By this time tomorrow morning, I will be at the San Francisco International Airport, drinking overpriced airport beverages and waiting for my 8am flight to New York. I will have kissed my cats goodbye and walked through the Bay Area house for what will be, in many ways, the last time: when I get back from New York, the house will still be here, but everything I own will be gone, packed up and pulled down and shoved into the moving truck, already making its way up the coast.

From June 3rd to June 28th, I will be on the East Coast, doing business (numbers, numbers, math math math), doing pleasure (people who know how badly I need to be distracted from what's happening in California have made sure I will have many good distractions), doing appearances (I will be at the Manhattan Kinokuniya on June 11th; details are here: https://www.facebook.com/events/1547988148830559/ ), and doing conventions (CrossingsCon, in Newark, New Jersey, with my beloved Mark Oshiro).

Things I will not be doing: mailing stuff. All my stuff will be a) on the West Coast, and b) in a moving truck. Replying to email with anything resembling alacrity. Sleeping much, between "New York in June" and "did I mention people are touching all my stuff and my cats are very far away?". Breathing.

If you're in the New York area, I hope to get a chance to see you this trip (looking at you, The Swarm). If you're not, please be patient with me while I navigate what has been a huge and stressful endeavor, but which seems to be coming, finally, thankfully, to a blessed end.

I have a move date now. Actually, I have a stacked succession of move dates, all of them coming one right after the other, like evil demon ducklings on their way to nibble me to death. And to make things SO MUCH MORE FUN, literally all but one of them happen while I am traveling for work. Seriously. Truck arrives in the Bay Area to get all my stuff loaded into it? New York. Cats are transferred to Kate's so they don't escape during the packing process? New York. Truck leaves for the Pacific Northwest? New York.

I get home, I go to where my cats are, I surrender my keys to the California house (my housemate, who is staying in the area, will be handling the sale with the help of a realtor we both trust), and then Kate drives me to my new home.

The day the truck arrives to be unloaded, I am, in order, heading for the airport, on a plane, and flying to San Diego to launch my combo book tour with Sarah Kuhn and Amber Benson. BECAUSE THIS ISN'T STRESSFUL AT ALL. (I am lying. I am lying through my teeth. This whole process feels like a huge psych test to see how much pressure I, as a person with OCD, can take before I snap and hide under my bed for the duration of, oh, forever.) All the unloading, all the checking that things aren't broken, is going to happen before I get home.

Vixy is organizing the helpers on the Seattle end of things, and if you're someone I know well enough to be all "hi, want to come and empty a truck that contains all my earthly belongings while I'm, you know, not there, also there will be pizza," you'll probably be receiving an email from me soonish.

I do have a short-term Patreon set up to help with moving costs, located here: https://www.patreon.com/seananmcguire?ty=h

I'll be honest: I would feel guilty about reminding people that the Patreon exists, given how high pledges already are (thank you, thank you, thank you), but moving turns out to be really, really, really, horrifyingly expensive, and all figures are actually 1/3rd lower, due to taxes. So every little bit helps (and our June story, "Stage of Fools," will be a return to the Londinium-era Tybalt--one of my favorite subjects!).

Please expect me to be scattered and a little twitchy for the next few months, while I survive this process. Thank you all so much for being here.

I am currently too sick to die. I picked up a cold in Minnesota, which slammed down on me hard enough and fast enough that I thought it might be strep (it's not strep). I currently have a bone-rattling cough, so much snot in my head that I think my brain may be liquefying, and a general sense of full-body malaise.

This is where you come in.

Please, please, do not prod at me for the next few days unless you have something that absolutely will not wait. Let me rest and recover, because this is slaughtering me, and I have a book release next week, which means I need to rest more than I can say.

Thank you.

I hate making posts like this one, so I'm just going to go ahead and get to it. Here we go:

I am not a vending machine. You can't put a quarter in me to get free stuff exactly when you want it. You can't actually put a quarter in me at all. You can give me a quarter--I like quarters--but I am not a coin-operated story dispenser. I am a people.

I give away a lot of free fiction around here, both via my website (InCryptid shorts, Toby Daye shorts) and via this blog (Velveteen stories). In the case of the website shorts, they represent a lot more than just my writing time. I commission (and pay for) the story covers. In order to make the reading experience as easy and pleasant as possible, I have to ask my friend Will to convert the text files to ePub, MOBI, and PDF (which is, by the way, why I tend to shrug when people report typos; they're free, and the conversion is done on a volunteer basis, which means I am not going to ask him to completely reformat a file unless the error is so catastrophically large as to make the story unreadable). Once the stories are prepared, all the uploading and formatting on my website is done by hand, by me.

There is a lot of invisible back-end labor involved with bringing you a free treat. That's part of why I do the tip jars: they don't just justify my making time to write the stories, even if it means I might have to pass on an anthology. They pay for the covers, and for the administrative time I have to take away from writing in order to make sure everything is working correctly.

This is not me gearing up to asking for money, by the way: there was no tip jar in October, in part because one of the stories funded by the last tip jar has not been posted yet. Because even a "prioritized" story has to fit in around all my other publications and commitments, all the release dates I have to promote, all the conventions I have to attend. Because at the end of the day, while I want to tell you these stories as much as you want to hear them, I still have to be able to tell my publishers that they will come first. They pay my bills. They keep my main series going. They have to come before the freebies.

So why am I saying all this?

Because people keep emailing me going "hey when do we get the next free story." And this makes me feel terrible. It makes me feel like a party trick, like a vending machine, like I have no value apart from what I give away for free. I released a novel in November! I had several short stories come out, in several different genres! But when is the next free story. When is the next free story. Why don't we have it yet. Why aren't you doing it.

I understand eagerness. I genuinely do. I understand wanting to know what happens next now. I used to follow Kelley Armstrong's free fiction, back when she posted it regularly on her website; I get frustrated when my favorite fanfic writers don't publish chapters on schedule. But I am so outnumbered, and when all I hear is "why aren't you giving us more," it's really demoralizing. It kills my desire to give things away for free, and it makes it harder to keep working on those stories.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. But please, remember that I am a person, not a vending machine; I am not just here to give things away. And if I'm not posting something new, it's probably because I'm working my ass off at the things that keep the lights on, not because I'm lounging on a beach somewhere. Please have patience.

Thank you.

Time is broken.

If an apologetic Hermione Granger appeared to me right now and told me that she had been using her Time Turner on my house for the past two days, I would be more relieved than annoyed, because it would explain why I constantly feel like it's an hour later than it is. I have been incredibly productive--good--because I keep looking at the clock, going "wait, what? That can't be right," and then working for another hour, all because I can't believe it's actually that early.

This is a recipe for a fussy, fussy day. Today I made word count on both novel and short fiction projects; exceeded word count on both novel and short fiction projects; answered email; answered Tumblr Asks; processed three chapters of edits on the next Toby book (as opposed to the original target of one chapter); and still had time to watch three episodes of Elementary and take a nap.

I know part of this is my brain going "YES YES GLORIOUS WORD COUNT OH MY GOSH TV YES I HAVE MISSED YOU TV" in celebration on getting home from New York, but honestly, it's weird and I will be happy when I drop back down to my normal levels of restless productivity.

On the plus side, I am home until January. Yay, home.

I also cleaned my desk today! Since I re-calibrated the over-desk "brag shelves" on Friday, this means that my work space is remarkably unmessy for a change. It's cluttered, but that's intentional; I like being able to look up and stare at a bunch of different things. It knocks stuff loose. I need to take some of the things off of my inspiration board, which is getting too cluttered to really inspire the way it needs to, but apart from that? I am tidy.

(Because someone asked me recently: when my desk and brag shelves are "tidy," they contain eleven dolls if you're counting things that are articulated to one degree or another, and eighteen total toys with eyes. Lots of things watch me work. None of them are my cats. They would rather watch me nap.)

I hope you're all having as pleasant a winter season as is possible, and that your own workspaces are as clean, or unclean, as you need them to be in order to get shit done.

New York is exhausting.

I have been running hither and yon for the past two weeks; people keep being surprised that I'm still gone, and sometimes "people" involves me. I just woke up from a nap where I dreamt that Thomas had been here in New York with me this whole time (just Thomas; even my subconscious can't imagine putting Alice recreationally on a plane), and I nearly cried when I opened my eyes, because I just needed my kitty.

But I am having a wonderful time. I went to a cheese and champagne party in my honor (mine! As if I were a cheese and champagne event!), spent two days at DAW lounging and reading and being home, saw Fun Home and Hamilton on Broadway (and lost my shit when I realized that September from Fringe was playing Bruce Bechdel in Fun Home), and did lots of other good things. And I still have almost two weeks and a convention to go.

I'm trying to get back into the habit of blogging. I've fallen out of it for a lot of reasons, some good and some bad and some just overwhelmed, but I'm trying. I think I need some balance, and writing things down helps. So expect another post about Fun Home, and one about Hamilton, and one about the life-sized T. Rex at the Times Square Toys R Us, and please remember that I am not home until December 2nd, so communications will continue to be slow and unwieldy, but I am trying, and trying is a lot.

That is all.

Three weeks ago, I was Fan Guest of Honor at Westercon in San Diego. This was a huge privilege, and I am so grateful to the convention for having me. (I am slowly ticking off the Guest of Honorships available to me at Westercon, having been Music Guest of Honor several years ago, when the con was in L.A.)

Two weeks ago, I was back in San Diego as an attending professional at the San Diego International Comic-Con. SDCC is one of the last cons I do "for me," attending because I want to as much as because it's part of my job. It's a big, sprawling, exhausting nightmare of a con, and I love it so.

This past weekend, I was Guest of Honor at Camp Necon in Portsmith, Rhode Island (the only con that involved changing time zones, for which I am deeply grateful). I got home last night, about an hour before midnight.

I.

Am.

Done.

I am not physically as tired as I have been after other adventures, but three weeks of virtually no down time doesn't do good things for my psyche. Right now, I am wiped, I am wasted, I am no longer among the living, and I don't actually get to take a break from things like "the rest of my job." Page proofs must be reviewed; word counts must be made. A book must be edited. Conventions seem like the fun part of what I do, and they are, but they're also the most draining, and I wish I could take a few days to just sleep.

Please don't take this as an invitation to tell me to take care of myself: I am taking care of myself. Part of that is that email responses and the like will be slow for the next week or so, and my social media will be 95% cats and dolls. Please try to use Google or check my FAQs before asking me questions, if you can, just to give me a little more bandwidth, and be patient with me?

I am doing the best I can.

Yesterday I mailed the last of the international shirts. Of the original order, only two packages have not been mailed: both are slated for hand-delivery, and aware of their status.

Today I packaged the shirts that were not included in our initial delivery from the printer. These will go out sometime in the next few days.

Tomorrow...who knows?

If you have any issues with your shirt (wrong size, wrong color), please drop a line to the merch address by June 24th to let us know. Why June 24th? Because that's the day after the date that everyone in the world should have their shirts, regardless of how far away they live from the me-centric starting point. This will give us some time to deal with any shipping issues before we hit July, and I go into convention season hell.

Now, the common questions.

Why did this take so long?

There were several factors. This was the third time we'd done this particular design, and the demand was so much higher this time than either of the previous two that we were honestly caught flat-footed. We didn't expect to need this sort of infrastructure, and because the people who help with this are all volunteers, we really didn't have the resources.

There was also the matter of, well. The more people show up, the more people will assume that I am a corporation, and not a girl who is likely to be making these updates in her pajamas. Several folks were very rude to my merch team. Several people did not pay until months after our initial deadline, which put the whole project behind schedule. These may seem like small problems, but they killed a lot of our enthusiasm for stuffing shirts in mailboxes, and slowed the whole process down.

Ouch. Will you be doing this again?

No. This was our last bespoke shirt run, for the reasons given above.

Are there any shirts left over?

Yes, a few. I'll be selling them at conventions, once we're absolutely sure that everyone's shirt issues have been ironed out and that everybody is happy.

Will you sell them via mail?

Probably not. Postage is expensive, and I'm tired of mailing things. If you're in desperate need of a backup or replacement, feel free to send me an email; if I have your size, we may be able to work something out.

And that is all. Thank you all for your patience.

We are almost done.

So I went to Eastercon recently. Hooray! If you don't know, Eastercon is the British national science fiction convention, held every Easter weekend. This year, I was one of their guests of honor, which meant hey, I got to go to England! Hooray x2!

Only, see...I get the jet lag. I get the jet lag badly. I always have. I wrote an entire romantic comedy about jet lag (Chasing St. Margaret, not coming any time soon to a bookstore near you). I am not a girl who switches time zones quickly or easily. Normally, I deal with this by giving myself time before the convention to adjust. Sadly, this time, that wasn't an option, as I was a Special Guest at Emerald City Comic Con the weekend before. My schedule looked like this:

Monday morning, fly from Seattle back to San Francisco.
Tuesday morning, get my hair done.
Wednesday morning, fly to England.
Thursday morning, land in England.
Friday morning, the con begins.

...not ideal. And maybe it would have been okay if I had been able to sleep on the plane (I usually can), but this time the guy next to me wouldn't stop snoring, and I had a cough from the cleaning products at the airport, and it was no good. I was awake all the way to London, reading and fussing and trying not to be the worst person anyone had ever shared a plane with.

My handler picked me up at the airport and delivered me to the hotel, where I proceeded not to sleep. And not to sleep. And finally to sleep for twelve hours, which resulted in my sleeping through a panel. When I finally woke up, I went looking for her to apologize, and had literally upward of thirty people laugh and tell me they'd missed me.

Things not to do to people with anxiety: remind them thirty times that they are a failure.

I had a full-blown panic attack, complete with inability to breathe, and stopped sleeping again, since sleeping now equated directly to fucking up. HOORAY. I didn't sleep until I got to Teddy and Tom's after the con, where I crashed for thirteen hours, was up for three, and then napped. I never did get quite onto UK time. I've been home for over a week, and I'm barely returning to normal.

Jet lag sucks.

Thomas met us at the door last night, tail puffed out, already singing the song of his people. Alice shunned me for about an hour, skittering from room to room, refusing to let me look her in the eye. When she settled, she announced it by crawling on top of me and purring for an hour solid, making it impossible to sleep.

Home.

I always think, when I'm traveling, that I'll come in the door and be stunned by how much stuff I have amassed. "I'm finally going to see the mess for what it is, and be able to get rid of half of it with no regrets," I think, and then I get into my room, and crawl into the mass of plush toys that is my bed, like a Pokemon into long grass, and I remember that this is why I have so much stuff: because it defines the borders of my space. It claims the space in a way that is very precious to me. It's not careless clutter. It's careful assertion of my right to exist, safely, in this space.

Home.

I am so tired that I can feel my bones, and I'm working my way through a dozen slow to-do lists, some of them time-sensitive, others that just need to be accomplished. I am where I belong, at least for a little while, at least until I have to leave again.

Home.

There's no place I'd rather be.

Well, there we go: the first unmovable object has been dropped into my 2017 calendar, and all else will now need to work around it.

2017. Wow.

I do a lot of conventions. I have a lot of book release parties. I try to get to Disneyland as often as I can (mostly for the sake of my sanity, following the first two items on this list). This means that I am scheduled very, very far in advance, and have to keep careful notes about where I am when, to avoid situations like, oh, Seattle one weekend and London the next. To give a non-specific example that didn't cause me to spend three days awake due to jet lag, honest.

No. Not honest. Lying. I did not avoid that situation, and it's dreadful.

What makes it tricky is that frequently, I can't say "I am booked for Memorial Day weekend in timezone X," because the convention I'm going to be guesting at hasn't made their announcement yet. As someone who used to organize conventions, being able to control that announcement is very, very important, which is why I never say anything without permission. But it means that my schedule may look completely clear, when really, there's a cascade of conventions that's about to be revealed, ha ha, fooled you. (Everything goes on my schedule as it gets revealed, and can be found on the front page of my website.) This is why I sometimes have to decline invitations with a "please consider me for next year." I really do mean it.

I love conventions. I love travel. I love meeting people and doing things.

But oh, sometimes, I want a nap.

So last weekend was Emerald City Comic Con. Lots of fun stuff there, lots of big things coming from some of our favorite creators, and lots and lots and lots and lots of walking. Ugh. I spent the weekend in the walking boot, and I still felt like someone had been beating my left foot and ankle with iron bars by the time it was all over. I had a great time; I can't wait for next year; I got home in dire need of a nap. That has basically been my week: "Seanan is in dire need of a nap."

As always happens when I'm sleep-deprived, pretty much anything that wasn't word count or absolutely essential business has fallen by the wayside. I'm behind on email, LJ comments, various accounting bits...everything. I managed to book my tickets to Europe (I'm going to DISNEYLAND PARIS!) and continue dealing with my taxes, but everything else? Hoo nelly, no. It's all been put off until I could say, with sincerity, "I am awake, and will not accidentally slice my fingers off."

On the plus side, I'm staying current with word count, and I'm on track to finish A Red-Rose Chain (aka "Toby book nine") this month, allowing me to get it off to the Machete Squad and move on to the next items on my list. I will never finish the list. The list is an endless road stretching off into the ever-moving future. But the list is a guide and a map and a benediction, and nothing makes me happier than knowing that it's always growing. I'll reach the end when I die.

Also on the plus side, I have finished copies of Sparrow Hill Road and Robot Uprisings, and they're both gorgeous. I have now filled two long shelves just with books I've written, and I'm about to have to rearrange my shelves again. So I'm doing okay at my job.

How's everybody else?

(Comment amnesty is on. I genuinely want to know how you are, but I don't want to put myself any further behind than I already am.)

I will post happy cheery reminders about today being the release of Parasite very soon, but I just woke up after staggering home way too late last night (delayed flights in Orange County, whee), and wanted to drop a few admin notes before I forgot:

1. If you want to send me a private message, please, please use my website contact form rather than using LJ or Facebook messenger services. I have trouble replying within those forms, which often translates to "I won't reply within those forms." (I don't have a no-reply policy for LJ, but I do for Facebook.) My website contact form goes to my PA, who answers really simple questions like "where can I buy this?" and forwards everything else along to me. I answer as quickly as I can.

2. This LJ has an open friend/unfriend policy. Yes, it makes me sad when people I know IRL unfriend me, because I am a human being living in a human world, but I won't hunt you down with torches and pitchforks to demand to know why. At the same time, if you remove me from your friend list, I will remove you. Please don't unfriend me and then get mad when I do the same to you.

3. And while I'm asking for unreasonable things, please wait until I get the official Parasite discussion post up to start commenting about the book. I want to keep the various threads safe for the spoiler-averse for as long as possible.

And now I nap.

It is with sorrow and sincere regret that I must announce that the Stars Fall Home reprint will not be available by this year's Memorial Day conventions. The CD duplicator needs a certain amount of time to turn everything around, and since I'm leaving for Disney World in ten days, the window for file transmission has unfortunately closed. We weren't able to get all the necessary pieces together in time, and so the actual duplication has to be delayed until a) we have all the components, and b) I'm in the state of California to deal with them.

I'm really, really sorry. I know people were excited to get their hands on the new version of the album; so was I, and I'm devastated to have to tell you all that it's not going to happen as quickly as I had originally hoped.

I will keep you all posted.

Sorry again.

I am a bad, bad blonde blogger, and shall have no blogger blondie brownies, which breaks my heart, because blogger blondie brownies are the best brownies, better than butterscotch or banana brittle, and as I have now fucked around with alliteration for like, way longer than anyone really should, I will stop. Ahem. Anyway:

There's been an unplanned radio silence here, and for that, I apologize. The world sort of reared up and slapped me across the face with a wave of busy, and I've paddling frantically as I try to keep my head above water, my word counts marching in the right direction, and my cats from eating me. I'm trying to get things back to normal, but it's going to take a little while (and will probably happen just before I leave for Disney World on the 17th, thus making the entire enterprise pointless).

I did want to mention something, though, while we have the natural conversational opening of "I've been overwhelmed." And here it is, in bold text and everything, so that you can't miss it:

Unless you are my agent, my editor, a member of my proofing pool, or my significant other, your email/inquiry is not prioritized above anyone else's.

Please don't email me three times asking whether I got your email. If you sent it less than a month ago, the fact that you haven't heard back doesn't mean the message is missing; it means I have 300 emails to answer, and you're halfway down the heap. (If you did email more than a month ago, yeah, go ahead and email me. Once.) Please don't send me Tumblr asks or private messages going "hey why haven't you linked to..." or "you haven't replied to my comment on..." I'm getting to everything just as fast as I can, but triage is hard, and only certain things get an automatic float to the top.

If you're inquiring about a missing shirt, or something similar, use the merch address, which Deborah monitors for the sake of responding faster than I can. If you're asking about something time sensitive, feel free to say so in your email, but also understand that I may look at your question, go "that's not time sensitive to me," and resume emailing my editors/agent/machete squad about things that have firm, unbreakable deadlines.

I will continue to try to be as accessible as I can, but this is a super-busy time for me, and I'm exhausted and out of cope. Thank you for understanding.

I'm still recovering from Disneyland, which means I'm slow-moving and easily confused, sort of like the last dinosaur standing at the Cambrian border and going "Huh, I wonder if that comet wants to be friends with me." Here. Have some reviews. This is what my brain can handle.

Australian Speculative Fiction in Focus has posted a conversational review of the overall Newsflesh trilogy. This is a really nifty format for reviewing! I like it a lot, although it sort of prevents pull quotes. Spoilers abound, naturally, as they're discussing the series as a whole.

Geek Girls Rule has posted a review of Ashes of Honor, and says, "I enjoyed this book immensely. It was everything I want and expect from a Toby Daye novel: A fast read, an emotional roller coaster, with a fairly intricate plot." Spiffy! Also, she refers to "the Simon Torquill Traveling Show of Evil Bullshit." I would like tickets to this midway, please and thank you.

Kathy Takes On Books has posted a review of Ashes of Honor, and says, "McGuire is colorful and describes people, scenes, and battles beautifully. She does an incredible job of blending the supernatural wonders of the fae with the down home qualities of Toby and overlaying it all with very human values." I am colorful because I am secretly a Disney princess.

Jonathan Crowe has posted a review of the overall Newsflesh trilogy, and says, "The devil is in the details, which McGuire just nails: the testing and decontamination protocols, and how people's lives are distorted and diminished by them. The books say quite a bit about fear and security theatre that is certainly applicable to contemporary events, but McGuire isn't beating you about the head with an agenda here. The books' focus is first and foremost on the characters, their cares and their wants, and McGuire imbues them with life and affection, and she makes you care about them." Spoilers abound.

Calico Reaction has posted a review of "San Diego 2014: The Last Stand of the California Browncoats," and says, "The overall story, a documentary of sorts, was so sad. And yet, weirdly cathartic. I can't describe it any other way. There were so many fantastic little moments where my heart ached for these people, especially as the story reached the end." I so want to write Space Crime Continuum fanfic, I can't even.

Finally for today, CC2K has posted a review of Ashes of Honor. Um. An advance review, originally, which says something about how behind I am on these. Anyway, she says, "If you dig urban fantasy, this is one of the best out there. If you're looking to try the genre for the first time, this series could be the place to start." Dude.

That's all for today. Catch you when I'm less prehistoric.

10. Tired. So very, very, very, profoundly, mind-warpingly tired. I didn't sleep on the plane today, for a variety of reasons, and have thus effectively been awake for seventeen hours.

9. But I'm still up because I have to work tomorrow, and that means not allowing myself to become stuck on East Coast time.

8. I had a lovely time! I got to spend time with old friends and new ones, and unexpectedly with John Joseph Adams, who sat and read slush in the hotel lobby, like the diligent editor that he sometimes pretends to be.

7. Hugo voting closes tonight. I am trying to distract myself from thinking about this by shopping for the jewelry to wear with my Hugo dress. This is working. Sort of.

6. I'm too tired to write, so I've been processing Machete Squad edits instead. If I'm too tired to understand the sentence as it was originally written, it probably needs work.

5. The cats are ecstatic, and clingy. Like briars that purr.

4. I think I just found my Hugo necklace, and it is judging you.

3. I'm about to get off the internet and go watch TV until it's safe to go to bed, because oh, Great Pumpkin, the tired. It burns.

2. But I thought you might like to know I was alive.

1. Zombies are love.

Well, it's official: as of this past Sunday (when I was a bad monkey, and had abandoned my beloved cats for the dubious comforts of Comic-Con), Thomas Price Lynn Rhymer Taylor McGuire, my blue classic tabby and white male Maine Coon, is two years old. This means he has ceased to be a kitten, and has become an official cat. Not that he seems to have noticed. Most of his time is still spent racing around the house like a loon, collapsing in my arms and purring loudly, and demanding to be fed. With any luck, this is his adult personality, and I have finally fulfilled my childhood dream of having a twenty-pound kitten.

The cats, all three, are still very clingy and unsettled about my recent trip to San Diego, which went on rather longer than any of them wanted it to, and has resulted in my spending my nights beneath roughly eighty pounds of fluff. This is why I am going to be slaughtered in my sleep Sunday night, since I'm leaving work early today and flying straight to Portland. Alas. On the plus side, I intend to have a good time while I'm there, and I'm only gone for three nights this time. Maybe they won't notice.

...no, that's silly. They're going to eat me.

(Portland is not a public event, by the way, which is why it's not listed on my Appearances page. Always check there if you want to know if I'm going somewhere for social and sharable reasons.)

Naturally, I am totally exhausted, which has led to things like poor Vixy getting told all about the Tyrannosaurus leech. (She took it better than Shawn did when I told him about the axolotl.) I've managed to shower, do laundry, and pack a suitcase that's actually cleared for flight, containing no weapons of any kind. This is an accomplishment in my current condition, and I want you all to be very, very proud of me.

San Diego was lovely, and I'm going to keep promising to write a con report right up until too much time has passed and I forget about it. (This fate has claimed so very many trips in recent years. Disney World anyone?) Right now, I'm going to take a few deep breaths and prepare to plunge back into the fray. Because it never, never ends.

See you when I get home!

So yesterday I was floored by one of those migraines that turns the whole world blurry with pain. Normal people might interpret this as the body wanting a break. I interpreted it as "take a nap before you make word count," and then made word count anyway, because what else am I supposed to do?

Here is the current shape of my 2012/2013, with travel dates and everything. Beautiful travel dates. Hope to see you sometime in the months to come.

Publications

2012:
"Crystal Halloway and the Forgotten Passage," reprint, June 2012.
"San Diego 2014: The Last Stand of the California Browncoats," July 2012.
Ashes of Honor, September 2012.
When Will You Rise?, October 2012.

2013:
"Laughter at the Academy: A Study in the Development of Schizotypal Creative Genius Personality Disorder (SCGPD)," February 2013.
Midnight Blue-Light Special, March 2013.
Parasite, June 2013.
Chimes at Midnight, September 2013.

"Rat-Catcher," unknown.
"A Dry Death," unknown.

Conventions/Appearances

2012:
San Diego International Comic Convention, July 11-14, San Diego CA.
Confluence, July 27-29, Pittsburgh PA.
Spocon, August 10-12, Spokane WA.
Chicon (WorldCon 2012), August 30-September 3, Chicago IL.
Windycon, November 8-11, Chicago IL.

2013:
JordanCon, April 19-21, Roswell GA.
SFContario, November 29-December 1, Toronto Canada.

No fixed deadline/being written/unsold:

"Fiber"
"Daughter of the Midway, the Mermaid, and the Open, Lonely Sea"
"These Antique Fables"
"Pixie Season"
Sparrow Hill Road
"Velveteen vs. The Fright Night Sorority House Massacre Sleepover Camp, Part III."
"Stingers and Strangers"
"Married in Green"
"Loch and Key"
"In Sea Salt Tears"
Chimes at Midnight
Parasite
Echo
"How Green This Land, How Blue This Sea"
"Train Yard Blues"
"Carry Me Home"

I don't think it's any secret around here that I've been running at warp speed basically since a month before WorldCon, last year. This has resulted in a general decrease in available content here at my journal, because slowing down enough to type an entry hasn't always been an option. So here are some things I've meant to blog about, and haven't:

1. I went to Disney World for a week, with Vixy and Amy and Brooke and Patty. My mother and sister were there, too, but we sort of had parallel-but-rarely intersecting vacations. This was ideal, as my idea of "fun at Disney" involves pin trading and shows and ice cream and frogs, while theirs involves luaus and smoking and ludicrous plush and more smoking. Our only real point of overlap is roller coasters, and we already had a full car.

2. Also I went to Disneyland for a weekend, with Vixy, my mom, and my sister. See above for the basics.

3. I watched a lot of television, in an extremely non-critical manner. I don't believe that you should shut off your brain completely while consuming entertainment, but sometimes I really just want to be all "you know what? I like what I like," and not be all analytical and thoughtful about it. This stops when somebody blows up a blonde girl.

4. I went to New York for a week and a half, where I saw the Counting Crows (with my agent), Ludo (with a large group of friends, my former editor, and my agent; I have a very full-service agent), and The Devil's Carnival (with several friends, including Tu, who I didn't even realize was on the East Coast until I found her in line).

5. Also there is a permanent haunted house called Times Scare in New York, open 365-days a year. If I lived there, I would wind up asking about a Frequent Dier's card or something, because I would be in there at least once a week, being chased by a man with a chainsaw and giggling unnervingly.

6. I wrote some book club articles for SFX Magazine. The second, which is about The Midwich Cuckoos, is out now. I need to think more about the responses some of the readers have had to the book (not to my article), because they're fascinating to me. But basically? I got paid for my Wyndham and telepaths obsession. Life is good.

7. I went to Maine! I stayed with Cat and Dmitri! I want to move to Maine! I won't, because I'm moving to Washington, but seriously, in another timeline, I have already bought a house on Peaks Island, and I am not sorry. I sort of envy that version of me.

8. An old friend from high school literally showed up on my doorstep. Randomly.

9. I ate six pounds of cherries and I'm not sorry about that either.

10. I am currently behind on word count in several areas, which is why comments are going unanswered for what feels like, to me, an unreasonably long time. But I'm catching up. Slowly. I think.

And those are some of the things I've been too frazzled to blog about.

1. First off, for those of you who may have missed it yesterday, the cover of Ashes of Honor has been posted for your viewing pleasure. Chris McGrath has done it again, and I am totally overjoyed by the ongoing evolution of Toby. (Also by the fact that I am now six books into an urban fantasy series, and the most sexualized my protagonist has been was on the cover to book five, where she had no pants on. She was also a fish at the time. I am overjoyed.)

2. I am home from Emerald City Comic Con! Yay! I am too tired to die, and there's a very good chance that I am going to bed without any supper tonight because I will be herded by the cats (to my doom), but it was a great weekend, I got many, many hugs, and I am now safely back in the Bay Area. Life is good.

3. Welcome to all the new people who got linked here via my post on diversity in fiction! I'm thrilled that you're here, and promise not to be upset when you realize that I'm rarely that intellectual and go off to do something more useful with your time. I hope you enjoy us while you're at the party. We are already enjoying you.

4. Speaking of not being intellectual all the time...If anyone out there is collecting the blind bag My Little Pony figures, I have all of them except for the basic, non-glittery Rainbow Dash. I have many doubles I can trade, including the special edition Twilight Sparkle. Inquire within. Please.

5. Shirt post coming this week.

That is all. Now I must nap.

I have been home, dead of sick, for two days. We're talking "deep, rasping chest cough, I sound like a Batman villain, spent eleven hours on the couch yesterday, watched all of The Number 23 because changing the channel seemed too much like work" levels of sick. (PS: Maybe the number-obsessed OCD girl shouldn't watch movies about being driven to increasing levels of paranoia by numbers when she's already sick. Luckily for me, the movie made no damn sense, and just triggered nice little daydreams about prime factors and pi. What? I don't judge what helps you feel better.) So here is some stuff from my link file that I have been unable to find context for.

First off, no matter how bad a cover your book gets, it will never win the bad cover lottery. That prize has already been claimed by this not-safe-for-work edition of The Princess Bride. What is that I don't even. Flesh-snakes are attacking her lady bits with the intent to burrow their way into the promised land. Presumably the promised land has a cover that makes sense. Also, I do not remember Buttercup using a falcon as a cunning hat. Maybe somebody was hitting the cold meds a little too hard when they approved this one? I don't know.

The next time I go to the UK, I am totally visiting Hoxton Street Monster Supplies, which promises me "bespoke and everyday items for the living, dead, and undead," and is the only shop I've ever seen that was polite enough to request that angry mobs douse their torches before entering. Hell, forget visiting; I want to live there.

This is Alton Brown's Fanifesto. It makes me happy, even as I am sad that it needed to exist.

Disney Princesses have their issues, and I am the last person to pretend that they don't, but they have their good sides, too. This is a lovely collection of moments to illustrate that. (And while I'm pointing you at Princesses, why not swing by Amy Mebberson's Tumblr? Her weekly "Pocket Princesses" cartoons are a real treat.)

Finally, for now, cuckoos are in a biological arms race to continue their egg parasitism ways. So maybe there's hope for humanity. If the cuckoos don't figure out a better way...

I'm going back to bed.

All right: here's the thing. Discount Armageddon is officially released March 6th. That's the date we've been talking about for months, that's the date you should be able to obtain the book, that's the date when sales begin counting against my first week numbers. Any books which escape into the wild before then count against my overall sales, but do not count for that all-important first week. Also, because I am number-based OCD, any books which escape into the wild before then make me feel sick, cry hysterically, and basically become non-functional with stress. It's THE BEST THING.

As of midnight Monday/the very beginning of Tuesday, Amazon has been shipping copies of Discount Armageddon. Consequentially, Barnes & Noble is doing the same thing. I haven't been saying anything because DAW is trying frantically to fix it, and I didn't want to drive sales to the sites which have chosen to release my book early. (I don't blame B&N for reacting when they saw that the book was on sale; they're a business, after all. But it's not helping my stress level any.) Please, please, do not buy my book early. I know it's hard. I know that the urge to have the shiny thing now is strong within us. I've ordered dolls from Japan and Australia, and DVD sets from Canada and the UK, for just this reason. But those things were legitimately released in the regions where I was ordering them, and Discount Armageddon has not been legitimately released anywhere at all. Please wait until March 6th. Don't punish independent bookstores, and local brick and mortar stores, for some computer's hard-to-fix mistake. Please. I am literally begging you here.

It doesn't help that so much of a book's success is measured by their first week. I've basically thrown up every time I thought about my week one numbers (including just now), because these early sales could mean the difference between a series and an accidental duology. It's unlikely—DAW is very loyal, and they stand by me—but it could happen, and I am very much worst-case-scenario girl when I'm this flipped out. So please. Do not buy early. Wait until March 6th.

And then there are the ebooks.

Both Amazon and B&N have put the physical edition of Discount Armageddon on sale, but are still holding the electronic edition for the actual release date. People who receive their physical books early are reaping the benefits of a fortuitous, author-breaking error. People who have to wait for their electronic books are not being denied anything; they're doing what was supposed to happen in the first place. This has not stopped the exciting emails from rolling in. They mostly stopped after the first day, but on that first day, I was called...

( A lot of bad things are behind this cut. If you don't want to see, just go with 'I was called a lot of bad things.'Collapse )

See, apparently, the ebooks are being withheld because I, personally, am trying to force everyone to buy my preferred format (physical). So sexual threats and relentless abuse are totally acceptable, because it just shows me the error of my ways.

I have nothing to do with the books being available early. I wish they weren't.

I have no control over whether the electronic editions are available early. I'm glad they're not, but it's not because I'm a greedy bitch; it's because I don't want any editions available early.

I am literally sick with stress, and this is not in any way helping. Please, don't buy my books before their actual release date. Please, don't place an order with a site which is offering my books before their actual release date. Please, don't call me horrible names because you can't have what you want the second that you want it.

Please.

(Because it must be said...comment amnesty. I'm already crying hard enough.)

I am home from Conflikt! I got up at 4:08 am this morning in order to catch my commuter flight back to San Francisco, and managed to stay awake long enough to read most of the way through Graveminder by Melissa Marr, after finishing Range of Ghosts by Elizabeth Bear. And this is why Seanans always travel with lots and lots of reading material. Nothing brings on insomnia like having nothing to read.

I'd like to say that it was a good convention, but I'll be honest: I don't know. For me, it was a series of charms strung on a silken cord, and some of them were brilliant, and some of them were bright, and some of them could have used a spot of polish, and very few of them went together in a logical way, because that is what a convention while already exhausted and overworked looks like. I had fun. I am awake enough to be quite sure of that.

But oh, there were amazing things. Talis came, white horse girl all the way across the water, one of the oldest denizens of the Babylon Wood, and she sang "Still Catch the Tide" and "Ten Years" in her concert, and I cried like a very crying thing, as did Vixy. There are very few people in this world who can break my heart like Talis can, or who I love half so much for doing it. And she had her new album! Queen of Spindles, and she put it in my hand like a promise or a prayer, and I listened to it all the way home.

Pin-trading with Jovanie and Anne, and stealing Anne's Companion Cube pillow over and over again. Dinner with Brooke and Judi and Ryan, followed by chocolate books. Lunch with Jennifer. Fringe with Ryan and rooming with Brooke and going to Old Navy (as always). The Suttons, tearing up the stage, and Sunnie's Mama Gitka, and Katie Tinney writing the "Wicked Girls" parody I think I shall everafter love most of them all. And rain, and 7-11, and hugs, and friends, and home. I went home this weekend. I will go back soon.

Perhaps then I will be able to stay.

So this is my charm bracelet of a weekend. It flashes lovely in the light, and I can work the clasp even when I'm tired. Soon I'll go to my bed, and my cats, and my dreams of the wood, but for now, I am still partway on a plane, and I am very very far away from home.

So as I get ready to leave, I begin addressing the administrative funtimes that are my inbox. Which leads us to today's exciting question:

"Why hasn't my _____________ been mailed?"

This question comes in three flavors: books, shirts, and ARCs. If you are currently expecting a book from me, it has been mailed. If you don't have it, it's either in transit, or the post office has eaten it. I sadly don't control the post office, and I can't afford to pay for confirmation on every package I send, so unless you sent me money for postage that included tracking, I don't have a way of knowing where it wound up. I'm sorry.

If you are currently expecting a shirt from me, we just received the last box from the printer. It's a small shirt shop, and they were as overwhelmed as I was by the size of the response. We're still packaging and mailing, and will finally be able to start packing and mailing out those shirts that previously didn't exist. Thank you very much for your patience. I can look up individual people on the list, but I ask that you email Deborah at the merchandise account, not me directly; Deborah has the files, and time spent digging through the list of shipped shirts for your name is time I'm not spending putting shirts in envelopes.

If you are currently expecting an ARC from me...here's where things get fun. See, my email? Is apparently broken. As in, "no longer accepting mail from my website contact form." So the addresses of the winners of our last contest never reached me. If you're reading this, please try sending your address again, via LJ messenger this time; my webmaster, Chris, is trying to isolate and repair the problem, but I have no idea how long that's going to take. For the moment, assume that if you've emailed me, I didn't get it.

Because administrative chaos right before a week in Florida is so totally what I needed this year. Happy holidays!

So periodically, someone will ask me "why haven't you posted about _____?", where "_____" is everything from "my charity auction" or "this award" to "the new episode of Glee" or "your pedicure (I saw a picture on Twitter)." And then I tend to look tired and wander away. This isn't actually an answer. Here is an answer, in three parts.

1. Time.

A post like this takes no research; it just takes the time to think the thoughts and write the words. I don't need to fact check, find the links, explain the rules, justify my thoughts, or be funny. I just need to type. Sometimes, that's honestly all that I have the brain, or the bandwidth, to accomplish.

2. Backlog.

My current file of links to post, talk about, or use for reference is so long that it scrolls my screen three times. I've started deleting the really old ones, because they've literally aged out of relevance. But there's a new link, or two, or three every day, and I'm not removing them at nearly that rate. So something that shows up and is cool today probably is in that link file. It's just that unless it's super time-sensitive, it isn't anywhere near the top.

3. Variety.

You know what's boring? An author blog that's all BUY MY BOOKS BUY MY BOOKS BUY MY BOOKS all the time. I have what I consider the "advertising posts," which are things like the review roundups, convention announcements, publication or sale announcements, and so on. I have the "administrative posts," like this one. And then I have the "content posts," which actually say things other than "BUY MY BOOKS" or "please don't spit on the cat." I try to maintain a good mix, but it means that sometimes, things have to wait. Since I considered both the entry on where to buy my books for the holidays, and the entry about Shaenon's party, advertising posts, I needed to do some content and administration before I advertised again. Which meant certain things needed to wait.

And that is why I do not post everything that happens the second that it happens. There's no hard and fast rule dictating what gets posted when, but time, effort, and maintaining a decent level of variety are all factors.

Welcome to the November 2011 list of current projects, because I am the gift that keeps on giving, and time is the gift that keeps on taking. 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 all books currently in print are off the list, as are those that have been turned in but not yet printed (Blackout). 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 )

So last night, my body decided it was time to hit the shiny red STOP button on my life, by bringing on a bell-clanging migraine of the sort that I only have once or twice a year. I went to bed at six o'clock, figuring I'd sleep until eight or nine, and have trouble going to bed, but feel much better. Instead, I slept until seven the next morning, and woke up groggy, dehydrated, and feeling faintly like I'd been hit by a truck.

Needless to say, I did not go into the office today.

Instead, I have done ALL THE WORK here at home, and written ALL THE WORDS, in-between unplanned naps and episodes of Criminal Minds. I'm on season three now, which is very comforting and reassuring. By season three, most shows have found their feet, settled in for the long haul, and stopped shifting their perspectives without warning. It's a nice place to be. And serial killers make me feel better.

I'm hammering away on Midnight Blue-Light Special, hoping to buy myself Sunday as a free day for processing edits on Ashes of Honor, since every little bit counts. I'm also working on the page proofs for Discount Armageddon, and writing another John/Fran story set decades before the start of the series. Literally decades; they're the parents of the POV character's grandmother. It's one of my favorite universes, because it's both very open and accessible, and very close and snug. I love that sort of narrative contradiction.

The cats have loved this last day. Thirteen hours in bed, followed by hours and hours without leaving the house? Feline bliss. They'd be happier if I would feed them more than twice, but right now, they're taking what they can get, and what they're getting is my total attention. I'm a little vexed about today being a no-mail holiday, since I wanted to both send and receive mail. Since I didn't make it outside, I should probably let the vexation go.

And that's my Friday. Hope you're all gearing up to an amazing weekend!

Things are insane around here (which is ironic, given that I'm finally between conventions), so here are the updates and events du jour, presented in convenient bite-sized fashion.

Science Crawl.
Tomorrow night (Friday, November 4th) the Bay Area Science Crawl will be at Borderlands Books from 7:15 until 8:15 PM. Quote: "The Bay Area Science Festival is proud to present the first ever Sci-Crawl, a coordinated takeover of venues throughout San Francisco’s Mission District, showcasing the science inherent in the neighborhood." I'll be appearing as Mira on a panel discussing the Science of Science Fiction, along with Jeff Carlson and Scott Sigler, and moderated by Brian Malow. The event is free, and should be super-fun. Come and join the geek!

Dental horrors.
Yesterday, I had dental surgery. Yes, again. This time, I managed to somehow break a titanium post inside my mouth. SUPER FUN. Without going into details, largely because they would freak me out, I shall simply say that I am rarely given that many pharmaceuticals during a twenty-four hour period, and I can still taste colors. No fun at all. I basically lost a day and a half to a great gray pit.

T-shirt mailing.
According to my spreadsheet, there are still over a hundred shirts that have not been introduced to envelopes. Over a hundred means that one in three, roughly, has not been mailed. Unless you have reason to think that gnomes have stolen the contents of your mailbox, please don't email yet asking where, specifically, your shirt is located. I'm packing and mailing them just as fast as I possibly can, and this being such a manual process means that it's very hard to track specific list items. Also, because there is such a variance of colors and styles, sometimes the only way to find a shirt is to remove all the shirts around it, which makes it impossible to go "oh, you mean this one? Yeah, it's right here." So I plead for patience. All you do by poking without good cause is make me, and Deborah, sad and grumpy.

Cats.
We're coming up on the one-year anniversary of Alice getting so very, very sick, and she has realized that this means she can basically get away with anything, just by doing while Not Being Sick. This morning, she hit my abdomen like a fuzzy bowling ball, shoved her wet feet up my nose, and trilled happily, only to receive hugs and love, because She Wasn't Sick. Am I setting a bad precedent? Yeah, probably. Do I care? Not one damn bit. Alice isn't sick, and that's really what I need out of life.

Television.
All the shows are coming back on the air. ALL THE SHOWS. Bones starts up again tonight, and I'm gamely plugging through season two of Criminal Minds, which means I may be catching up to watching it live before too much longer. It may seem counter-productive to watch this much TV while also trying to get writing done, but it actually speeds me up, by giving me something to finish for. Speaking of which...

Writing.
Ashes of Honor is done, and I'm getting ready to go into draft two. Midnight Blue-Light Special is finally moving at what I'd call a reasonable pace, and I'm about a quarter of the way through the projected text. And there are various other projects kicking around, including the second installment of the latest Vel story, which will take us to four for the year I can so make my goal. Hah.

Zombies.
Are love.

This is me, inchworming into the future. I'm stealing a page from Bear's book, and hoping that a little rolling accountability will make me, if not saner, then at least easier to understand when I start to flail and cry about the ice worms coming out of the wall. ICE WORMS EVERYWHERE.

In other news, Kate and I canceled dinner last night, which turned out to be a good thing, because I have the clingiest clinging cats in Clingycatdonia. They are distraught by my recent travels. I think that if I hadn't come home last night, I'd never be seen again after tonight.

Not everything is on this list yet. Some things aren't announced, some things aren't confirmed, some things may have been forgotten. I expect coherency to come with trial and error.

2012

Publications:
"The Flower of Arizona," February 2012.
Discount Armageddon, March 2012.
"We Will Not Be Undersold!", March 2012.
Blackout (as Mira Grant), May 2012.
Ashes of Honor, September 2012.

"Rat-Catcher," middle 2012.
"Laughter at the Academy: A Study in the Development of Schizotypal Creative Genius Personality Disorder (SCGPD)," late 2012.

Travel:
Conflikt, January 27-29, Seattle WA.
Consonance, March 2-4, Newark CA.
San Diego International Comic Convention, July 11-14, San Diego CA.
Confluence, July 27-29, Pittsburgh PA.
Chicon (WorldCon 2012), August 30-September 3, Chicago IL.
World Fantasy Convention, November 1-4, Toronto.

No fixed deadline/being written/unsold:

"Fiber"
"Daughter of the Midway, the Mermaid, and the Open, Lonely Sea"
"These Antique Fables"
"Pixie Season"
"Martinez and Martinez v. Velveteen"
Sparrow Hill Road
"Velveteen vs. the Alternate Timeline, part one"
"Velveteen vs. the Alternate Timeline, part two"
"Velveteen vs. the Retroactive Continuity"
"Hell of a Ride"
"Loch and Key"
"In Sea Salt Tears"
Midnight Blue-Light Special
The Chimes at Midnight
"San Diego 2014"
"Misfit Toys: A Chronicle of the Velveteen War"
Parasitology
Echo
"How Green This Land, How Blue This Sea"

Words: 11,559.
Total words: 100,361.
Reason for stopping: I can no longer convince my eyes to focus, which means stopping time.
Music: lots of country and goth.
The cats: Lilly, in a loaf on the bed; Alice, in a loaf on the floor; Thomas, prowling around the hall.

As I work, I am slowly—very slowly, especially for me—dealing with the edits from my Machete Squad. The fact that I'm within 10,000 words of the projected end of the book means that I will soon be able to take a day and process the remaining edits, which will be nice. I really want to get the first draft out of the way, so that we can bend to the more difficult job of beating said first draft into something resembling shape.

This last month has been absolutely grueling. Since Blackout ran so far over, I have been forcing myself to make word count every day, even when I have edits to crunch, because I need those words to be on the page where they can be corrected more than I need to have the space to move at my usual pace. Once I finish draft one, things can return to something a little closer to normal. I can see some of the holes that currently exist in the book, the places where I'm going to need to build some things up and tear other things down. Now all I need to do is get there.

I need a nap. Goodnight, moon.

...for the last few days I've been afraid I might drift away.

My bags are, once again, packed to go; my 3:30am alarm has successfully pulled me from warm bed to cold reality. The cats circle like dismayed, fuzzy sharks, demanding to know what I think I'm doing. Surely I can't be thinking of leaving. Why, they would be horribly offended if I were to do something as senseless as that. And they have lots of claws, both individually and as a cumulative entity. LOTS OF CLAWS.

But I am going, because going is part of my job. Going is what enables coming back.

For the next four days, I will be at Conclave, located in scenic Romulus, Michigan. I will enjoy panels. I will sing songs. I will have a wonderful time, and yes, I will hope to see you there. All that stands between me and Michigan is a plane ride. All that stands between me and home (and the ocean of claws) is Michigan.

Here I go again.

So we survived another iteration of the Traveling Circus and Snake-Handling Show (always a risky proposition, what with all those snakes), and now it's time to get back to normal, everyday life. Naturally, for me, this means "now it's time to start packing for Michigan." Because nothing says "restful" like jetting straight off to another convention, right? Right?!

Ahem. A few snapshot statuses, for the interested and alert:

"Wicked Girls" shirts.
Yes! They have arrived! Well...mostly. It turns out the shirt shop was out of certain size/style combinations, so my order was short about fifty shirts, which will be coming along later. How are we finding out which size/style combinations are missing? By trying to pack orders and being unable to find the associated shirts. Naturally. So shipping is being a little bit odd at the moment, and I'm filling as many complete orders as I possibly can. Feel free to email the merchandise address (the Gmail.com account that contacted you for shipping and payment) if you have questions about your specific order, or need to update your address in any way.

Ashes of Honor progress.
I now have approximately 86,000 words written on Ashes of Honor, which means I'm on target to finish my first, deeply flawed draft of the book by the end of October. At which point, the flensing will begin. The flensing has already begun, on a localized level, but the deep flense requires a wider audience. I'm actually pretty happy with the shape of this book. I finally got to bring back a lot of the cast from A Local Habitation, some questions are getting answered, and Toby eats Pop-Tarts. Life is good.

Discount Armageddon approaches.
According to my planner countdown, Discount Armageddon will be released in one hundred and fifty-five days. But, you know. No pressure or anything. I am deeply excited and deeply terrified, and getting ready to rearrange things on my website to make the InCryptid section easier to find and navigate. This means the Field Guide will also be going totally live. You, too, can live in fear of the Apraxis Wasps.

Zombies.
Are love.

Albino banana slug.
ALBINO BANANA SLUG!!!!!! He's like vanilla soft serve with eyes, and I want to love him forever, even though this picture was taken a year ago and so he's probably been eaten by an owl by now. (I know slugs are hermaphrodites. I don't care. I want to name this particular slug "Geoff," and have grand adventures with him. He is my beloved squishy friend.)

HAIL FROGLORD!
This Questionable Content strip speaks to the depths of my soul.

And that's me. What's new with you?

I would like to begin by noting that this is not a post about the ethics, morals, or legalities of creating free torrent files of material which does not belong to you. I've talked about this in the past, repeatedly and at length, and while I'll doubtless talk about it again in the future, that's not today's target.

Instead, I want to talk about illegal resales.

Yesterday afternoon, some bold soul wandering the internet jungles encountered a site that looked too good to be true: a private seller offering huge numbers of ebooks, some by extremely popular authors, for two dollars each, or ten for ten. That's, like, amazing! That's incredible! And best of all, that's totally against the law! This individual told a few authors, who told a few more, who told a few more, and then the wrath of the internet came down upon that seller's head, since people don't take kindly to being stolen from. The sales page was taken down. The seller changed the name on her twitter. All done, right?

Not quite.

First, there's the matter of the seller herself. She's not going to be named, because I don't play that kind of game, but I think it's important to note that she justified her actions by saying that she was trying to make money to pay for her kidney transplant medications. This? Is a sad story. It may even be a true story. It's also the kind of thing that's sort of calculated to make people back off and not want to be the bad guy by yelling at the woman who's just trying to afford her drugs, so she doesn't die. To this I say...

I am so very, very sorry that people are ill. I hate that we live in a country without medical care for everyone. It's a huge, scary, horrible issue. But I can't sit back and let people profit off my work because they're sick. There are a lot of sick people, and sometimes, I'm one of them. If I said "oh, it's okay because you're sick," I'd wind up in a world of trouble. And Alice would be dead, since only being paid for my work enabled me to pay for her extremely expensive, extremely unexpected vet bill last year.

Second, I can almost understand people who put things up for free. Yes, they're stealing, and no, I don't condone it, but they're not trying to profit off someone else's property. They're not taking cookies out of the back of a bakery and selling them for half-price at a food truck down the street, they're giving out cookies for free. One of the big "you're over-simplifying, you're not seeing the big picture" arguments in the whole book piracy discussion is "not every download is a sale." Well, if someone is selling my books, independent of my publisher, every download is a sale, and it's a sale I'm not getting paid for.

People like getting things for less money. It's the natural way of mankind. It's why we clip coupons, shop at Ross, and wear last year's sweaters. But there's legitimate discounting, and there's stealing, and sadly, it can be hard to tell them apart.

Finally, and most troubling to me, this represents a snapshot of the biggest problem I see coming down the pike, as ebooks become a bigger and bigger percentage of the books sold: there is no ebook secondary market.

I love used bookstores. I exist because of used bookstores. In the last month, I have been to three Half-Price Books, two independent used bookstores, and a library book sale. When I was a kid, eighty percent of my books came from these places. Without the secondary market, I wouldn't have been able to read the way I did, and I would have grown up to be someone very different. I am worried about the smart, poor kids of today, and I can easily see more and more sites like this cropping up as people try to "resell" things that can't actually be resold.

I don't know that there's a solution. I'm worried, and I'm scared for what comes next. But this pirate site, at least, came down.

Please, remember that there's no secondary ebook market, and that if a price seems too good to be true, unless it's a promotion offered directly by a publisher...

...it probably isn't legit.

ETA: Please stop trying to make this a discussion about piracy. As noted above, that is not this post. We are treading old ground, and I do not have the energy or time to moderate this conversation right now.

In the interests of not giving myself something else to cry about the week before I have a book release, I am officially declaring comment amnesty on yesterday's post about the situation with the cats. Thank you all so much for your kind words and advice. Your support means worlds. But if I try to answer every comment, my head will explode, and nobody wants that.

Thanks for understanding.

First:

I have leveled up in Real Author. How do I know? I know because I actually managed to miss a publication date. Not a deadline; a publication. As in, "something got released, and I completely missed it." So! My poem, "Clockwork Chickens," was published in issue #25 of Apex Magazine, which previously published the stories "Dying With Her Cheer Pants On" and "The Tolling of Pavlov's Bells." Hooray!

You can read my poem here, for now. Apex takes down back issues in a sort of rolling pattern, so you should read soon, or better yet, buy the e-book download of the issue so that you can keep it forever and for always. Apex is a company that does good work, and they keep buying my stuff, which naturally endears them to me. I would like it if they would keep doing that. And also, I like this poem.

In other news, I am safely home from Ohio, and attempting to figure out where I left my head. I sadly suspect it may have been in the Houston airport, where I was so hungry that I ate an entire cheeseburger in approximately four bites and an inhale. I think I scared the waitress. I know I counted my fingers when I was done. Just in case. So I am tired and I am grumpy, and I am getting tired of being tired.

I am almost done packing the most recent run of poster orders, and should be getting those in the mail this week. Better yet, the lovely Deborah has finished collating all the T-shirt orders, and I am working with the printer now to get everything submitted and start the production process. We wound up with over three hundred shirts on the order. My house is going to be one hell of a shipping party.

I am also almost done with the technical revisions on Blackout, which I will be shipping off to my publisher Real Soon Now. And thus do I buy myself time to finish the other three books I need to be working on, and perhaps someday, one day, take a nap.

Onwards and upwards.

Zzz.

Having just returned home from Reno, Land of Cigarette Smoke and Strobe Lighting, I am now preparing to board a big metal skybird and soar away on wings of science to scenic Columbus, Ohio, where I will be appearing at Context as their Horror Guest of Honor. Well. Mira will, anyway, and since she doesn't have a legal photo ID, she has to let me come. Ha ha, evil twin. Ha ha.

I am, perhaps, a little less excited about the idea of taking another road trip than I could be; last night, my dreams centered almost entirely on my having forgotten to buy a plane ticket to England, and being forced to run hither and yon in an attempt to make it to the airport before I missed my flight. Parts of the dream actually took place in England, with a strong undercurrent of "if you miss your flight, you won't have been here, and the ensuing paradox will destroy the world." Because I'm not overly inclined to take responsibility for things or anything...

The cats are not entirely happy about seeing the suitcases come out again. And by "not entirely happy," I mean "they have transformed into an unstoppable feline murder squad." If I stop posting and no one knows what happened to me, the cats will have removed all the bits I use to do things other than catering to cats. I will probably deserve it. I will, after all, have left them again. (Thankfully, after this, I have no more long trips away from home until December. A few weekends, but nothing longer than that. This may be what saves my life.)

If you're in the Ohio area, Context is going to be amazing and fun, and I would really love to see you there. I fully intend to be so amped-up on sugar that I can't see my toes for at least twenty-four hours, which is always a good time, for everyone involved. And I can sleep on the plane. Which is a wonderful thing, to be sure.

Here I come, Ohio. And I am demanding frozen treats.

I am home from Reno! Finally. I think I may be half-dead, and I definitely need a lot more of a nap than I'm going to be getting in the near future. Here, then, is my extremely truncated and specialized convention report.

The Good.

* Joe's Diner! Kate, Victor, and I arrived early, and were able to wander around, running errands. This led us to discovering an awesome little diner, just far enough from the convention center to be inaccessible if you didn't have a car (and thus entirely uncrowded throughout the weekend). Cheap, delicious food, real malts, and a waitress who came to know us all by name as we returned again and again for delicious meals. Yay!

* Also during our running around, I found a hardcover copy of Hellspark, one of my favorite hard-to-find books. (Actually, Victor found it. But he is a loving Victor, and he gave it unto me.) I will love it always.

* I wound up in two hotel rooms, one shared with Kate (and connected via adjoining door to Victor), one shared with Wes, Mary, and Amy. Both rooms were awesome in different ways, and I couldn't have asked for better roommates.

* "Just A Minute," where I not only became the new champion, I got to do it while hanging out with awesome people (including two of my favorite people, Paul and Caroline). Betcha John regrets telling me that lists were legal...

* Lauren Beukes's sloth! I nearly stole that thing. I still want to.

* Delivering an impassioned verbal smackdown during the zombie panel.

* Interviewing Tricky Pixie, Bill Wellingham, and this year's COMPLETELY AWESOME Campbell nominees. All on different panels, but still. I could not have shared a stage with more delightful people.

* Kaja hugs.

* Having a signing line longer than George R.R. Martin. It was bizarre and confusing, and totally fantastic.

* Brunch with Daniel and Kelly.

* Breakfast with Sheila.

* Surprise DDR with Kate and Vixy and Lauren and Amy.

* Dinner with Mike and Marnie and the posse, during which I received my official Barfleet tags. They're orange and green! I am truly loved.

...honestly, there were a lot of amazing people at WorldCon this year, but if I try to list them all, someone will be left off, because I am exhausted, and then we will all be sad. So please believe that I love all my friends, and I am so excited to have seen them, and I would not have survived this convention without them. Seriously. I would be dead.

The Bad.

* The one day when I didn't have, basically, a team of people handling me, I was unable to get any food for eleven hours, was repeatedly grabbed by people I don't know, and was even followed into the bathroom stall. Not the bathroom. THE ACTUAL STALL. Needless to say, I was not left alone again, resulting in my friends feeling put-upon, my feeling like I had to hide in my hotel room to have any privacy, and everyone being tense. Being grabbed is bad. It scares me.

* Smoking is allowed indoors in Reno. We were in Reno. I am not as sensitive to smoke as some of my friends, but I still feel pretty lousy, even after being home for almost two full days.

* The convention center was almost a mile away from my hotel, resulting in lots of walking back and forth in the extreme heat. Also, if I managed to forget something at the room, it stayed gone until I went home in the afternoon. This decentralized layout prevented a single Barcon from coalescing, and I am hence still faintly sad.

* The decentralized layout also meant that I saw some people I really care about rarely, if at all. Kate put it best when she noted that if you weren't part of the amoeba, we barely saw you.

* Finding things was almost impossible. I didn't even figure out where open filk was until Friday night, when I was doing "Whose Line?" across from it (an 11pm to 1am panel, so no, I didn't join the circle afterward). I made it to the dealer's hall twice, both times for under twenty minutes.

The Unhappy.

So. The Hugos. That happened.

You're not supposed to talk about being sad that you lost; it's considered poor form. Unfortunately, in this internet age, it's impossible to avoid addressing it at least a little if you have any sort of decent web presence. Not only is it obvious that you're avoiding an elephant, people keep hijacking other posts and other threads to tell you how sorry they are. That's worse for my sanity than having a few people sigh meaningfully at me, so I'm going to talk about this once, and have done.

Yes, I lost.

Yes, I am very sad about that. I wanted to win. Everybody wants to win. Wanting to win is human nature, and if you don't want to win, you decline the nomination. End of story.

Yes, I am aware that I lost by a very narrow margin. This doesn't make it easier. If anything, it makes it harder; what could I have done to make my book just twenty votes better? Rationally, I know this isn't a quantifiable thing, but, well. Me and numbers. It's a thing.

Yes, I hope that I get another shot next year.

No, I will not be responding to comments directly relating to the Hugos. I hope you understand why not. Congratulations to all the winners, and huge, huge thanks to everyone who voted. I came in second. I beat Bujold in the voting. That's a damn big deal. Maybe next time, we can win.

That was WorldCon, and now it's not. See you next year, in Chicago.

My house was broken into yesterday.

I had managed to leave my house keys on the floor next to my bed when I left for work, so I called my mother and arranged for her to pick me up from the train station. The Great Pumpkin was looking out for me; if she hadn't given me a ride, I would have come home alone, less than twenty minutes after I did.

When we reached the house, we saw a razor scooter parked next to the trash cans. "Huh," I said. "I wonder what that's doing there?" But we dismissed it as having been left by one of the neighborhood kids, and kept going.

There was a large Aaron Brothers bag, and a backpack, in the front yard. "That's weird," I said. But we decided it probably belonged to my little sister, who will sometimes put things in odd places while she does other stuff, and we kept going.

Inside, the cats were in a state of high dudgeon—even moreso than normal for a weekday afternoon—and appeared to have expressed their unhappiness by knocking a bunch of stuff over. Mom scolded them amiably while I started for the fridge to get a soda, and saw that Alex's bedroom door was open. His room is one of the only places in the house the cats aren't allowed. I thought "wow, lots of mischief," and went to close it...

...only to find that his bedside table had been cleared onto the bed. And the door to the laundry room was open. And the door connecting the laundry room to the back was open. And the DVD player was gone.

Cue freaking right the fuck out.

Mom searched the house while I got the stuff out of the front yard. The bags proved to contain everything that was missing: the DVD player, Alex's computer (mine was untouched), a bunch of small electronics, a few DVDs. (Ironically, our thief only took Firefly-related material. So we're looking for an asshole Browncoat. Nice!) The Aaron Brothers bag was mine, which explains why my pictures were scattered all over the floor.

After a heart-stopping moment of not being able to find Lilly, we got ourselves calmed mostly down, and Mom went to the hardware store to get new locks while I called the police. An officer came out and took my statement; we walked the perimeter, and found that the hide-a-key (which I didn't know existed until I called Alex) was missing. So that's probably how they got inside.

We think we came home and surprised the thief in the process of going back in for another load. That's why we found all their stuff (and the scooter). Had I come home alone, they would probably have still been there. And I would have walked in on them, without a car to warn that I was coming.

Alex got home and confirmed that all his stuff was there. Mom changed the locks. Victor and Lara came and took me for dinner. The cats got fussed over. And I took a machete to bed.

So...

1. Nothing is missing.
2. In fact, net gain: I have the thief's scooter.
3. We think it was a teenage boy, based on the scooter, the things grabbed, and the fact that none of my girly things were touched.
4. Alex is working from home today, so the house is not empty.
5. The cats are fine.
6. I will be sleeping with a machete for the foreseeable future.

It's an ignite the biosphere kind of day.

I'm tired.

I don't mean "Seanan needs a nap." I mean "crying at the slightest provocation, reciting primes to keep myself motivated to finish taking a shower, ready to curl up in a ball and die." So please. I am begging you here. I mean literally, I'm begging. Please...

...don't email me and then get angry when you don't get an instantaneous reply.

...don't ask why you can't have the next book NOW RIGHT NOW. I mean, unless your goal is seeing me cry. In that case, knock yourself out.

...don't tell me I'm neglecting my friends/social life/sanity when I don't come to your party. You know what? I know I'm neglecting those things. You know what else? I don't have a choice right now. I'm sorry. I wish I did. But I don't.

I am out of go. My candle is burning at both ends, and starting to melt in the middle. So handle me gently, do not prod me with sticks, and do not tell me I need to "take time for me." If the time existed, I would take it. It doesn't exist for me to take.

I'm tired.

In the interests of not turning a PSA into another source of stress, I will not be answering comments on this entry. Thank you for understanding.

I am currently trying to transform my place of residence from a welter of stuff* into something halfway functional. I have a lot of motivation. I not only want to have a viable idea of what I have, thus telling me what I need to acquire if I want to finish various collections, I want to get rid of things that I don't really want. That way, I can pack with more assurance. Every move is focused on that sweet eventual goal: Seattle. I want to get out of the Bay Area, and after co-habitation with The Housemate for over a decade, my extraction has to be slow and careful, lest we wind up going to war over who owns that battered old paperback book.**

Some of the de-cluttering efforts are obvious. For example, I am putting books in boxes, indexing their contents, and putting the boxes in a big stack of boxes (also filled with books). I am putting things I have no emotional attachment to/desire to keep in other boxes, and sending them away on a regular basis. I am freely giving things to strangers. Other efforts are less obvious. I bought two new cat trees, because cats knock stuff over, thus creating more mess than they will when given places of their own. I've been saving boxes, which makes more mess, at least until the boxes are filled and put away. And so on.

My brain is no tidier. In trying to clean up my link list, I found things that have literally been waiting for their shining moment for up to two years. Will I ever really get around to some of these? No. No, I will not. That makes me sad, but I'd like to see the floor in my rotating "to do" file someday, just like I'd like to see it in my kitchen, and so away they go. Farewell, sweet links. I hardly knew ye.

Still. Once, Feed was a best-selling title in an Australian bookstore. I was nominated for a Romantic Times award. Apex put out an anthology with my wacky Fighting Pumpkins alien invasion story in it. And I needed to take a nap.

I will probably do some really random review posts in the next few days, just to clear out some links that have waited long past their best-by date. This has never been a judgment on those reviews in specific; it's just how out of control the file has gotten. I need a maid to go with that nap, I swear.

Anybody want to come over and help me index stuff?

(*Let's be clear here: most of it is good stuff. That's why it's there. But not all of it is good stuff. Some of it is bad stuff. Some of it is the kind of stuff that seemed like good stuff six years ago, when I was a different person, or when I really thought that someday I, too, would be a world-class guitarist. And some of it, sad to say, is crap.)

(**If you don't think this is something worth going to war over, you're either not a bibliophile or have never had someone try to take one of your best-beloved books away from you. Not being in the mood to start global thermonuclear destruction, I am doing my best to avoid this.)

Item the first: remember that I currently have a random-number giveaway for Deadline and some swag gathering entries. I'll be picking my three winners tomorrow. For details on how to enter and what you can potentially win, please see the post I've linked above. Go ahead. I can wait.

Item the second: this has literally been sitting in my link soup for a year, waiting for me to find something that makes it topical. As I have failed, I am now providing the link in isolation, because it amuses me. Moshez comments on zombies and weapons, and why my Horror Survival FAQ is sometimes sub-optimal. Join me in giggling.

Item the third: while I'm linking to random crap that makes me smile, here. Have the Animal Review review of the deep sea anglerfish. They give the anglerfish an overall F for being horrifying and upsetting and not really very friendly at all. Amusingly enough, these are all the reasons I give the anglerfish an overall A. For AWESOME.

Item the fourth: I can't remember if I ever actually linked to these, despite their being, you know, mad awesome, so here. Have a link to some absolutely gorgeous icons that were made using lyrics from my latest album, Wicked Girls. The icons, which are by snowishness, cannot help but make me happy, and so I am sharing them with you.

Item the fifth: Megan Lara's art is pure hammered awesome.

Item the sixth: I managed to find the Dead Tired Frankie Stein doll last night, which means a) I now have all the individual Dead Tired dolls except for Cleo De Nile, who I'm hoping to find this weekend, b) everyone at my local Toys R Us knows me on sight, and c) I am a total nerd. I am, thus far, a total nerd who has managed to resist the lure of the ball-jointed Soom doll, however, so I'm calling this a win for me, even as I call it a loss for my shelf space.

Item the seventh: I am so tired it physically hurts. I have to sleep tonight, or I'm just going to dissolve off my own bones like an overcooked chicken or one of those airline passengers in the first episode of Fringe. I didn't sleep at all on Tuesday night, and last night was our first really hot night of the summer, so the cats kept waking me up to freak out. Please play nicely today, as I may start to tremble and cry otherwise.

What's news with you?

1. I am basically over The Death Plague From Hell at this point, but I remain exhausted and behind on damn near everything. I'm catching up as fast as I can, but with 500+ LJ comments and nearly as many emails to go through, I'm having to do a lot more "is this actually urgent?" triage than I like. Please be patient, and don't yell at me if two whole days go by without my getting back to you.

2. While I'm asking for favors...please don't link me to Goodreads or Amazon reviews. I really and truly try to avoid reviews on those sites, because they just make me sad and twitchy. (Yes, there are excellent, erudite, well-composed reviews in both places. But the number of mean or thoughtless reviews is very high, and frankly, I don't have the energy to filter through them looking for the good stuff.)

3. If you missed the Deadline book release, or if Toby is more your cup of tea, remember that I will be back at Borderlands Books this coming Saturday, appearing alongside the fabulous Ben Macallan (aka Chaz Brenchley). He's asked me to join him so he'll have a partner for cards if no one shows up. Let's surprise him by having EVERYONE show up. I'll be reading from my new Tybalt prequel story, and there may be some awesome unexpected giveaways...

4. Everyone on the Wicked Girls shirt spreadsheet should have received their initial emails at this point. If you don't have one, please check your spam filter, as the email from Deborah (coming from a Gmail.com address) is somehow not getting to you. If you think I may have the wrong address for you, please let me know ASAP.

5. My house is an absolute disaster zone, and I'm going to need help cleaning out the closets soon. If you're local, not allergic to cats, and think spending a day going through the things I have shoved into my shelves would be fun, drop me a line. This is less "cleaning" and more "de-cluttering, purging, and organizing," which means it's less physical labor, more Tetris for the live-action set.

...so in short, please be patient, and I will try to deal with all emergencies in the order in which they were received.

If I were a My Little Pony, I would be Sparkle Plague.
If I were a Care Bear, I would be Hacks-A-Lot.
If I were a Strawberry Shortcakelander, I would be Nightshade Muffin.
If I were a sign of the apocalypse, I would be Crippling Cough.

So I apologize, internet, but I am going back to bed. Also, I will not be answering comments on this post, because oh gods too sick to die.

...also, mixing my metaphors a bit, but still, I think the statement is valid. I am running as fast as I can just to stay where I am, and while it's fascinating, it's also a bit terrifying. I am trying to do ALL THE THINGS! All the things AT THE SAME TIME! Eventually, I will spontaneously combust, and that will be funny. (Also, how is it my spellcheck knows the word "necrosis," but not the word "combust"? Oh. Wait. It's my spellcheck.)

And now, for the periodic administrative stuff.

Wicked Girls T-shirts.
Deborah is continuing to contact people, collect mailing information, and provide payment information. This is because Deborah is wonderful. If you haven't heard from her, you may be in the part of the spreadsheet she hasn't processed yet, or you may need to check your spam filter, as there are people who have been contacted who have not yet replied. Once we finish going through the spreadsheet and shaking it as hard as we can for stragglers, we will need to go to print, and any unpaid orders will be canceled. We're only printing as many shirts as have been paid for. So check your spam filter today!

Events.
I have, like, ALL THE EVENTS coming up in June and July. Seriously. Next Saturday is the big Deadline release party at Borderlands. The Saturday after, I'll be at Borderlands again, this time as Seanan instead of Mira, to do a joint event with my darling Chaz in his guise as Daniel Fox. Then it's off to Minnesota for Convergence (and Izzy's ice cream), followed by appearing at SF in SF as Mira, and finally, San Diego! My annual pilgrimage to Geek Prom is upon us, and this year I get my Amy AND my Vixy AND a convention-exclusive Monster High doll. Truly, the world is my mollusk.

Anyway, check my website for event details, and remember that even if you can't make any of these events in person, Borderlands takes internet and phone orders for signed and personalized books. They're pretty awesome that way.

Deadline.
Holy cheese, it's a book. Like, on shelves. And people are buying it, and people are reading it, and people are liking it so far. Please, if you've bought it and read it and want to talk about it, stick to the Deadline open thread? I don't want people to be afraid to read comments on other posts because there might be lurking spoilers. Thank you so much, to everyone, for everything. You've been totally amazing.

Cats.
Blue. Fluffy. Pissed off over my recent absence, and demanding I make it up to them with snuggles and scritches. I am surprisingly unbothered by their demands, and have given in wholeheartedly.

X-Men: First Class.
Opens this weekend, and anyone standing between me and the ticket booth come Saturday had better be ready for some Xavier's alumni whup-ass to be aimed their way. I need my mutants. They're an important part of a balanced breakfast. Also, the reviews have been amazing so far, which means that maybe this will be a new franchise, instead of a prequel. Look, a girl can dream, okay?

Monster High.
I WANT THE NEW DOLLS ALREADY.

...and that's it for me, for the moment. What've you got?

I am preparing for the grand summer road trip. Home to San Francisco; San Francisco to Manhattan; Manhattan to Milwaukee; Milwaukee to La Crosse; La Cross to Madison; Madison to Chicago; and then home again, home again, jiggety jig. I am very ready to be gone. I am absolutely not ready to be gone. Before I see my home and bed and cats again, I will visit both my publishers, attend my first BEA, visit a high school that's very excited to see me, and attend my first Wiscon. I will see and hug and adore my Merav and my Diana and my Cat—so many hugs. I will do great things and struggle to keep up with my word count, and whether I succeed or not, I will need a nap before I'm done.

I'm nervous. I admit that. And this is all part of the deal, this is part of the promise you make at the crossroads when you sell your fantasies for your dreams. This is part of what it takes to have what I have always said I wanted...and I was right, and I am not sorry. But sometimes I get tired, and I want to stay home with my cats and my books and my dolls.

I want to write full time. I want to live in a little house in Seattle full of cat trees and more books and too many toys, and I want to paint the walls orange without worrying about my housemates not wanting to live inside a pumpkin. And wanting these things means packing my bags and hitting the road again, because life feeds art feeds life.

But sometimes I get tired.

I hope I will see you if you're in New York, or Wisconsin, and if not, I hope I will see you some other time, when I come to wherever you are. I'm always glad to see people, and you can smell my dirt-based perfume and get shown pictures of my cats (conveniently stored in my phone). And this will be a wonderful adventure, because they always are.

I can't wait to get started. I can't wait to come home.

I love the crossroads prayer that is my life.

1. It is now twenty-one days to Deadline. I am scrambling to catch up on "Countdown" (the series of little in-universe snapshots has a name!), and writing ahead so as not to get caught flat-footed by my next convention adventure. I'm not certain I'll have internet while at Wiscon, so the last few pieces may be posted a little late, but they will be posted.

2. The cats responded to my going to Leprecon by magically acquiring giant felted mats which should have taken them well over a week to create. Last night's brushing adventure was a lot of fun for everyone involved, let me tell you what. Also, ow. Also, I am so saying "screw this noise" when I get home from BEA/Wiscon, and just taking the pair of them straight to the professional groomer for trimming and mat removal. I am not going through that again if I don't have to.

3. My whole house is clean! Why is my whole house clean? Because my mother is awesome! Why is my mother awesome? Because she cleaned my house! The first rule of tautology club is the first rule of tautology club.

4. I get a Cat this weekend! Cat Valente is using my house as her base of operations during the San Francisco Bay Area branch of her tour for The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making. She'll be at our best-beloved Borderlands Books this Saturday; there will be cupcakes, and carousing, and all the usual wonderful things. You should totally come.

5. There will be another, probably photo-heavy post about this later, but...I got an Evangeline Ghastly doll! More precisely, I got two; the one I bought, and one that mysteriously appeared on my doorstep in a big-ass box from Wilde Imagination. My squealing, it was vast. Of course, now I have entered the dark realm of the ball-jointed doll, from which there is no returning. Which leads us to...

6. I am allowed to do one fiscally silly thing every time I do certain things, career-wise. As I have done a certain thing (more on this later), I get to be silly, and I've decided that this time, for silly, I want a resin Evangeline doll. They fit more of the clothes, and can wear all the shoes. Specifically, I want the Cemetery Wedding Evangeline, since she has the best face. If you know anyone who might be selling part of a doll collection, please let me know?

7. The new season of Doctor Who continues to delight me.

8. I have finished the Tybalt short! "Rat-Catcher" is 10,000 words long, and has been officially submitted to the market it was written for. If they buy it, I'll announce when and where it will be appearing. If they don't, I'll start looking for something else to do with a story full of Cait Sidhe. Whatever I do, it will probably need to involve gooshy food.

9. Zombies are love.

10. I am hammered enough right now that my response time is slow, and the amnesty on replying to comments on the "Countdown" posts endures. I'll still answer comments on all other posts; it may just take me a little while. Thank you for being understanding.

Okay, so. A few things...

1. I am still assembling the T-shirt spreadsheet. I had intended to finish last night, but then my home internet decided to emulate the mighty banana slug and travel at a speed of approximately three miles per hour, making navigating LJ borderline impossible. So if you haven't heard back from me, you do not yet need to worry. I will post one more time when the spreadsheet is done, saying "if you haven't heard back from me, worry." But if you followed the instructions (name, size, color, email address on the original post) or contacted me and asked politely for an exception, you should be fine.

2. I just found out that apparently, my drummer on Wicked Girls was never paid. I thought he'd been paid out of the money I gave my producer, but no, that all went to mixing. Given the math of albums, this is totally believable, but marginally, you know, inconvenient. So if you don't yet have a copy of Wicked Girls, or wanted to get one for a friend, now would be an awesome time to do so, as I now have an unexpected recording-related bill to pay.

3. I have a convention this weekend, and word counts to make, and I'm trying to post a piece of Newsflesh-related short fiction every day during the countdown to Deadline. So in the interests of maintaining my own sanity, I'm declaring amnesty from my normal "answer all comments" blog policy where those posts are concerned. I'll try to answer direct questions and the like, but I won't answer every expression of "yay, more story." I'll read and appreciate them all, I just need to use my time in other ways right this second. :)

4. My phone is dead. Not just a little dead; dead-dead, the great death from which there is no returning. So I'm a little grumpy, and only accessible via electronic channels right now. Some of which don't work from home, where the internet is toast. Did I mention that this was the best week ever?

5. There is no number five. I just didn't want to end the list on an even number.

I try to remain as accessible as possible, because it seems polite, and because I genuinely like hearing what people think. There is, however, only one of me, and that means it's time for a few notes.

1) My response time is generally measured in weeks, not hours. Sometimes it's measured in days, and those are the scary times, because those are the times when I have somehow managed to make my inbox disappear. Fire may have been involved. I try to answer time-sensitive things first, and sometimes I succeed. If you email me three times in three days, going "WHY HAVEN'T YOU ANSWERED ME YET?!" the answer will change from "Because I was busy" to "Because I have started deleting your email for fun."

2) Okay, so everyone is afraid of spammers and having their email address harvested. I get that, I really do. But I don't have a mailing list, I don't automatically subscribe you to my newsletter when I get an actual email address in my hands, and I don't have the magical capability to beam my response to your thoughtful and impassioned email directly into your brain. Honestly, I don't! I know, that was a shocker to me, too. So when you intentionally withhold part of your email address from my "contact us" form in order to keep it safe, you also keep yourself safe from my ever answering you. And if I notice the missing address after composing a thoughtful and impassioned email of my own, you have annoyed me deeply. Which makes me sad, because I hate to be annoyed.

3) Mira Grant and I have our own inboxes. I check them both, since I'm both people, but email submitted through her website goes to a different place. One which I check less often. If you actually have something time-sensitive, it's best to send it through my main website, just for the sake of hearing back before the sun turns cold.

And those are your memos for the morning.

So, um, hey.

Basically, I spent the last weekend at Wondercon, starting every morning when the van came to collect me from my house (door-to-door service!), and ending every night when I collapsed into bed, too tired to think about anything more complicated than convincing the cats to let me have half of the pillow. I had a fabulous time—I always have a fabulous time at Wondercon—but this has left me somewhat behind on silly little things like "keeping up with my blog."

Things I did this weekend:

* Gave a copy of Feed to James Gunn (and did not pass out immediately afterward, although I did feel rather dramatically ill).
* Hung out a great deal with Kaja Foglio, and introduced her to Valencia Street.
* Took Amy Mebberson and her husband, Scott, to Borderlands Books, where they could meet Ash. Ash was incredibly affectionate (especially for her), and provided them with their first real life Sphynx encounter. Jude was charming and gracious, as always, which was especially impressive when you consider that she was also feeling under the weather and suddenly beset by people demanding access to her cat.
* Bought way too many of Amy's fun-size art cards. I have a Rapunzel/Emma Frost mash-up!
* Chatted with Carla Speed McNeil, and Layn, whom I hadn't seen in way too long.
* Donated prizes to the California Browncoats, which they gave away as part of their charity chopstick pull for Equality Now. (I also discussed the Rising, and the fact that, during the outbreak at SDCC, the Browncoats were probably one of two fannish groups that managed to survive without major casualties. May have been the losing side. It's still the one that gets you home alive.)
* Attended the Doctor Who panel, and got an awesome new shirt courtesy of BBCA!

Things I did yesterday:

* Answered lots of email.
* Bought lots of plane tickets.
* Wrote lots of words on Blackout and "Velveteen vs. the Secret Identity."
* Watched Being Human after my orgy of productivity caused me to collapse.

Things I will do today:

* Answer lots of email.
* Buy lots of plane tickets.
* Write lots of words on Blackout and "Velveteen vs. the Secret Identity."
* Prep lots of mailing.
* Start working on my taxes (shudder).

So that's what's consumed my world and time for these last four largely silent days. What's new and strange with all of you?