, and suddenly the book...the book is just amazing all over again. It's a book.

If there's any point during the process where I am totally uncritical of myself, it's this moment, right here. Don't worry, it will pass.

Now I get to settle in and work on the third book in the trilogy, and then...then I'm done. All finished, no more effort, no more struggle, just done. I love these people. I've loved them for years. I hope that when you meet them, you'll love them, too. But for now, I'm turning it in.

Yay.

I spend a lot of time trying to explain literary rights to my mother, who is trying very gamely to learn all the weirdness of the world of publishing. It probably doesn't help that my understanding in many arenas remains fuzzy, so my explanations involve a lot of waving my hands and going "blah blah blah fishcakes." She takes this with reasonably good grace. I have a good mom.

Right now, I keep trying to explain foreign rights sales. Because you see, right now—during the conveniently timed volcanic ash cloud, oops—the London Book Fair is going on. This is one of the biggest foreign rights sales events in the world. If I want Toby in the United Kingdom and the Masons in Japan, this is very likely where it's going to happen. I am thus, I think understandably, a little twitchy about foreign rights at the moment.

I've had awesome luck with foreign rights, in part because I have an awesome foreign rights agent, who works very hard to get my stuff out there. Toby has been sold in Germany and Russia; the Newsflesh trilogy has been sold in Germany. I'd really like a UK edition of the Toby books, and a French edition of both, but there's no counting on it; I need to sit back and wait to see how things settle out. But oh, how I wants it, my precious. I wants it bad. There's the artistic reason ("I just want more people to be able to enjoy Toby's adventures!"), and then there's the capitalist reason ("I really, really want to go full-time before I catch fire from lack of sleep").

My actual reasons are somewhere in the middle. I genuinely do want my books to be accessible to the entire world...and I really, really want to get up every morning, write for a while, take a walk, write for a while longer, and not have a commute further than bed-to-chair. Foreign sales aren't likely to change the world completely, but as many authors of my acquaintance can tell you, good worldwide positioning can make a huge difference in your end-of-year bottom line. Maybe even a full-time writer (or part-time day job) level of difference.

And this is why I'm crazy this week.

First order of business for today: the winner of our random ARC drawing! Statistically speaking, all numbers are equally likely when you're talking about random selection, but it's always a little bit surprising when the result is between one and ten. So today was definitely surprising, as the random number generator chose "four." So today's winner is apocalypticbob! Bob, please send me your mailing information via my website contact link. You have twenty-four hours. After that, I'll choose another winner if I haven't heard from you!

Second order of business for today: It is now nineteen days to the official "anywhere you go, you will be able to buy a copy of Feed for your very own, and isn't that terrifying?" release of Mira Grant's first novel. In addition to being hugely important in Stephen King's epic Dark Tower saga (say thankee), nineteen is a pretty awesome number in and of itself. It's the eighth prime number, following seventeen and preceding twenty-three. It actually forms a twin prime with seventeen (I like twin primes). It's the seventh seventh Mersenne prime exponent, and the aliquot sum of two odd discrete semiprimes, sixty-five and seventy-seven. All these things are awesome.

Nineteen days. By the time we finish this countdown, Amy will be here to keep me from flipping out on people, the final touches will be put on party planning, and I will hopefully have been able to pick up my Mira wig from the hair shop (I am so the Hannah Montana of horror). The cupcakes will be ordered. My reading will be chosen (yes, there will be a reading this time). Prizes for the raffle will be arranged. And I will hopefully still be breathing. Nineteen days.

When will you rise?

So let's review, shall we? I started this week a) exhausted from a comic book convention, b) with my back doing its best to murder me in my sleep, c) under deadline, and d) with the announcement that I am on the ballot for the 2010 Campbell Award. The first two have been sorting themselves out—I've had time to sleep, and my back is recovering, since I'm taking things relatively easy—but I'm still under deadline, and I'm still on the ballot.

(This whole thing feels a lot like when I first sold the Toby books. All I wanted to do was go up to strangers and be like "I just sold my first series!" All the strangers wanted me to do was leave them alone. So my friends wind up with a lot of really random-ass interjections. "What do you want for dinner?" "A tiara in Australia!" "Yes, but other than that, what do you want for dinner?" "I'm on the ballot!" "So we're having Baja Fresh again?" I try to keep this as non-offensive as possible, but really, it's like a constant GOTO loop at the back of my brain right now.)

Last night, I sat down with the goal of banging out 2,000 words on "Through This House," a Toby short set between Late Eclipses and The Brightest Fell. It's potentially for an anthology, and I wanted to make some definitive progress before I allowed myself to watch this week's episode of Castle. When I came up for air 4,000 words later, the first draft was done, and I felt vaguely as if I'd been hit with a brick. Tonight, I'm going to try to pull the same trick with "Build a Better...," an Alice/Thomas/colony of over-excitable pantheistic demon mice short (being written as the other option for the same anthology). Then, this weekend, I'll try to get three out of three by whipping through "Last Dance With Mary Jane," the Sparrow Hill Road story for June.

Sleep is for the weak and sickly.

In the cracks between the rushing, I've been dealing with taxes, trying to clean my room whilst entirely incapable of bending (it's a good thing I have flexible toes), and revamping both my websites, since the whole "on an internationally-published ballot" has been shoving a lot of traffic in my direction. It's fun like hysteria! And to be honest, I really am loving every minute of it. I am a sad, sad bunny-girl sometimes. So sad.

Next up, a webcomic endorsement, a Feed giveaway, some weird monkey noises, and a funky little dance. Whee!

Bit #1: Toby has actually made it to the final four in the GIRL FIGHT TONIGHT, and she and Professor McGonagall are running literally neck-in-neck. Consider that a moment. Toby is a viable contender for defeating Professor McGonagall. The world has gone insane, and your vote could help her get to the finals, where she can have the pleasure of having her ass handed to her by Granny Weatherwax. Which is a victory unto itself, really.

Bit #2: Alcestis [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy] is a retelling of the classical Greek myth of Alcestis in the Underworld, and is just breathtakingly gorgeous. I am glad to own this in hardcover, because despite it taking up additional space, it is now sturdy enough to survive the many, many re-reads that it will be receiving as the years slip by. It's a beautiful book. Pair it with Malinda Lo's Ash and you have the perfect late Valentine (or early).

Bit #3: Castle has been picked up for a third season, guaranteeing me another night of brilliant television as time goes by. I really feel like I'm in something of a golden age, television-wise. I have my caper show (Leverage), my wacky science fiction (Eureka, Warehouse 13), my serious science fiction (Fringe), my comedy (Big Bang Theory), my mystery (Castle), and my good-n-gory (NCIS, Bones). Really, the networks don't need to do anything new with the upcoming season. I'm good.

Bit #4: Toby is still a contender in the Fourth Annual BSC Review Tournament, but her current round—in which she's going up against Juliet Marillier's Heart's Blood—remains very nearly too close to call. We're moving toward the end of the tournament, and it would be bad-ass to progress at least one more round, so please, if you have the chance, bop over and drop a vote.

Bit #5: I am apparently writing at least one short story (and maybe more than one, knowing me and my scary over-achieving ways) set before A Local Habitation, focusing on and narrated by January O'Leary. You can meet her girlfriend! Who is awesome, and puts up with an immense amount of crap from her scary technophile significant other.

Bit #6: Wondercon is this weekend! I am super-excited, and plan to spend the entire weekend wandering the floor, seeing awesome stuff, and learning new and exciting things about the X-Men. Because there is always something new and exciting to learn about the X-Men. (Hopefully not "Jean Grey is coming back," but things can't be wonderful forever.) I have also purchased my tickets for San Diego, which becomes a little more real every day. GEEK PROM IS GO!

Bit #7: Starfish loves you.

Ah, Spring in California. When the grass is green, the sky is blue, the birds sing outside your bedroom window at five o'clock in the morning like little feathered assholes, and a young author's mind turns to thoughts of copyedits. And rewrites. And word counts. And deadlines. And did I mention that I'm mildly insane, like, all the time right now?

Right now, I have open on my desktop two short stories ("Through This House," starring Toby and the gang, and "Build A Better..." starring Alice and Thomas and the mice), the current manuscript for Deadline, and the sixth of the Sparrow Hill Road stories ("Last Dance With Mary Jane"). I don't have The Brightest Fell open, but that's because this is a Deadline day. The two alternate, to try to preserve the last thin slivers of my sanity. In addition, I'm working on essays, interviews, other short pieces...

Someone asked me recently why I'm obsessing about Internet cage matches and art cards and bad zombie movies. The answer is simple: because they're silly and harmless and don't actually care whether I have pants on. And I need the break.

I'm about three days out from going into overdrive on Feed, which will consume my life until the page proofs for An Artificial Night arrive. Those will consume my life for a while, and then go away just in time for my editorial revisions on Deadline. And so it goes, and so it goes. So if you're wondering why I seem a little bit, well, shallow right now, it's because the deep end of the pool is filled with sea serpents and other toothy things, and I am enjoying the remainder of my toes.

Actually, it's currently "Sunday morning, sort of off-gray sky filled with occasional clouds and colder than it ought to be this time of yeah, ha ha, little California girl, ha ha." But I like the original phrase just a little bit better.

Yesterday was my "goof off" day for March, and today, I buckle back down to work, with several short stories and a bunch of novel revisions on the docket (Deadline and The Brightest Fell, for the curious). I won't be turning off my Internet, because I keep too much information there, but I won't be my normal rapid-response self, either. Tomorrow, I'll finally select the winners of the icon contest (assisted by a panel of impartial judges without entries of their own) and figure out how we're handling judging for the SURPRISINGLY POPULAR "Mira Grant is..." contest. Other than by staring in awe.

If you haven't voted in the Fourth Annual BSC Review Tournament, please consider stopping by. This brutal tourney pits a year's-worth of book releases against one another in bloody single combat, and only one can emerge victorious. Toby rallied for a little bit, but the tide has turned. Her latest match is against Juliet Marillier's Heart's Blood, and she's getting the smackdown. Rally! Help Toby progress! Especially since catvalente's Palimpsest is still swinging (currently against The Red Wolf Conspiracy by Robert V. S. Redick), and there's a wacky bonus comic strip in it for you if we wind up facing off in the final round.

Pretty please?

The world is full of things, and the things are full of stuff, and the stuff is all time-sensitive for me, so I'm going to get back to work now. I'll check in later. Please don't set anything on fire.

So currently, I am...

...working on The Agent's revisions to Deadline, all of which have been totally awesome, erudite, and coherent (at least so far; for all I know, I'm going to hit page 200 and suddenly she'll be demanding I insert evil clowns and flying monkeys). I'm addressing the manuscript 10% (IE, fifty pages) at a time, so that I can imagine a little progress bar guiding me sweetly toward the conclusion of draft two. Currently, the status bar stands at 20%. Since I started work yesterday, I am not yet freaking out over this.

...hammering away on The Brightest Fell (Toby Daye, book five), which, like, woke up one morning and just decided that it wasn't going to suck anymore. Seriously. This book has been a petulant brat for ages, and then bam, all of a sudden, it was all "La la la, I am ready to play nicely with the other children." So now I'm burning pages, the stakes are getting higher, the action's getting tighter, and Toby's having one of her Worst Weeks Ever. I'm always happy when Toby is having one of her Worst Weeks Ever. This is why Toby will eventually find a way to kill me in my sleep.

...getting content up on MiraGrant.com. If you go there right now, you'll still get the splash page, but I promise you, Behind The Scenes, Things Are Brewing. We'll be ready to launch super-soon, and when we do, look out world! Tara has done an incredible job with the site design, and Chris has done an equally incredible job with the coding. And of course, there's things afoot over on the Orbit side of things, and soon the whole world will be asking the question that's been gnawing at me for a while now: When will you rise?

...writing two short stories for the same anthology, since that's the only way to have a proper cage match between the two (thus letting me determine which one works better). In this corner, Toby, Danny, and Quentin do stuff involving poking things with sticks and following the basic rules of horror movie survival (IE, "When the house tells you to get out, you leave"). In this corner, Alice, Thomas, and the mice go wandering around the woods looking for fricken nests, and face the usual dangers inherent in doing what a tribe of talking pantheistic mice tells you to do. Fun!

...finishing the sixth Sparrow Hill Road story, "Last Dance With Mary Jane," in which we finally find out what actually happened on the night Rose Marshall died. This is sort of where the series turns, and where everything else that happens becomes inevitable. I'm really excited.

...really in need of a nap.

I will have a silly, silly contest starting later today, and remember, the various cage matches are still going on. Help Toby deliver the ULTIMATE SMACKDOWN, thus earning her a pretty tiara that she won't wear and a Starbucks gift card that she will use up in an afternoon.

Some days, you think about politics, philosophy, and art. Some days, Pliny and Socrates are the defining stars of your existence. Some days, the question of which came first—the chicken or the egg—is all-consuming, worthy of endless contemplation and consideration. Some days, just the movement of the heavens is enough to take your breath away, leaving you locked in endless awe of the cosmos and all its wonders.

Some days, you're just not that deep.

Guess what kind of day I'm having?

I spend a lot of time locked in intellectual pursuits. Maybe "figuring out strategic survival tactics and social innovations following the zombie apocalypse" and "building a better pandemic" aren't your standard thought experiments, but they're time-consuming and they take a lot of mental processing power. I guess it's only natural that I'd occasionally get exhausted and want to spend a few hours gazing off into space, counting air molecules while Food Network amuses the cats. (Seriously, they love Iron Chef, although Alice has been known to attack the screen when Bobby Flay comes on.) This also accounts for my love of movies like Dinoshark*, one more gem from the SyFy mines.

Tonight, everything will change. Tonight, I have edits to process on two short stories, a battle plan to write for tomorrow's official opening of the San Diego International Comic Convention hotel block, and at least eight pages of The Brightest Fell to get through. Tonight, I need to sit down and seriously outline two potential urban fantasy shorts, one Toby-based, one InCryptid-based. Tonight, I must brush the cat. But all of that is tonight, and right now, it's daylight, and I'm just not that deep.

Thinking is hard. Let's have strawberry ice cream.

(*Over the course of a two-hour movie, Dinoshark eats a kayak, several swimmers, an expedition boat, a crocodile, and a helicopter. Dinoshark is totally metal, yo.)

Today is the official release date for A Local Habitation [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy], available now in bookstores across North America. The Kindle edition comes out on March 9th; I do not know why there is a week's delay between the two, but it's a great opportunity for you Kindle-lovers to pick up a physical copy, read it, and give it your local women's shelter. ;)

Because this is What We Do Around Here, I present our resident little dead ghoul, Mel, all dressed up for the occasion. Not that she has anywhere to go, as she has a tendency to get herself barred from all pleasant social venues. Something about killing the other patrons...

But yes, it is my release day. I have an Amy and several puffy cats, and have thus far resisted the urge to smack my head against anything. Now help the bookstores empty their shelves by rushing out and bringing Toby home with you!

My pre-release countdown for A Local Habitation [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy] continues. I'm six days out now. Books have been sighted all over the place (although still not in my home town, which is probably good for my overall level of twitchiness, if not for the local folks who want to buy them). And I've been thinking a lot about urban fantasy.

I've been thinking so much about urban fantasy, in fact, that it's today's countdown item. So there.

6 Awesome Things About Urban Fantasy.

6. Because urban fantasy is a relatively new genre, there's a lot of flexibility for making up rules as you go along. No one says "oh, this book was terrible because they didn't all meet up in a bar and there was no quest for the magical wing-diddy of Macguffindonia." There's an insane amount of freedom in urban fantasy.

5. Because urban fantasy in an incredibly old genre that's just making its reappearance, there are centuries of tradition to draw on. Seem like a contradiction? It's not. As I've said many times, we are the children of Lily Fair, and we are carrying on the traditions of our fairy tale ancestors. There are monsters in those woods.

4. Urban fantasy gives its authors the freedom to play with creatures from both sides of the divide between "fantasy" and "horror." You can have pixies and werewolves, if that's what makes you happy, and nobody gets to tell you different. It's awesome.

3. The modern/pseudo-modern settings of most urban fantasies make it easier to build engrossing and detailed non-human societies, without needing to first introduce your readers to a whole new reality. That creates an illusionary accessibility that reveals itself only when it's too late to escape. Mwahahaha.

2. The scope of urban fantasy means that it really does contain something for everybody. Maybe you don't like my work. That's fine. Kelley Armstrong is more horror, and Kim Harrison is more sexy, and Anton Strout is more funny. We can find you a match!

1. All the ass-kicking heroines. Naturally.

So I'm existing on a diet of Diet Dr Pepper, canned peas, and plain-baked chicken breasts with way too many mushrooms, and I'm waking up earlier every morning (new record: 5:02 AM). I thus figure it's time to give the general status updates, before I'm too fried to think straight.

Books. I have three coming out in 2010: A Local Habitation [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy] and An Artificial Night as me, and Feed [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy] as Mira Grant. I have one currently due in 2010, Deadline (the sequel to Feed).

In addition to the books that are already sold/slated for publication, I have one finished October Daye book, Late Eclipses, and one finished InCryptid book, Discount Armageddon. I am currently working on The Brightest Fell (Toby five), Midnight Blue-Light Special (InCryptid two), and Sit, Stay, I Hate You (Coyote Girls two). In 2010, I'm planning to finish all three of these, start on Blackout (Newsflesh three), start on Ashes of Honor (Toby six), and start on Hunting Grounds (InCryptid three). I am not planning on a particularly large quantity of sleep.

There's currently a contest running to win an ARC of A Local Habitation. Drop by and give it a shot!

Short Stories. I'm one of the 2010 universe authors for The Edge of Propinquity, which is running my Sparrow Hill Road series for the rest of the year. The second story, "Dead Man's Party," went live earlier this week, and I'm working on the fifth story, "El Viento Del Diablo," which should be finished in a week or so. After that comes "Last Dance With Mary Jane," which will answer a lot of questions people have been asking for a very long time. This is a series heavily influenced by the mythology of the American highway, and with a very strong soundtrack accompanying every story. There will be playlists! Much fun.

I have various other short stories out on secret missions, including two Fighting Pumpkins adventures ("Dying With Her Cheer Pants On" and "Gimme a 'Z'!"), my first-ever steampunk piece ("Alchemy and Alcohol," which comes complete with cocktail recipes), and an actual Mira Grant short story ("Everglades"). I'm noticing a high level of dead stuff in my recent short story output. Somehow, this is not striking me as terribly surprising.

Non-fiction. My essay in Chicks Dig Time Lords [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy] will be available later this month, along with, y'know, the rest of the book, which includes an essay from my beloved Tara O'Shea. So if you've ever wondered why I love math and have trouble with linear time, you should probably pick up a copy of this book. (You should do that anyway, because the book is awesome, but that's beside the point.)

My introduction for jennifer_brozek's In A Gilded Light will also be available with the rest of the book, sometime in mid-2010. I plan to finish the "On Writing" series by the end of 2010.

Albums. Work on Wicked Girls is proceeding apace, and beginning to pick up speed as we get deeper into the process of mixing and arranging songs. I'm scheduling my various instrumentalists to come into the studio and get their parts recorded, and some of the arrangements are just going to be incredible. I still need to confirm the covers for this album, and start thinking about graphic design, but I'm still really, really pleased. There's no confirmed release date yet, and there's not going to be one until we're a lot closer to done: as I've said a few times, as soon as there's a deadline, this ceases to be fun and relaxing, and right now, we're too far from finished for that to be a good idea.

I'm within a hundred copies of being entirely out of Stars Fall Home (my first studio album), and right now, I couldn't tell you if or when there's going to be another printing. I'm doing a little better for Pretty Little Dead Girl, but at the current rate, I'd estimate that I'll be out (or very close to out) by this time next year. Red Roses and Dead Things, being my most recent release, is also the one with the most remaining stock (paradoxically, it's also my fastest seller, since a lot of folks don't have it yet). In summary, if you're missing any of my first three albums, you may want to consider whether you're going to want them, because when they're gone, they're gone.

Cats. Alice continues to steal mass from the very center of the sun, growing at a rate usually seen only in big green dudes who have been exposed to Gamma radiation. She's pissed at Cat Valente, who keeps showing pictures of a very enticing kitten, and then not sending the kitten through the screen. Lilly, meanwhile, has taken to jangling her bell right next to my ear in the middle of the night to express her displeasure with the state of the food supply. Lilly wants to be mittens.

And that's the local weather report. Back to you, Ken.

I have all these things I want to talk about. Like, my little running junk file contains about three dozen links, and a long list of blog topics (written in my customary all-caps shorthand, so the word "fuck" is pretty heavily represented—sometimes I'm a Kevin Smith movie). Instead, I spent much of my morning mastering the phrase "working for our robot overlords—did I say 'overlords'? I meant 'protectors,'" in American Sign Language. This is a highly useful phrase, and one which I am currently using quite a lot. Sure, I'm using it quite a lot because I just learned how to say it, but the theory is sound.

Other things I can say in ASL:

* The turtle couldn't/can't help you/me/us.
* I will kill you with a chainsaw now.
* I have a parasite inside my brain.
* Ninja!
* Giant metal Santa Claus.
* The salad of infinite despair.
* Moose lobotomy time. Call the moose lobotomist.
* Die in a fire.
* The Black Death.
* Octopus fellatio.
* Science/mad science.
* I want to eat your brain.
* ZOMBIE.

Naturally, I have learned these specific phrases because they are extremely useful in my daily life, and not because I enjoy signing "the salad of infinite despair" at people when they annoy me. Honest.

My current adventures in ASL are strongly fueled by the fact that I have essentially managed to freezer burn my brain as I race through Deadline like I'm being pursued by a pack of rabid weasels. The book is about 15,000 words from over, and I have a very solid idea of what all those words need to be; it's just a matter of getting them onto the page. I alternate between wanting to snarl at anything that keeps me from writing, and wanting to keep myself from writing, since soon, I won't have a book anymore. There will be other books. There will be edits and revisions on this book. But it won't be the same, and it will never be the same again, and after this, I only get to spend one more book in this universe. That's going to hurt. In the course of three volumes, I'll have essentially written four and a half Toby books-worth of story (these are big-ass books), and that makes the Masons and their companions really well-established denizens of my head. I'm going to wind up writing the parasite trilogy just to get myself through the grieving stage. This is, by the way, why I am drowning in series.

(I have friends who only write in single volumes. Bam bam bam, book book book, done. They view my addiction to series with horrified confusion, and some of them have commented that they wish they could do that. In the spirit of the seaweed always being greener in somebody else's lake, I envy the people who can write a book and be done. The closest I get to writing a book and being done is plotting to give certain characters only one POV volume in the InCryptid series. My brain is wired oddly.)

One of my "waiting in the wings" protagonists is a woman named Alice Price-Healy (Verity's grandmother), whose tastes run to camouflage pants, fabrics that can be easily treated for bloodstains, and lots and lots of weapons. She's a hopeless romantic, having spent the last thirty or so years spelunking through the various dimensions surrounding her own as she tries to find her missing husband. Who is probably getting punched in the face if and when she finally finds him, since she's been scared to death for decades now. Anyway, my darling fireriven pointed me to something on Etsy, and in browsing the seller's other items, I found a red glass heart pendant with an old-fashioned six-shooter charm dangling from it. I stared. My inner Alice announced her covetousness.

I bought the necklace. It arrived in yesterday's mail, and it is awesome. Best of all, when someone asked me where I found it and what made me buy it (since I don't buy much jewelry that isn't from chimera_fancies), I was able to honestly reply "Oh, the one of the people who lives inside my head told me to." Sowing confusion is fun!

Seriously, though, I think my brain is bruised. I'm going to go home tonight and knock out another 3,000 words or so before watching Leverage, and tomorrow night, I'll go home and knock out 5,000 to 8,000, since I have no bedtime on Fridays. And after I do this a few more times, the book will be over, and I'll need to start occupying my time with something else. Like The Brightest Fell, and starting Blackout, and petting the cats. Oh, and learning how to say "behold, for now I wear the human pants" in ASL.

You know. The important things.

We are now twenty-five days from the official street date of A Local Habitation [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy], the second book in the October Daye series. If I had a penny for every day remaining, I would have a quarter. If I had a quarter for every day remaining, I would have six dollars and twenty-five cents, which isn't really enough to do anything useful. If I had a dollar for every day remaining, I'd probably just blow it on Diet Dr Pepper and Dance Dance Revolution down at the arcade, so I guess it's for the best that I haven't got a dollar.

I guess.

I'm pretty much just as nervous now as I was this time last release, thus confirming my belief that the pre-release crazies are an ongoing condition, not a once-in-a-lifetime event. They're like the flu, rather than like smallpox (which you're only likely to catch once, assuming you can survive that first encounter). I think I would have preferred smallpox. The flu can also be fatal, and smallpox, at least, doesn't happen on an annual basis unless you're really, really unlucky. I've started having the classic* anxiety dreams, I'm twitchy, and I find myself tearing up over episodes of Wizards of Waverly Place.

I'm both excited and terrified. Terror is winning at the moment, but I'm sure that, too, will pass, given sufficient caffeine and maybe a cupcake or two (dozen). Twenty-five days and this stage of the terror will be over, replaced by new and exciting types of terror into which I can dive.

I need a nap.

(*Classic for me, that is, which means they mostly involve being late for flights, missing connections, missing planes, and Ebola outbreaks wiping out the state of California. I haven't had the "you lost your luggage on the way to the con because your plane went down and now you're dead but you can't let anybody know" dream yet, but I'm sure that's coming. It's always coming. My brain is awesome.)

(Real quick: g33kboi, this is my last call. You have won an ARC of A Local Habitation. If I do not receive email through my website "contact" link with your mailing address by bedtime tonight, I will give your prize to someone else. For serious.)

As of today, we are fifty days away from the official release of A Local Habitation [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy]. (Of course, if Rosemary and Rue is anything to go by, we're actually about thirty-five days away from my hysterical meltdown in the Borders near my office.) If I had a penny for every day remaining before the official release, I wouldn't have enough to buy myself a cup of coffee. I would have enough to make a penny roll, though, which is always soothing. I like penny rolls.

Rosemary and Rue [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy] was my first book. It taught me a lot about marketing, pre-release crazy, post-release crazy, going crazy from good reviews, going crazy from bad reviews, living by my own rules regarding engaging reviewers and trying to explain myself, hyperventilating when I see my book on shelves, and trying to look nonchalant when I really just want to be screaming "I WROTE A BOOK OH MY GOD YOU GUYS LOOK LOOK LOOK YOU CAN TRADE MONEY FOR GOODS AND SERVICES AND THE GOODS AND SERVICES ARE MY BOOK!!!" while jumping up and down and providing expository hand gestures. It was, in short, a learning experience, and while I'd like to claim that it has left me a calm and mature author, prepared for anything, the fact of the matter is this:

I am so totally going to cry the first time I see A Local Habitation on the bookshelf. And then I'm going to call Vixy and make shrieky bat-noises until she talks me down from my happy hysteria. Because that's just how we roll around here.

I only have one convention between now and book release—Conflikt, in Seattle—and unlike last year, I'm not the Guest of Honor, which means that I have time to breathe. Of course, I have a convention immediately after the book is released (Consonance, in Santa Clara), but again, not Guest of Honor, just Head of Programming, so I'll be able to stop and stick my head between my knees every once in a while. This is A Very Good Thing, especially since, once A Local Habitation is safely out, I'm going to be putting on my Mira-pants and going immediately into freaking out over Feed.

Fifty days. A year ago, I was worried that no one would like Toby, that she'd just disappear into the urban fantasy jungle and never be seen again. Now I'm worried about not letting people down, and whether they'll still like Toby now that she's a little more comfortable with her new apartment.

Fifty days.

Wow.

January.
It's 2010! That's incredibly freaky! And to make things freakier, the month is already super-busy, because nothing says "love" like keeping me busy. On January 20th, I'll be appearing at the Clayton Books Book Club in Clayton, California. It's a book discussion, rather than a reading or anything silly like that, which really means "this is your opportunity to grill me mercilessly on the Toby books, along with basically everything else. I'm planning to bring cupcakes, because I am possibly certifiably insane. I'm also planning to bring prizes of some sort, because people like prizes, and I try to do things that people like.

I'm also flying to Seattle at the end of the month—yes, again—to attend Conflikt III, the Pacific Northwest's very own filk convention. Tom Smith is this year's Guest of Honor, which is going to be awesome. I love Tom, and I'm really looking forward to performing with him in May. Plus, this gives me the vital opportunity to hug me some Vixy.

February.
In February, I'm planning to write, write, write, and, oh, right, write. I'm nowhere near that dark and troubled country known as the Land of Missed Deadlines, but I fear that country's borders so much that I've set aside essentially all my spare time in February for staying as far from there as possible. Watch for flailing, and send care packages of Diet Dr Pepper and candy corn.

Toward the end of February, the fabulous stealthcello will be showing up (along with awesome bonus Katie) to stay with me pre-Consonance and check out the Bay Area a bit. Because doubling your awesome doubles your fun, Sooj and K will also be showing up, and a good time will be had by all. (There may be some extra awesome during this time period. Watch this space for details.)

March.
Oh, nothing major. Just, I don't know, THE RELEASE OF THE SECOND TOBY BOOK. A Local Habitation will be coming out in the first week of March. Expect flailing, hysterical, and awesome stuff. How awesome? "I've done this before and know what I'm doing now" awesome. Be there. (Just to make things more exciting, the release of A Local Habitation coincides with Consonance, the Bay Area's own filk convention, where Tricky Pixie will be appearing as Guests of Honor. Because I needed my head to explode if at all possible.)

On March 9th, we'll be having a reunion of the Traveling Circus and Snake-Handling Show, as we invade Borderlands Books to celebrate the release of A Local Habitation. The Borderlands Cafe is now open, and it's going to be twenty flavors of fantastic, including live music, readings, a raffle, and more. There's always, always more.

April.
April kicks off with the glory that is Wondercon, the San Francisco Bay Area comic and cool media convention. Last year at Wondercon, I didn't have any books in print. This year, I'll have two. What a difference a year makes. I intend to wander the dealer's hall with prizes in my pocket, making myself a target for treasure hunters, just like last year. Only this year, I'm bringing a real celebrity with me: my MOM. So here's your chance to meet her while she's too confused to try to drive you somewhere!

May.
In May, the first of the Mira Grant books, Feed, will be hitting shelves. I cannot express how excited I am by this book. I love the world, I love the characters, and sort of like the softer side of Sears, this is a whole different side of my work. Only for "softer," substitute "gory, merciless, scientific, political, and horrific." I really can't wait. I'm trying to pretend that I won't explode.

Also in May, I'll be attending Marcon in Columbus, Ohio as their Music Guest of Honor. The theme is "Necropolis," and the timing couldn't be better (nor the theme closer to my heart). Watch for thrills, chills, and possibly 1940s couture made from horrible zombie-print Halloween fabrics. Also, this is your chance to get up to three of my books signed. WHOA!

June.
June is currently totally free, and that's a damn good thing, because wow, am I going to need the break. Pressing on...

July.
Here's where things get crazy. In July, I have not one, not two, but three conventions to attend, starting with the very first weekend of the month: Westercon, which is combined with ConChord this year. I'm the Guest of Honor at ConChord, which means, y'know, I'm planning to attend, and more, planning to blow the roof off. Paul Kwinn, my frequent partner in crime, is their Toastmaster, and between the two of us, there's going to be a whole lot of hoot and a whole lot of nanny. Plus it's in Pasadena, land of Disney, where a good time can easily be had by all.

I'll barely have time to return to the Bay Area before it's back to Southern California for the San Diego International Comic Convention, where again, last year I didn't have any books in print, and this year I'll have three, as well as probably having ARCs for the fourth. I may hyperventilate and die. Only not, because at the end of the month, I have Spocon! In Spokane, Washington, where I'll be the Filk Guest, along with Author Guest Tanya Huff! Ladies of DAW, unite!

August.
Australia awaits.

The year is filling up fast, and more things are bound to appear as the months draw closer—look at how detailed the next few months are compared to the later ones. If you want me, book early, book often, and bribe.

Whee!

I was going to post about how today was a hundred days from the release of A Local Habitation and isn't that exciting and isn't it terrifying all at the same time. I was going to post about how today marked the point at which "far from release" became "near release," and all my inner Muppets danced. And then I was looking at my planner pages, and I thought "something about my math looks off."

And then I re-counted.

And then I freaked out.

Today is ninety-one days from the release of October Daye, book two, A Local Habitation. If I had a penny for every day remaining, I wouldn't even be able to buy a can of soda (taxes being what they are). Thanks to my little math error, I have just been dropped off a scheduling cliff, falling past "safely remote" and into "ha ha, gotcha." Yes, it's only nine days, but there's a psychological element to "one hundred" that isn't there with "ninety-one." (Although ninety-one is seven times thirteen, which is pretty awesome. That makes it a semiprime: a natural number that is the product of two prime numbers. Even when math betrays me, I love it so.)

Part of my calm, measured, perky productivity is the fact that I am really a lot more tightly scheduled than most people who haven't actually seen my planner ever realize. Losing nine days is a shock to the system that I didn't particularly need today, and while I'll recover in reasonably short order, I can't say I'm very happy right now.

Arrgh.

EDIT: Here's irony for you: I made another math error. Yesterday was ninety-one days to book release. Today is ninety days to book release. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go Xerox my head.

Today is the last day of November, which means we're one month away from running out of 2009 entirely. I'm really not sure how I feel about this. I mean, on the one hand, it's nice to be past some of the more chaotic and horrible parts of the year. On the other hand, it feels a lot like I blinked and the year was over, which is never a particularly pleasant experience.

December is already slated to be a busy, busy month, with two events (one in San Francisco, one in Seattle), one trip out of state (again, Seattle), Alice's birthday, and a fairly hefty word count goal on Blackout. Just to add more hoot to my nanny, I'm also going to have a go at restarting my aerobic workouts, since I really miss Richard Simmons (he's the freaky little glittery monkey man of my heart, yo). On the plus side, endorphins make you happy, and happy authors just don't kill their editors.

I'll put up the voting for the best pics-with-pets entries into the A Local Habitation ARC contest later today. There were some really amazing entries, and I'm crazy-glad not to be choosing the winner by myself. I think my head might actually explode if I tried. (Not a pretty sight.) Voting will remain open through Sunday, December 6th, at which point I'll announce the winners and solicit mailing addresses. The usual "if I don't get an address in twenty-four hours, I will move on to the next possible winner" applies, so if you're an entrant, please be sure to either check back here or have someone check for you on Monday, December 7th.

2010 is starting to fill up fast—because there's a real surprise—and I think I may be approaching the official "no more conventions this year, so sorry" point. I now have three during the month of July (the most wonderful time of the year), and that strikes me as a sign that it may be time to take a nap instead. I'll post my full schedule here and on the website shortly.

Hope you all had a fantastic weekend, and that your cats were less clingy and shedtastic than mine.

According to my infallible little planner countdown, A Local Habitation will be released in one hundred and thirteen days. One hundred and thirteen is the thirtieth prime number (I love prime numbers), following one hundred and nine and coming right before one hundred and twenty-seven (my personal favorite prime). It's a Sophie Germain prime, which means that p2 + 1 is also a prime number. Two hundred and twenty-seven, totally prime. Is that not awesome?

Okay. Maybe it's just awesome if you're me. One hundred and thirteen is also a Chen prime, a Proth prime, and an Eisenstein prime with no imaginary part. There's a lot of other fun stuff you can do with this particular number, including treating it as a permutable prime (with one hundred thirty-one and three hundred and eleven). And? One hundred and thirteen is three and a half months to the release of A Local Habitation.

That's a pretty big shocker, huh?

I'm just getting really started with my pre-release madness. Wallpapers and icons are being prepared. The countdown tool is going to be assembled as soon as the graphics are ready. My website is being relaunched, streamlined and spiffed up for the sake of ease-of-use. ARCs are going out, both to reviewers and through fun giveaways. People are starting to get excited. I'm working on the next promo comic.

One hundred and thirteen days. That's, like, absolutely no time at all. That's, like, tomorrow. And immediately after that, I'll put on my Mira-pants and begin working toward the release of Feed. Last year at the San Diego International Comic Convention, you couldn't buy any of my books in the dealer's hall. This year, you'll be able to buy three.

How's that for a slice and a half of creepy pie? Mmm. Tasty, tasty creepy.

1. I have done the mailing! Specifically, I've mailed a paperback to Australia, an ARC of A Local Habitation to our first ALH ARC contest winner, and a comic book to my web designer. (Said comic book has been failing to get mailed since July, which gives you an idea of how behind I am in certain aspects of my daily maintenance.) I probably have more mailing to do—including at least two CD sets—but this is mailing to discover, not mailing to feel guilty about not doing. Victory is mine!

2. Since the first ARC has been mailed out, I'm getting ready to open the second ARC contest. I'll be taking entries for a week or so, and then opening voting for a similar length of time. This is going to be a photography challenge (much like the LOLtest for Rosemary and Rue, but without the captions). Details will be posted later this week.

3. The redesign and relaunch of my website is just about done, which is a huge relief (for my webmaster and web designer, as well as for me, since they get constantly prodded at when I get twitchy). The new look of the site is awesome. We're going from drop-down menus to side menus, the graphics are even slicker and more incredibly cool, and soon, I'll be posting the first batch of icons and wallpapers for A Local Habitation. Also, once my main site is relaunched, we'll be able to focus on getting Mira's site off the ground. Evil twins need websites, too!

4. The Rosemary and Rue pendant sale from chimera_fancies is going to be launching later this week, and these pendants really are Mia's best work yet. I mean, they're just incredible pieces of wearable artwork, and the fact that I was partially responsible for this batch being created is just amazing to me. This is transformative art. From oral tradition folklore to urban fantasy novel to jewelry. Who could ask for a more remarkable series of connections? I'll post some previews of the sale before Mia opens it to the general public, but I'm not administrating it; all questions should go to chimera_fancies.

5. I know my Current Projects posts can seem huge and daunting and a little unreal, but I really have made amazing strides in Blackout, The Brightest Fell, and Discount Armageddon over the past month, and I'm over-the-moon excited with where they're each going. Working on all three at once is like a delicious block of television consisting of Glee, Supernatural, Wonderfalls, and Veronica Mars. So good, so snarky, and so refreshing for the soul. I know I love what I do, because it makes me less tired, rather than exhausting me.

6. My schedule for 2010 is taking shape and becoming visibly more awesome by the day. At least in part because, well, the more coherent it is, the easier it becomes for me to plan around things like conventions, book releases, and fits of hysterical giggling. My planner pages are also filling up, with a combination of major events and minor, "survive the day, week, month, year, and inevitable zombie apocalypse" items. The more regimented my time appears, the more work I'll get done. According to the planner so far, 2010 is the year I conquer the planet.

7. The first promo comic for A Local Habitation is underway, and looks awesome. I'll post it as soon as it's finished.

What's new in the world of you?

First off, I apologize profusely for the lateness of this month's current projects post. While my self-imposed schedule may not matter to most, I know it matters to some, and I know that my current projects update is due on the ides of every given month. I plead jetlag and exhaustion, and will attempt to make up for it by...well, largely by demonstrating, once again, that I am not a huge fan of either free time or sleep. This post and its kin are the reason I start to twitch like a tarantula riding a record player every time someone asks me "What are you working on?" The answer takes too long to actually deliver. Anyway, this is the November list of current projects, because I am the gift that keeps on giving.

To quote myself, being too harried to say something new: "These posts are labeled with the month and year, in case somebody eventually gets the crazy urge to timeline my work cycles (it'll probably be me). Behold the proof that I don't actually sleep; I just whimper and keep writing."

Please note that the first four Toby books are off this list, because they have been finished and turned in. You can purchase Rosemary and Rue [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy] now. You can pre-order A Local Habitation [Amazon]|[Mysterious Galaxy] now. An Artificial Night and Late Eclipses are off the list until The Editor tells me otherwise.

The first Newsflesh book, Feed (formerly Newsflesh), is off the list because it has been turned in to The Other Editor. Not only that, but my page proofs have been finished and returned. You'll see this bad boy again when it comes rolling off the presses!

The cut-tag is here to stay, because no matter what I do, it seems like this list just keeps on getting longer. But that's okay, because at least it means I'm never actively bored. I have horror movies and terrible things from the swamp to keep me company.

( What's Seanan working on now? Click to find out!Collapse )

October.
So it turns out that October is, well, pretty damn busy. First up, I'm signing books at the Northern California Independent Booksellers Association Trade Show on Saturday, October 10th. I've never been to one of these shows before, so it should be really interesting. One week after that, on October 17th, I'll be one of the featured readers at Borderlands Books during the annual LitCrawl! I get a reading slot, followed by signing and socializing. You should totally come. You should also totally buy an extra copy of Rosemary and Rue and tell the bookstore owners that I'm awesome. Just saying.

One week after that, I'll be flying to Ohio for the Ohio Valley Filk Festival, where we will be having an at-con book release party! Unfortunately for my haunted corn maze in Alabama aspirations, World Fantasy 2009 has been shifted to Halloween weekend, so I'm going to be flying back to California immediately after the convention to spend a weekend in San Jose, making friends and influencing people. Or at least staying upright. My editor from DAW is flying out, and I'm hoping to get the chance to introduce her to Lilly, Alice, and Kate. Not necessarily in that order.

November.
I'm spending the second week of November in New York, visiting my publishers. I'll probably try to arrange a group "if you show up here at this time, I'll totally be happy to see you" outing of some sort, if not a full-on book signing or whatnot. After that, I intend to spend the month of November sleeping, petting my cats, and powering through roughly 20,000 words of Blackout, which I'm aiming to finish by end of January.

December.
I'll be appearing at the Writers With Drinks event on December 12th; more information will be provided as it becomes available to me. I'll also be heading to Seattle for my now-annual "harass Vixy and Tony over the holidays" extravaganza. No one knows, as yet, whether this will include any extracurricular activities. I'll keep you posted.

January.
In January, I'm definitely intending to head up to Seattle for Conflikt III, the Pacific Northwest's very own filk convention. Tom Smith will be the Guest of Honor, which is going to be awesome, and I may be able to make my stay long enough to allow for a side-trip to Powells, the CITY OF BOOKS. Everybody wins!

February.
It's looking more and more likely that February will include a trip to the UK, to attend the UK filk convention (where my beloved Vixy and Tony will be the Guests of Honor), meet my UK publisher for the Mason books, and possibly take a side-jaunt over to Germany. Because sleep is for the weak and sickly, my darlings, sleep is for the weak and sickly.

February will also be Wondercon, but exact dates have not yet been announced.

March.
Again, nothing major. Just, I don't know, THE RELEASE OF THE SECOND TOBY BOOK. A Local Habitation will be coming out in the first week of March. Expect flailing, hysterical, and awesome stuff. How awesome? "I've done this before and know what I'm doing now" awesome. Be there. (Just to make things more exciting, the release of A Local Habitation coincides with Consonance, the Bay Area's own filk convention, where Tricky Pixie will be appearing as Guests of Honor. Because I needed my head to explode if at all possible.)

April.
This month is currently completely free. I expect this to change any day now. I have learned my lesson about expecting free time.

May.
In May, the first of the Mira Grant books, Feed, will be hitting shelves. I cannot express how excited I am by this book. I love the world, I love the characters, and sort of like the softer side of Sears, this is a whole different side of my work. Only for "softer," substitute "gory, merciless, scientific, political, and horrific." I really can't wait. I'm trying to pretend that I won't explode.

Also in May, I'll be attending Marcon in Columbus, Ohio as their Music Guest of Honor. The theme is "Necropolis," and the timing couldn't be better (nor the theme closer to my heart). Watch for thrills, chills, and possibly 1940s couture made from horrible zombie-print Halloween fabrics. Also, this is your chance to get up to three of my books signed. WHOA!

The year is filling up fast, and more things are bound to appear as the months draw closer—look at how detailed the next few months are compared to the later ones. If you want me, book early, book often, and bribe.

Whee!

1. Sketched and started inking my third possible Borderlands bookmark. See, Borderlands Books in San Francisco does limited-edition bookmarks with interesting art on them, and—after my signing/book release party/circus sideshow earlier this month—they invited me to design one of the upcoming bookmarks. As is so often the case when I am paralyzed by choice, I said "screw it," and am doing multiple bookmark designs for them to choose from. The first one, involving clownfish mermaids, is completely done; the second, involving seahorse mermaids, is in rough pencils with some inks; now, so is the third, involving Allomai and a fuck-ton of ribbons. I find this soothing and infuriating and an excuse to buy more art supplies. Everybody wins.

2. Bought the new Kelley Armstrong book, Frostbitten. This was sort of a comedy of errors, since the guy at Borders hadn't put it on the shelves yet, but had put it on the "we're putting this on shelves" cart, which meant there were no copies in the back of the store. I eventually located the cart, thus locating my book, and money was exchanged, rather than bloodshed.

3. Read the new Kelley Armstrong book, Frostbitten. What? I read fast. Also, it was so awesome I couldn't put it down. I love Kelley Armstrong's work so much.

4. Watched the final episode of season three of Primeval, the second-to-last episode of season one of Warehouse 13, and two more of the audition episodes for the current season of So You Think You Can Dance. A few people have informed me that they don't believe I watch as much television as I say I do. To them I say: you're probably right. I think I watch substantially more.

5. Sort of accidentally knocked out a thousand words on Deadline, which will get included in the next word count post, because I'm feeling too lazy to bother with doing that much math right now.

How about you?

There was a link going around this morning to a blog post about things authors really want their readers to know. One of the items on the list was, essentially, "I'm so glad to be accessible, and I love talking to you, and I love that you're excited by my work, and I swear I'm not ignoring you, no, really."

My desire to have this made into a T-shirt and wear it every day is enormous. Because here's the thing: if I have not answered your email, responded to your Facebook comment, or answered your Twitter, it's not because I'm snubbing you, or because I don't think you're totally awesome and mad cool. It's because I am so out-numbered that I'm feeling like the last surviving player in the Teenage Zombie High School scenario, only I don't have any plastic explosives, and I'm not allowed to blow up the building. (Kate says so, and we trust Kate in these things.)

Right now, everything I do spawns something else that must be done. If I put "write thank you cards" on my to-do list, it's followed with "buy thank you cards," "buy stamps," and "mail thank you cards"—all small, silly things, but all things that absolutely have to happen in order for the thank you cards to go out. I am doing my best to tame things by breaking them down into smaller and smaller items, which results in more things that need to happen (bad), but also results in things being easier to achieve (good). My daily to-do lists are solidly booked out through mid-October, and my weekly overviews are complete through the end of the year. Everything that comes up from here until January 1st is getting shoved in around the lists that came before it.

Please understand that I am not complaining. I'm like a shark; I keep moving, or I sink to the bottom of my tank and die. For me, "writing an essay series" and "drawing two dozen art cards" qualify as "taking a break to recharge my batteries." I genuinely enjoy being this busy, and I love the things I'm doing that make me as busy as I am. I just don't get a limitless number of hours in the day, and sometimes, those hours have already been promised to something else when the daily bucket o' email comes rolling in.

Have patience with me? I'm climbing uphill just as fast as I can.

Several people have asked me if, now that I'm past my official launch weekend, I'm planning to take a nap. I have done my best not to point and laugh, because it's an honest question (and also because I would probably just dissolve into hysterical giggles if I did so). So...

Before the end of September, I'll be receiving my page proofs for A Local Habitation (the sequel to Rosemary and Rue, and the second Toby Daye book). I'll also be preparing for the rest of the fall, since things will be hectic for a while before they settle down. See, in October, I'm traveling to Ohio for the Ohio Valley Filk Festival, and will be going straight from there into November and the World Fantasy Convention in San Jose. After that, I'm flying to New York to hang out with my publishers and be underfoot for a little while. (I also have a short story, "Inspirations," appearing at The Edge of Propinquity in November. So that'll be fun.)

In December, I'm going to Seattle to spend the holidays with my Pacific Northwest family, and to pull my now-traditional "work on a Mason book at Tony's kitchen table for eleven hours straight" holiday stunt. I'll probably also be doing my best to arrange some book events, possibly including Powell's. January will see me sleeping (a lot), as well as returning to Seattle for Conflikt, before heading to England, Germany, and the UK filk convention in February.

And then it will be March, and A Local Habitation will be hitting shelves, along with Chicks Dig Time Lords. I don't currently have anything scheduled for April—I don't trust this to last—but in May, Feed comes out. So sleep? No, not so much.

It's just one big kitchen party over here.

Well, I survived the weekend, with the assistance of the Traveling Circus and Snake-Handling Show that descended upon my house and made my book release parties extra awesome. I'll be posting detailed recaps of the parties later, after I've finished catching up on all the sleep I didn't get over the course of the weekend. (Seriously, right now, my idea of a recap is something like "and then I ate candy corn, and then I signed some books, and look, a bunny," which leaves out rather a lot of important details.)

My cats also survived the weekend, which was rather more in question, since Lilly doesn't like having large crowds between her and me, and Alice is still young enough to get impressively over-stimulated. Lilly spent the first night of the invasion (when we had Betsy in my room, Mia and Ryan in the spare room, and Amy, Brooke, and I in the back room) sleeping on my chest and growling in the back of her throat, Just In Case someone decided to try slitting my throat in the night. When no one attacked me, she moved on to pissy Siamese stage two, Shunning The Human, and provided a great deal of amusement, since she shuns about as well as I drive (and I don't drive). Alice did me the immense favor of being well-behaved and fluffy in front of Betsy, who bred her, and who needed to see her being happy, healthy, and fluffy.

Today has been pretty cool so far. Everybody seems to be getting home safely (always a concern, if you happen to be me), and my house is gradually returning to normal. Since it's Tuesday, I'll be going to Kate's tonight, to eat tasty Indian food, sleep in the basement, and resume my normal existence. I'm very excited by this fact. I like things that are normal (normal to me, anyway). I'm also going to be swinging through the Other Change of Hobbit to see whether they need any additional stock signed, and to confirm the dates for the rescheduled book release party. More information as it becomes available.

Chicks Dig Time Lords is now available for pre-order! Here's a link to the Amazon page. The brain-child of the lovely taraoshea, Chicks Dig Time Lords is a book of essays about being female in Doctor Who fandom, and what the show has meant to more than a few generations of Gallifrey Girls. It was co-edited by rarelylynne. I really loved being a part of this project, and I'm super-excited about it. Doctor Who has been one of my favorite shows since I was three years old. You can get your own copy of Chicks Dig Time Lords on March 15th, 2010—two weeks after you can get your own copy of A Local Habitation!

I'm exhausted, but I seem to be over the horrible plague that hit me just before book release, which is a wonderful thing (as yes, I did fear a relapse). This weekend, I get to hang out with a huge, merry crew over at the Bohnhoff place, and then head into Berkeley to do the Solano Stroll. And oh, right, it's time to get to work on finishing Blackout.

Welcome to fall. Now the work begins.

1) A lot of new folks have been wandering in over the past few days, probably because of this wacky thing I did called "releasing a book." Hi, new people! If you're wondering just what the hell you've gone and gotten yourself into, I recommend either hitting the "welcome post" tag, which leads to my semi-regular welcome posts, or wait until next Wednesday, when I'll be putting up the September welcome post. Yes, I really am that organized. The alternative is hysterical flailing, and that thread is useless without pictures.

2) Tangentially related, I have my 2010 Franklin-Covey planner pages! There was very nearly hysteria in the Franklin-Covey store, as the clerk who was helping me responded to my request for the Simplicity 2010 daily pages with "Oh, that's been discontinued." When I started to hyperventilate, he mysteriously located my pages in the stockroom. Perhaps he should consider that when you take a job in the OCD porn store, it's not nice to taunt the people who shop there. We're likely to flip out and beat someone to death with a hole punch.

3) The invasion has begun! Amy has been at my house since last week. Over the next few days, Brooke, Vixy and Tony, Betsy, Sooj and K, Rebecca, and Mia and Ryan will all be arriving. (No, they're not all staying with me. I have insufficient house for that sort of invasion.) Alice and Lilly have handled things well so far, what with the pre-invasion cleaning and the imported fiddler. Alice is especially fond of the imported fiddler, and has abandoned me heartlessly to hang out with Amy.

4) When looking for details on upcoming appearances, please remember that all confirmed appearances are listed in great detail on my website Appearances Page. I don't mind answering questions, but especially right now, there can be a pretty lengthy delay between you saying "hey, are you going to be...?" and my actually getting a chance to answer you. Since appearance questions are innately time-sensitive, please, please check the website first. It may save you missing a really awesome party.

5) Again tangentially related, since it's been asked several times: the raffle is Saturday night, at Borderlands. There isn't a raffle scheduled for Friday night, because it wasn't arranged ahead of time (we weren't aware of how many raffle prizes we'd actually have available to us until very recently). So if you want to participate in the raffle, you need to come to the Saturday book party.

6) If you're planning to come to the Saturday book party, remember that you can get an extra raffle ticket by bringing delicious baked goods to share with the rest of the class! Mmmmm, delicious baked goods.

7) Yes, I'll be at OVFF and World Fantasy. No, I won't be at ConChord or Orycon. I have no conventions in 2009 after World Fantasy, and that's a wonderful thing, because I'm intending to take a nap. I miss sleep. My cats miss me sleeping, since they don't have an electric blanket, and without a warm human, they're forced to rely on sunbeams and each other for warmth. Think of the kitties. (Even if Alice is the feline equivalent of a down comforter, she still likes snuggles.)

8) Here's some fun news for you short story and Velveteen fans. First off, I'll have new pieces appearing at the Book View Cafe soon (I had to take a week off, due to book release crazy), including more horror, and maybe even a look at the little town of Rush's Bend, Minnesota. Secondly, "Velveteen vs. the Blind Date" is finally almost finished, and your regularly scheduled dose of superhero strangeness will be rolling into town any day now. I just need to work the last of the bugs (and bears) out before I release it.

9) The turtle couldn't help us.

10) September is only three days old, and already it's been awesome and exhausting and exhilarating and generally terrifying in ways that I've been dreaming of for my entire life. Thank you all for being here, and for not shooting me for all the flailing I've been doing lately. I promise we'll return to normal levels of flail soon.

Now we must rinse.

Yesterday's excitement (and the ongoing reports of Rosemary and Rue sightings everywhere from California to Scotland) aside, we're still ten days out from the official "this is when the book hits shelves" release date. Because the book doesn't have a fixed street date—I am not, my mother's enthusiastic ravings aside, Stephen King—it's perfectly okay for bookstores to be selling it now, if a little hard on my nerves.

Tonight, I fly to Seattle for the Grants Pass launch event (with cake!) and Vixy's birthday (also with cake!). A week from today, Amy arrives, and will be staying through to the end of the various book release parties, because she is a good and wise and wonderful Amy that way. Two weeks from today, I'll be at Illusive Arts Comics and Games in Santa Clara, celebrating my book release with the first of three local-area book events.

I am elated and terrified, which is very odd to experience. It's sort of like being at the top of that first big hill on a roller coaster. On the one hand, you stood in line for this, possibly for hours; you had plenty of time to say "no, you go ahead, I'm just going to go get myself a corn dog and laugh at your plight as you go off to play with physics." On the other hand, it's way too late to get off the ride now, and now's when you have second thoughts, such as "can I really make physics my bitch?" You'll have a wonderful time once you start to plummet. The psychological hang-time is still not all that much fun.

I've been trying to get to the point in my life and career where I could write this post for over a decade now. I've been standing in line for this moment for the last year and a half, since the day The Agent called me and said "We got DAW." But wow, am I going to scream when the falling starts. Ten more days.

Ten more days, and I know damn well and good that as soon as we reach the bottom, I'm just going to go and get back into line. Roller coasters rule.

* Pick up Canadian currency from my bank, where hopefully, no one will say "Canadians have money?" Once was funny. Twice may well be grounds for punching somebody in the nose. I like my bank. I don't want to get thrown out for assaulting a teller.

* Revise and process the editorial notes on the next thirty pages of Feed. I'm currently on page 251 of 544 (this includes the dedication page, but does not yet include the acknowledgment page); I need to hit page 281 before I can go to bed tonight. I like sleep. Sleep is my cuddly friend. I like zombies. The fact that zombies are a prerequisite for sleep around here probably says something about my psyche.

* Attempt to unearth my dresser from beneath the epic pile of crap that accompanied me home from San Diego. This may or may not be something I can accomplish without the use of a flamethrower.

* Fish the cat toys out from under the bed.

* Attempt to integrate the epic pile of crap that accompanied me home from San Diego into my bedroom without causing some sort of avalanche or otherwise hitting critical mass and opening a black hole into another dimension. Of course, if the objects responsible for opening the black hole influence the dimension on the other side, it will be a dimension filled with flesh-eating My Little Ponies and telepathic velociraptors. So that might be a nice place to have a vacation home.

* Trade the July pages in my planner for the shiny, new, relatively unmarked September pages. Immediately start filling the September pages with to-do lists, deadlines, goals, and the other unavoidable roadmaps of being me. I actually find this process quite soothing, in a nit-picky, obsessive sort of a way. Here is my month. I have scheduled panic attacks, showers, and laundry. Go me.

* Finish chapter four of The Brightest Fell, aka "the fifth Toby book," aka "well, at least she won't be done with the entire second trilogy before the first book comes out." (The Toby books aren't really trilogies. It's just that I tend to outline them three at a time, because it's an easy number to deal with, and people are less frightened by "oh, I'm working on the second trilogy." Apparently, math and logic are not always our friends.)

* Fish the cat toys out from under the bed.

* Inform Alice that I am not going to fish the cat toys out from under the bed a third time.

* Fish the cat toys out from under the bed.

* Pull my towering stacks of trade paperbacks into one mega-stack and put the damn things away before I lose a cat beneath a pile of Hack/Slash. Since Lilly eats comic books, this would be a fitting end, but it would make me sad, and I don't have time for that right now.

* Update three entries in the Toby continuity wiki. I'm getting close to being done with the data-entry from the original continuity guide, and that means soon, I'll be able to start updating things to match current continuity, as well as adding extra information on characters whose profiles are still just skeletons. If there's ever a fan wiki, we can have a race.

* Ignore the Maine Coon telling me that her toys have disappeared under the bed.

* Go to Dairy Queen.

* Sleep.

I staggered into my house at about half-past eight last night, where I was promptly accosted by angry blue cats who wished me to understand that I Had Sinned, and Must Be Punished. (My punishment consisted primarily of petting the cats, petting the cats some more, and giving Alice a good brushing. Mom had been brushing her in my absence, but Alice wasn't entirely willing to let Mom near her nethers, and as a consequence, there was need for some serious Maine Coon repair before she could really be said to be at her best.) I even managed to partially empty both my suitcases before toppling into the bed like a felled dragon toppling on a poorly-placed knight errant.

The trip home from the convention was reasonably painless. Amanda and Michael delivered Jeanne and I to the airport with plenty of time to spare, and we meandered our way through security and onto the airplane (after a considerable delay, since we were two hours early). I spent most of the flight either dozing fitfully or watching Hannah Montana on the in-flight entertainment system. I should probably have been working on my copy-edits for Feed, but let's face it: there is an event horizon past which all work becomes crap, and I had passed that horizon quite some time previously. Shaun and Georgia should never have a crossover with the cast of Babylon Archer and the Caverns of Ice. I'm just saying.

My mother met me at the airport, and despite horrific traffic on the roads between San Francisco and home, we did not die in a horrible fiery crash. We had dinner at the Wendy's, because we were frankly both too far gone to deal with anything else. (Proof that I was tired: for about half the drive, I was convinced I'd managed to lose my phone. After finding my phone, I lost my credit card. I still can't find my keys.)

Tonight's plan involves taking Toby promo bookmarks to Borderlands Books, along with a stack of the DAW summer samplers, and then going home and getting to work on the heaps and heaps and heaps of stuff that's managed to pile up over the last week. Oh, and another twenty pages of copy-edits for Feed.

My next scheduled nap is in November.

July.
Oh sweet, sweet San Diego ComiCon, how I've missed you. How I've longed for you. And how happy I am that I get to come back to you this year. I promise I'll never leave you again. There are rumors of some exciting Rosemary and Rue-related happenings at the convention—happenings which may rock you all the way down to the tips of your toes. I recommend stopping by the Penguin Books booth to learn the whole story...where again, you can see me in Halloweentown Disney Princess mode. Always scary, always amusing. Plus, I'm almost certainly going to have convention-exclusive art cards again, because That's Just What I Do. I'm on the Escapist Fantasy panel on Thursday morning at 11:00 AM, and I'll be signing afterward. Please come by!

July will also see the release of Grants Pass, a post-apocalyptic anthology from Morrigan Books. It includes my short story, "Animal Husbandry," written specifically for the project and never seen anywhere else. This was my first anthology sale. Words can't begin to express how thrilled I am.

August.
It's blonde vs. Canada as I make my way to the Montreal WorldCon. Who will win? Probably the fries with gravy. I'm going to be appearing on panels at the convention, and will be giving a concert, with the fabulous Dave Weingart as my stunt guitarist du jour. I should have copies of all three albums with me, but they'll be limited by my suitcase space.

Later in August, I'll be flying up to Seattle for a special Grants Pass appearance on the 22nd. It's your chance to have the anthology signed by more of the authors than is technically legal!

September.
Nothing major. Just, I don't know, the OFFICIAL RELEASE of MY VERY FIRST FULL-LENGTH NOVEL, Rosemary and Rue. I've been living with October "Toby" Daye as an invisible roommate for so long that I barely remember life without her, and now the whole world gets to be properly introduced. I'm excited beyond words. I've actually been crying, I'm so happy. I think you're gonna like her, and the reviews we've had so far support that.

We're starting to confirm the dates for my various Bay Area signings and events; trust me when I say that you absolutely, positively, CANNOT MISS my book release party at Borderlands Books in San Francisco. How awesome is it going to be? So awesome that the Earth may shake. Trust me. There are also events scheduled at the Other Change of Hobbit (Berkeley) and Illusive Arts (Santa Clara).

October.
I will be participating in the annual LitCrawl! at Borderlands Books on October 17th. I get a reading slot, followed by signing and socializing. You should totally come. You should also totally buy an extra copy of Rosemary and Rue and tell the bookstore owners that I'm awesome. Just saying.

October is also home of the Ohio Valley Filk Festival, where we will be having an at-con book release party! Unfortunately for my haunted corn maze aspirations, World Fantasy 2009 has been shifted to Halloween weekend, so I'm going to be flying back to California immediately after the convention to spend a weekend in San Jose, making friends and influencing people. Or at least staying upright.

November.
I like sleep. I understand people do it sometimes. Also, I understand that cats appreciate it when their owners sit still. So I'm going to try these things, and see if they keep me alive a little longer.

December.
I'll be appearing at the Writers With Drinks event on December 12th; more information will be provided as it becomes available to me.

January.
In January, I'm definitely intending to head up to Seattle for Conflikt III, the Pacific Northwest's very own filk convention. Tom Smith will be the Guest of Honor, which is going to be awesome, and I may be able to make my stay long enough to allow for a side-trip to Powells, the CITY OF BOOKS. Everybody wins!

February.
It's looking more and more likely that February will include a trip to the UK, to attend the UK filk convention (where my beloved Vixy and Tony will be the Guests of Honor), meet my UK publisher for the Mason books, and possibly take a side-jaunt over to Germany. Because sleep is for the weak and sickly, my darlings, sleep is for the weak and sickly.

February will also be Wondercon, but exact dates have not yet been announced.

March.
Again, nothing major. Just, I don't know, THE RELEASE OF THE SECOND TOBY BOOK. A Local Habitation will be coming out in the first week of March. Expect flailing, hysterical, and awesome stuff. How awesome? "I've done this before and know what I'm doing now" awesome. Be there.

The year is filling up fast, and more things are bound to appear as the months draw closer—look at how detailed the next few months are compared to the later ones. If you want me, book early, book often, and bribe.

Whee!

* Busier than God.

* Remember, this is a paid LJ, and emailing me is way more likely to get a response than sending something to my LJ inbox. Also, if you send something to my LJ inbox, you'll eventually get a response that includes a cranky request that you not do that anymore. Don't make me cranky. You wouldn't like me when I'm cranky.

* Maine Coons + fun with physics = hysterical win. Lilly observes Alice in her attempts to conquer gravity with an expression of amused disdain, like "I was never that young, that puffy, or that stupid." She's right on one out of three counts.

* DucKon is coming up faster than a runaway freight train bearing down on an innocent young heroine tied to the tracks by a dastardly villain with a curly mustache. I am not ready. I am never ready until my plane leaves the ground, so I'll land in Illinois totally prepared, but right now? Right now, I'm not ready.

* As soon as I get past not being ready for DucKon, I have to start not being ready for the San Diego International Comic Convention. Where I am going to be a professional this year. Me. A pro. At Comicon. Did I mention that I think I may have sold my soul at the crossroads?

* I am here, I am responsive, I am doing my best to stay on top of the mountain. Please forgive delays.

5:15 AM: Wake up to the shrieking blare of the alarm clock. Reaffirm desire to purchase one of those nifty little iPod-dock alarm clocks after DucKon, so that I can be woken up by something that doesn't make me want to lunge for the nearest blunt object and commit a homicide. I'm a light enough sleeper not to need an alarm clock that could be used to notify the UN of the impending zombie apocalypse, thank you very much. Get dressed, get packed, get out the door.

7:00 AM: Arrive at desk in San Francisco, and settle in for a day of being as productive as I possibly can when I'm leaving the office at one to deal with scary dental things. I am surprisingly productive, largely thanks to my love for the sacred to-do list. If not for the sacred to-do list, I would be a whimpering heap under the bed by now. All hail the sacred to-do list, and all hail Franklin-Covey, the manufacturers of my planner and its various accessories. Seriously. These people save my ass daily.

1:00 PM: Leave the office. Head for the train. Take the train to Borderlands Books, where my usual impeccable timing means a) I miss Jude (rats!), b) the naked cats aren't in the store (double rats!), and c) Cary—in addition to being the only employee present, which reduces the viability of chatting—is in the middle of inventory, and thus borders on negatively social. Purchase several books, because I am me. One of these is a paperback titled Denver Is Missing, by D.F. Jones, who also wrote Earth Has Been Found. Nobody ever gets to call me bad at titles ever ever ever ever again.

4:00 PM: Go to dentist, who prods me repeatedly while going "Does this hurt?" Nothing hurts before it gets prodded. Now...well, pain is annoying but endurable, I suppose.

5:00 PM: Arrive home. Update LJ before preparing for an evening of edits, fuzzy cats, and really lousy horror movies.

Halloween is every day.

So recently, Neil Gaiman made a post about entitlement, which has been circulating widely under the assumed title of "George R. R. Martin is not your bitch." Good title. Interesting entry. Lots of people are saying lots of things about it, most of which boil down to "here, here" and "you go, girl." Er, "you go, British guy." Whatever. Anyway, as is my natural inclination when presented with such things, I've been thinking. (And she's been crying, and I am the Rain King.)

See, the core premise of the original post is one that I agree with: an author doesn't owe their work to anyone except, perhaps, their agent and their publisher. Buying Rosemary and Rue doesn't somehow create a contract between us wherein I swear on penalty of death to do nothing but work on Toby books, all day, every day, until the series comes to a satisfying conclusion. For one thing, Kate would kill me. For another, if I worked only on Toby, with no pauses for other books, I'd go crazy, and the quality of the Toby books would decrease dramatically. And then The Agent would kill me (if Kate didn't get there first).

At the same time, the email which inspired the post contained a very different question. Is it wrong, the writer asked, to be annoyed when I read the blog of a favorite author and see nothing to tell me what the status of the next book is? And to that I have to say, quite honestly...

...no.

Look: there is no formal "deliver or die" contract between writer and reader, and there's a reason, as jimhines so helpfully pointed out, that very few publishers actually punish authors for missing their deadlines once in a while. Quality matters, and sometimes getting something done right takes longer than originally expected. I finished Late Eclipses in December of 2008, dammit! It was done! It was...nowhere near as good as it honestly needed to be, both to live up to the standards set by the first three books, and to live up to the standards I set for myself. I gave it to The Agent. She promptly gave it back, with a command to fix it. If I'd been working to a January deadline, I'm afraid my release date would have slipped more than a little as I took the book and ripped it apart to resolve its structural issues. Quality is always going to come first for me. Hopefully, it'll be a long time before that makes me miss a deadline, but even I and my OCD work habits can't guarantee that slippage will never occur.

At the same time, I do believe that there's a certain "social contract" which exists between writers and readers when those writers hang out their proverbial shingles out for the world to see. Once I've opened a professional blog and announced that hi, this is the professional blog of Seanan McGuire, come on in, I do owe you updates, even if those updates are things like "didn't work on Toby this week because I was busy following the Counting Crows around the Pacific Northwest" or "didn't finish the new chapter of Discount Armageddon because Alice got into the watercolors again." I have said, on some level, that I will keep you posted. The social contract demands that I uphold my end of the bargain, and if I don't, you have every right to get annoyed with me.

(This is similar to a scenario that plays out frequently with web comics, who have been dealing with their audiences online for longer than nigh anyone else. New guy hits the web comic scene, updating regularly. Sets an update schedule. Basks in the love. Starts missing updates. People start to complain. Snaps "I do this for free, and you should be grateful." Well...yes and no. I don't have the right to demand you work for me, but I do feel that, once you've entered into a social contract which says I'll get updates on days one, three, and five, I should get an update on those days, or, failing that, I should get information on why that update isn't there. That was the deal. If you tell me why the update is missing, you take away my license to bitch.)

In conclusion, no, George R. R. Martin is not your bitch, and no, you shouldn't view delays as personal attacks. Often, delays are there because the book is being made better. But yes, I do believe that once an author says "come hang out in my virtual office and play with my virtual fidget toys," you have a right to expect to be told what's going on, and a right to ask "why is the eighth book in this series not out yet?"

It's all a matter of where you stand.

Having been asked to provide personal notes to go with my personal list of places I knew needed to receive ARCs of Rosemary and Rue, and being the balanced, reasonable, under-achieving person that I am, I decided to slack off, and just fill in some pre-printed mad libs...and if you actually think that's true, you should really go take a look at my website. "Balanced, reasonable, and under-achieving" is about as accurate a description as "made of enchanted pumpkin pie, stapled together by magical weasels from the moon." (Actually, the latter description may be more accurate. I like pumpkin pie...) Viewing this as an excuse to acquire new art supplies (always an aspiration of mine), I promptly went to the art supply store, where I acquired...

* Two packs of watercolor greeting card blanks
* A new set of gorgeous watercolors in a cunning stack
* Two new watercolor brushes

...yes, I probably ought to seek help, but I really don't care. I am a content and comfortable addict, whose habits mostly just inconvenience my capacity to put anything away. I've spent a comfortable week composing, sketching, and painting watercolor "thank you for reading" notes to be sent off to my publisher. Since I really wanted to get them into the mail today, I spent about two hours last night doing a watercolor marathon as I finished off the detailing on the various cards.

Enter Alice.

Alice loves water. Watercolors are, surprisingly enough, largely based on what? On water. So Alice thinks that me doing watercolors is awesome. So awesome, in fact, that she really wants to help. Guess what doesn't actually help me do fine detail watercolors? Wow. Good guess.

Step one, set up watercolor station. Take brushes away from Alice.
Step two, start working. Discover that Alice is drinking the water I use to clean my brushes. Take water away from Alice.
Step three, clean brushes. Discover that Alice is now drinking the purple paint. Take paint away from Alice.
Step four, reassure self that yes, this is non-toxic paint.
Step five, discover that Alice is now licking the paint off one of the envelopes. Take envelope away from Alice.
Step six, put Alice off the couch.
Step seven, put Alice off the couch.
Step eight, give up and let her drink the damn paint water if she really wants to. At least she's not drinking the actual paint.
Step nine, discover that Alice is now a blue classic tabby and purple and orange and green.
Step ten, put everything away on a very high shelf, resolve never to work in oil paints.

My cards are done, and you can barely tell how much "help" I got. And since the paint is non-toxic and Lilly loves bathing Alice (whether she needs it or not), everything is basically back to normal. Except, perhaps, my nerves.

Late Eclipses—formerly Late Eclipses of the Sun, before I admitted that if even I wasn't calling the book by its full title, there was no point—was originally finished, in its first draft form, towards the end of last year. (This is the fourth Toby book, for those of you playing the home game. Which is essentially everyone but me, in this particular case.) It was a lumpy, sort of misshapen monster of a thing, but that's not uncommon for first drafts, and besides, it was mine, and I loved it. Not all of it, true, and there were some parts I even came close to outright disliking, but still. We try not to judge our children.

Thankfully, my various proofreaders—and perhaps more importantly, The Agent—have no such compunctions about judging me, and my manuscript was sent home beaten, bleeding, and covered in corrections. Many of them were structural, since there were large chunks of text that seemed intent on playing ring-around-the-rosie with one another.

(As a small digression, some of these same sequences would have seemed amazing if I'd produced them, say, a year ago. Two years ago? The skies would have opened and angels would have descended to sing "Listen to Jesus, Jimmy" in six-part harmony. This is the problem with writing constantly: you get better, and then people expect better, because they know you're capable of it. Sometimes I feel like I'm tap-dancing on an ice floe surrounded by hungry polar bears with attention deficit disorder. If I ever run out of shiny things, I'll become some lucky bear's new picnic basket, filled with lovely things to eat. Like my spleen.)

I've been working on revising Late Eclipses for the last several weeks, with varying degrees of success. Oh, I'm constantly succeeding—the text is changing, the book is getting shorter (it was previously almost 15,000 words longer than a "normal" Toby book, and it didn't need to be), and the action is getting more linear—but the rate of success is exceedingly variable, and can sometimes feel like I'm swimming through vanilla frosting. Mmm. Vanilla frosting. Anyway. Last night? Last night, I basically sliced the book open, ripped out half its guts, and stuffed them back into the chest cavity in a new, more aesthetically pleasing arrangement. Last night, I dropped from 115,000 words to 109,000, and the counter is still descending. I cut a chapter, transplanted another chapter to a point later in the book, and then combined the transplanted chapter with the chapter it was now adjacent to in a variety of interesting patchwork ways.

I am totally exhausted. My book is a battlefield. It's like Elm Street in here; dead darlings everywhere, blood on the ceiling, and the vague, sticky fear of a sequel (in this case, it's called The Brightest Fell). But the book is getting better. It's sort of awesome, in a "baby, when I finish this, plain ol' Philadelphia Burke is going to be Delphi forever and ever" sort of a way. Plus, it's eventually going to be fun to tell this story at conventions and watch people check their copies of the book for scars.

I just don't know if I'm ever going to get the blood out of my hair.

I have spent my week being very, very productive, especially when you consider the fact that a) I just got a new kitten, b) Lilly didn't allow me to sleep for over a month during her "kitty go crazy" period, and c) the lack of sleep, followed by sleep's sudden return, has left me slightly sick and very definitely jet-lagged in my own body. It's exciting! But this week, I have...

...turned in an essay for one of those exciting "smart people try to sound smart while talking about television" essay books. I'm excited! This is the first time I've been asked to participate in something like this, but I've always been a little envious of authors who get to go and sound smart while they talk about, say, Supernatural or Buffy. Hopefully I've managed to sound super-smart, because I'd love to do this again. I have a list of shows I'm just dying to sound totally smart about. Like Fringe and Cupid. Oh, and if there's ever a "smart people try to sound smart while talking about shows that were canceled before their time" book, I can corner the market on Freakylinks.

...revised nine chapters of Late Eclipses, only to discover that one of those chapters needed to be combined with another to form a sort of, I don't know, "super-chapter," while another chapter needed to be cut entirely. On the positive side, I made these discoveries entirely on my own, without any outside assistance. Also on the positive side, this will help with my goal of getting the book down between 105,000 and 110,000 words. On the negative side, dammit, I already revised this part of the book. Damn plot. It's getting complications and fingerprints all over my stuff.

...set up the landing page for the Velveteen vs. series, including a brief description of what the series is about, a listing for the stories in order-as-written, and a listing for the stories in chronological order (which will matter more as the JSP-era stuff starts getting posted). All the Vel stories are being cleaned up and revised before they're posted, which slows it down a bit, but also lets me take care of all those pesky typos and logic problems that people have been so very kindly pointing out to me. Behold! For now I wear the continuity pants!

...submitted all my receipts, agreed to an estimate on my taxes, and confirmed that I'm ready to receive my extension forms, hence to turn my taxes in. Self-employment tax blows. The next time someone asks why I haven't quit my day job yet, I may pull out my tax receipts and a conveniently labeled graph. SCREWING A WRITER IN FIVE EASY STEPS. Step one: self-employment tax.

...introduced Lilly and Alice to one another without bloodshed (either feline or human), and without any major emergencies, unless you want to count Lilly forcing her way into the bedroom during what was technically the isolation period. I rarely, if ever, close my bedroom door all the way -- the cats like to be able to come and go, and the litter box in my room is a relatively recent development -- so I had totally forgotten that Lilly knows how to work the latch, and will work the latch if given sufficient motivation. Like, say, being locked out of the room. But all's well that ends well, and this has ended well.

What's everybody else's productive looking like?

It's the fifteenth of March and I've just staggered home after a cross-country plane trip, which makes it the absolutely perfect time for the March edition of my monthly current projects listing. Again, these are labeled with the month and year, just in case somebody wants to find a specific post later on. Anyway, this is the post where I make it cheerfully apparent that I do not actually ever sleep.

Please note that the first three Toby books are currently off this list, as they have been fully turned-in to DAW; the next input I'm gonna have will come with the ARCs, and you'll be able to buy Rosemary and Rue on September 1st, 2009. Ah, progress. It smells like fear and uncontrollable twitching. Lycanthropy and Other Personal Issues is also off the list; it's under review with my agent, and is thus not being actively worked on. Newsflesh is off the list because it's being shopped, and that means I essentially can't have any contact with it until the process is done. I miss you, baby!

The cut-tag is here to stay, because no matter what I do, it seems like this list just keeps on getting longer. But that's okay, because at least it means I'm never actively bored. I have dinosaurs and zombies to keep me company.

( What's Seanan working on now? Click to find out!Collapse )

1. I'm not dead! Since it wasn't widely advertised before I went away, I'm in New York for Business Purposes (tm) this week, hanging out with the wonderful crew at DAW, meeting other fabulous people (hi, Colleen!), and generally being A Good Little Author. This has resulted in some truly fantastic things, many of which I'll be sharing when I'm not so tired that I just want to fall down and sleep for a month or more.

2. No, I haven't had a chance to try data recovery tricks yet -- I haven't had a chance to sleep. My flight landed at 7:05 AM on Wednesday, and I've basically been running since then (witness this being my first opportunity to get to the Internet). I'll be at Jon and Merav's on Saturday, and Will will be there; between Geek Thing One and Geek Thing Two, if it can be fixed, it will be fixed. I'll keep everyone posted.

3. On a similar note, while I try to answer every comment made on this journal, I'm not even going to pretend to bother with the data loss post. There's lots more of you than there is (are?) of me, and I'm tired enough that I'd start quoting nursery rhymes and giggling a great deal. Not actually attractive or entertaining. Well, potentially entertaining for you guys, but...

4. There's news on the Ravens in the Library front: while there have been printing delays, the editors are expecting books Real Soon Now. So if you were planning to order a copy before you missed the first wave, now's the time. Remember, I'll smile pretty and even sign it for you if ask me to.

5. Tomorrow, Sheila (my editor) and I are going to go to the New Jersey Pine Barrens, land of cranberries, blueberries, and cut-rate horror movies. I'm very excited about this, because I'm, well, still me.

That's all for right now; the good stuff gets to wait until I'm awake. I miss everybody. Be home soon.

Bags, packed, ready to go. I'm traveling with the big orange suitcase and the little pink camo bag; the big orange suitcase contains my Little Red Riding Hood bag, so that I can decant my vitals once I actually get to New York and need to start looking presentable. I'm both packed lightly -- I can pick up my suitcase! -- and packed thoroughly enough that I should be able to survive until Sunday. I'm starting to think that I should win an award for traveling. I'm also starting to think that I should set up a 'go bag' with an assortment of travel-size cosmetics and such, just to simplify the packing process. This proves that I've been traveling a lot lately.

Directions to all the places I'm going, researched, printed out, in the planner. I have an...unfortunate...tendency to just assume that I'll be able to find my way places, and to forget silly little things like 'walking maps' or 'exact street addresses.' This has resulted in my becoming lost in some really fascinating locales, and would be fine if I didn't actually feel the need to get where I was intending to be. My time on the road is limited, and my appointments really don't allow for my finding a way to walk from Manhattan to Maine. Even though I'd really, really like it. (I may be one of the only people in the planet who finds the idea of walking from Maine to Denver to be one of the more pleasant side effects of the super-flu.)

Wool trousers, hemmed, picked up from the dry cleaner. This 'having clothing that needs to be tailored if it's going to fit correctly' thing is very new and strange to me, and I'll be doing my best to avoid it as much as possible. That said, having pants that fit is awesome, and having wool pants that fit when I'm about to go to a state that's still having winter is doubly awesome.

Manicure, accomplished. I have Don't Be Koi With Me nails. This delights me.

I have my laptop and all the notes and edits I've been wanting to process, and I'm flying Virgin America, which means in-seat power is my sweet, sweet companion from take-off to touch-down. I'll be in New York from tonight through Sunday; I may or may not be online at all during that time, but the safe assumption is 'not.' I definitely won't have much time to be answering comments or playing around with my email. Please be patient if you need me for anything, and I'll get back to you just as quickly as I can.

Road trip! Don't burn down the Internet while I'm gone.

(Please note that the things in my subject header will not necessarily be presented in the order in which they were, um, presented. Don't mind me, I'm very blonde today.)

Travel plans, take one: As many people have been able to put together from my vague rumblings, I'm heading for New York a week from, um, yesterday. Yeep. This is almost purely a business trip, as I'm going out to see my publisher, have lunch with my agent, and generally behave like a grown-up member of human society. (Kate even managed to get me into wool pants. Everybody say 'thank you, Kate.') I'm taking a red-eye flight from San Francisco on Tuesday night, and I'm going to be gone until the Ides of March. Internet access will almost certainly be limited during this time, because dude, I'll be in New York. Also, this is going to be Yet Another Trip to the East Coast during which I don't get to go to Maine. Given the estimated temperature in Maine at this time of year, that's probably for the best.

Travel plans, take two: I'm taking a much shorter trip at the beginning of April, flying up to Seattle to see my dearest darlingest Vixy and Tony, catch the pure hammered awesome that is Sooj in concert, and, oh, right, pick up my brand new kitten from Pinecoon Maine Coon Cattery. Pinecoon is run by Betsy Tinney, who's also serving as one of my subject matter experts for Discount Armageddon. It's weird to think that I'm about to have a cat that isn't a Classic Siamese, but I wasn't able to find any local catteries with kittens -- and I'll be honest, I fell in love with Betsy's cats the minute I walked in. I'm not happy about leaving Lilly alone while I go to New York, but at least I know her only cat status isn't going to last for long. Plus, my kitten? Is awesome.

Number geekery: According to today's count, Rosemary and Rue comes out in 180 days. This is a good number, but I liked yesterday's number better, because 181 is a strobogrammatic prime. A strobogrammatic prime is a prime number that, given a base and given a set of glyphs, appears the same whether viewed normally or upside down. It's one of the only primes that can't be defined with a simple algebraic equation. Also, depending on the way a given language writes its numbers, certain primes change from strobogrammatic to not strobogrammatic. And this is so cool. There just aren't words for the awesome. (I am a total number geek.)

And now, behind the cut, the cool.

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It's the fifteenth of February, which means it's both the Feast of St. Markdown's, and time for the February edition of my monthly current projects listing. I've decided to actually start labeling these with the month and year, just in case somebody wants to find a specific post later on. Anyway, this is the post where I make it cheerfully apparent that I do not actually ever sleep.

Please note that the first three Toby books are currently off this list, as they have been fully turned-in to DAW; the next input I'm gonna have will come with the ARCs. Ah, progress. It smells like fear and uncontrollable twitching. Lycanthropy and Other Personal Issues is also off the list; it's under review with my agent, and is thus not being actively worked on. Newsflesh is off the list because it's being shopped, and that means I essentially can't have any contact with it until the process is done. I miss you, baby!

The cut-tag is here to stay, because no matter what I do, it seems like this list just keeps on getting longer. But that's okay, because at least it means I'm never actively bored. I have dinosaurs and zombies to keep me company.

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So, in an effort to get people to stalk me -- I mean, ah, 'track me down' -- at Wondercon, I have declared that the first ten people to track me down and ask me about Rosemary and Rue will receive, gratis and on-the-spot, a specially drawn art card made entirely for the purpose of being given away to at-con, er, trackers.

Because I never work very well under 'you must do X by Y and PS don't screw it up' pressure, I decided the best way not to make this a crazy-making thing would be to do it entirely at random -- as in, just sit down, draw ten art cards, and whatever they turn out to be, that's what Wondercon gets. So I did. And the result was...

1. The Kitsune Girl from the Babylon Wood.
2. A very unhelpful turtle.
3. Toby, stark naked, in a pond, looking pissed.
4. Angie the centaur pirate (long, long story).
5. Bunny with an Electric Knights poster behind her.
6. The Rose-Owl from the Babylon Wood.
7. Cassie Hack from Hack/Slash.
8. Alice Healy with a nice cake.
9. Velveteen in her Junior Super Patriots yearbook picture.
10. A man-eating plant eating a human arm.

Don't worry if not all of those make sense to you -- they barely all make sense to me, and I drew them. Still, I think they're all pretty nifty, and I'll scan them in after I've had a chance to color them.

Life is good. Time to sleep.

So jimhines has proven himself to be a class act. How? By sending a copy of The Stepsister Scheme to my mother, that's how. An autographed copy, no less. Since I'm not always sure my mother believes that authors actually exist -- the whole publishing process is arcane to her, which is understandable, since it's arcane to me, too -- this was made of awesome and pie. AWESOME AND PIE.

(Mom: "Is this for me?"
Me: "It has your name in it."
Mom: "Is he mad at me?"
Me: "...logic fail, Mom.")

After giving her the book, we went to Target to pick up my prescriptions for the month. (Yes, I am a grown woman. No, I do not drive. Yes, this sometimes means I ask my mother to run errands with me. No, I don't think this is a problem. I pay for gas, and it gives us an excuse to hang out without needing to find an actual activity that we have in common. Beyond playing with/tormenting the cats, flea markets, and going to Target, we mostly avoid that sort of thing.) As we waited, she asked me where I'd come up with some of the words on my new album.

"Like what?" I asked, all innocence.

"Epidemiolo-whatzit," she said.

Cue my mother getting a fifteen minute class on epidemiology while standing in the pharmacy aisle at the Target. Many people turned faintly green. Somehow, this turned into a vigorous explanation of recessive genes, why white cats are deaf, and why male pattern baldness passes through the female line. More people turned faintly green.

My mother's final verdict:

"I have no idea how I made you."

Neither does anybody else, Mom. Neither does anybody else.

I appreciate my privileges, really I do, but right about now, the idea of expressing myself in an entirely coherent and cohesive manner is pretty much entirely beyond me. Conflikt was wonderful, magical, and completely exhausting, in the way that a good working convention essentially always is. There was music, there was laughter, there was passing out in the con suite and complicating the judging of the songwriting contest...the usual things.

(Having now been a Guest of Honor, as well as a Toastmistress -- which is a much more common gig for me -- I have to say that I was right all along; Toastmistress is a far more tiring position. Although all those laps around the hotel probably contributed a lot to my end condition.)

Last night was a post-convention gathering for fire-spinning, fondue, cuddling with kittens, and generally existing as happy people in a happy people world. I was prompted to tell the story of my crazy uncle and his ravens, since Batya and Merav went and wrote them into a parody; Sooj and Betsy did their version of 'Tam Lin' for a deeply appreciative audience; we broke out 'Wicked Girls' and rocked the house. The usual assortment of wonders. And then I spent essentially the entire day in transit, resulting in me hauling my broken, battered carcass over the threshold to be mugged by Siamese cats.

All but one of the pre-orders designated for at-con delivery actually got delivered (I'm going to mail the last one). Only about half the chapbooks were complete by the con, due to unexpected issues with chickenpox, and they sold out with astonishing speed; the rest will be made available when they're finished (thus actually allowing people who got the first chapbook, but weren't there this weekend, to have a shot). I have bunches of new art cards in need of coloring; right now, I doubt I could stay inside the lines if you paid me.

Bed now. Coherence later.

I have packed my suitcase, checked my carry-on, spoken to my editor, and answered all my major pending email (as in, I still have what is most politely referred to as 'a fuck-ton' of email to answer, but none of it is actively on fire at this specific moment in time). I have verified the location of my photo ID, verified the airline and the airport I'm destined for -- I have a nasty tendency to remember when I fly, but not remember where I'm flying from -- and picked up my comics from the comic book store.

I have given Joe Fields, the owner of my comic book store, a copy of Red Roses and Dead Things, because it made him laugh, and I think anybody who's lucky enough to have a comic store guy like Joe should make him happy whenever it's possible. He's just awesome. I have packed food for the journey, since I have to leave my house at four to catch a seven-thirty plane to get to Seattle by nine-thirty, and that's a bit long to depend on airport food and Tootsie Pops.

I have packed emergency Tootsie Pops.

This is my first convention of 2009; the beginning of what currently promises to be a terrifyingly exciting, action-packed adventure of a year. As I was discussing with Vixy the other day, the Everything You Ever Wanted Fairy doesn't just show up with a few of the things you've casually wished for over the years, she shows up with everything, and you'd better be ready to cope. Perhaps I should have requested the attention of the Some Of The Things You've Ever Wanted Fairy. But I think that, in the end, I'm genuinely happy with the one I have.

All right, 2009; I'm going to leave the house real soon now. And in the interests of being a proper Halloweentown Disney princess coyote girl, I say...

...bring it on.

So I haven't been posting many word counts recently -- not, as one person jokingly asked, because I've given up writing in favor of playing Kingdom Hearts for the fifteenth time, but because I've entered one of those phases where the word counts are somewhat less quantifiable. If I start out with a file containing 50,000 words, and finish with a file containing 51,000 words, I've clearly written 1,000 words, right? Well, what if, in the process of working that day, I deleted an entire chapter, replaced it with a new chapter, and rewrote three fight sequences? I actually wrote 11,000 words. My net gain, however, is 1,000. And how do you measure revisions? Sometimes I'll spend six hours of quality time with a manuscript and a machete, and come away bleeding, grinning, and down a couple of thousand words. Negative word counts seem a little silly in that situation. I wind up just waving my hands around in the air and saying, blankly, 'lots.'

I've actually been busting ass around here lately. Discount Armageddon got a whole new first chapter, as did Late Eclipses of the Sun; in the case of Discount Armageddon, the original first chapter stayed on as the new second chapter, but in the case of Late Eclipses, well...kill your darlings. I've said it often enough that I really do need to learn how to live by it. I've also done some serious restructuring on the rest of Discount Armageddon, making it tighter, leaner, and much more prepared to dance the samba all over whatever happens to get in its way.

Late Eclipses is going through a similar, but much more dramatic, series of restructurings; several large swaths of the book are being tossed out the window and completely rewritten, including, so far, the original chapters one and two. (One of the other things I say way too often to plead ignorance: the author can be wrong, and that's what rewrites are for.) The story is still essentially the same, it's just getting tighter and more directed in the things that it's saying. That, and I'm slaughtering a lot of wishy-washy modifiers. They're like kittens -- one is awesome, thirty is a crazy cat lady.

I'm just about finished working on Discount Armageddon for a little while, since it's a busy book with places to go and people to see. This is going to mean the return of the word counts for The Mourning Edition, as I get back to work on my favorite zombie universe, and probably the beginning of the editorial revisions on An Artificial Night.

In short, even when it looks like I'm goofing off and having fun with art supplies, I'm working too much to sleep.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee.

Since I fly to Seattle tomorrow -- because, of course, every good California girl who gets cold when someone says the words 'wind-chill factor' should absolutely fly from her nice, temperate state into an ongoing blizzard for the holidays -- I've been spending a great deal of my time and attention getting ready for this exciting holiday adventure. It's always a holiday adventure when you combine me, Vixy, Tony, access to art supplies, access to Rock Band, and a lot of free time. And that doesn't even go into our actual plans for the ten days that I'm going to be up in their neck of the woods. Highlights include...

* A trip to Powell's, the City of Books! Where I will once again demonstrate that I have absolutely no common sense when it comes to judging the number of books I actually need vs. the number of books my house can actually hold. I swear, I need a dedicated library. Which means I need to move out of earthquake country, since otherwise, there's a tragic Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction-related death in my future.

* A trip to Voodoo Doughnut, the pastry shop of doom, destruction, and a nice vanilla glaze! Seriously, I've never been to this place, but the descriptions (and photographs) on their website are scaaaaaary. They have Captain Crunch doughnuts. They have literal voodoo doll doughnuts. They do not currently have the NyQuil doughnuts, and that's probably a good thing, because I would totally feel compelled to eat one, and then I'd sleep until New Years.

* Musical rehearsal with the Garcias! Alisa and Luis Garcia are two of the sweetest, most incredibly awesome people I know. They're also crazy-good musicians with three fantastic kids and a really cute dog. Honestly, only their lack of broadband Internet keeps their lives from resembling a glimpse into Geek Heaven. Tony, Vixy, and I are going to pile into their guest house and get our musical badassitude on. (I have, once again, designed a concert set of almost entirely new material. My friends will kill me one of these days.)

* A meet-up with Team Seattle! I have no real clue what this means, beyond 'I finally get to meet Mark 'oh, what's this, I seem to have written a supernatural romance starring a zombie before you could, how did that happen, ha ha' Henry in the presumably living flesh,' but I'm anticipating a lot of wacky antics, and maybe a repeatable anecdote or two. (Given that I can find repeatable anecdotes in making toast, my odds are good.)

...and, of course, the house concert on January 3rd, wherein Vixy, Tony, and I will be bringing down the house and raising the roof at the same time. We're like magicians. Magicians of rock. There may also be a little roll in there. Rock, roll, all that good stuff. I may even be able to convince Tony that he wants to perform 'Sycamore Tree' in public.

So anyway, preparations have been ongoing for the past few weeks, gathering speed like a snowball running down a hill in a Warner Brothers cartoon. I've managed to mostly finish packing, assuming Lilly didn't slaughter my suitcase last night while I was at Kate's, and the total cleansing of my room* has helped to confirm the divide between 'what I need' vs. 'what I have.' Today's to-do list is all little things, like 'buy Luna bars,' 'pick up comics,' and 'print your tickets.' This is in contrast to last week's to-do lists, which still included items like 'where the hell is the bedroom floor?' and 'enslave the Martians.'

The inclusion of a house concert in the holiday plans meant the inclusion of dress-up clothes in my traveling wardrobe, since Vixy and I both tend to wear pretty dresses when we perform. The inclusion of dress-up clothes meant a sudden up-tick in my personal grooming. And that's why last night, prior to having tasty Indian food and watching The Usual Suspects with Kate, I went to the Harmony Beauty Salon -- our torture chamber of choice -- and had my legs waxed. Ever had your legs waxed? It's exciting new adventure in the realms of pain and exfoliation, since the wax also removes several layers of dead skin from whatever it touches. Also, the wax is green, and looks suspiciously like the mutagent from the old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon. Mutation could be just around the corner! Which makes me feel better about the whole process.

Pain. Because without it, how would we really know that it's the holiday season?

(*Seriously. It's totally clean. I took pictures as soon as I was finished, because otherwise, nobody would ever believe me that I had managed to get it to that state. A photo tour of my bedroom, coming soon to a theater near you.)

I am a magpie by nature and a flea market aficionado by nurture; I have a finely-honed nose for yard sales, second-hand stores, unexpected caches of used books, and little hole-in-the-wall junk shops on the verge of going out of business. I come by it honestly -- my mother and my grandmother both amassed collections that put mine to shame. In my mother's case, several times, since she keeps rebooting her stash and starting over from scratch. I sometimes suspect that we may be descended from dragons, except for the part where I don't really care much for spicy food.

I have spent the last two days locked in unending battle with my bedroom, where the phrase 'well, it still closes...' has been uttered more than once, and never in jest. I've toted out boxes and bags of debris, given my mother two large boxes of toys to take to my suddenly acquired* collection of nieces and nephews, mailed a bunch of holiday and birthday gifts -- some even for this year -- and taken out three bags of recycling.

It still looks vaguely as though an atomic bomb has gone off in here. Perhaps more worryingly, I'm still missing things. Where's the second volume of X-Men: The Complete Onslaught Saga? Where's my soundtrack to The Slipper and the Rose? Where, for the love of all that's holy, is the cat?

Actually, that's easy. The cat's in my suitcase, hoping to sneak to Seattle with me. Sorry, Lilly. I'm not quite that unobservant.

I don't think anyone can deny that this is an improvement -- all my dresser drawers are closed, you can see most of the rug, both my dressers are totally cleaned off, and my desk is only under about six inches of crap -- but really, I've just managed to get the place to the point where it looks like someone might be getting ready to clean. And I still haven't addressed the question of what I'm going to do with the big CD rack (homeless since the removal of the snake cage), or where the leftover penguins are supposed to go (I'm beginning to consider the garbage disposal).

Dear Great Pumpkin: if you see that Santa Claus guy heading for my place this year, please punch him in the nose and send over a maid service instead. They may need flamethrowers, machetes, and holy water. Oh, and Kevlar, because the cats are pointy and I suspect Nyssa may be undead.

Love, me.

(*It turns out that when your baby sister marries a woman who already has kids, and who has a sister of her own who also has kids, you become an aunt. Who knew?)