The stuffing is in the fridge, the pies are cooling in the chilly part of our apartment [1], and my brilliant “starfruit only” strategy failed to win the “Last Stand” minigame in PLANTS VS. ZOMBIES.
Damn, I need to get to bed.
For everyone out there celebrating Thanksgiving in the morning, may you have a joyful one, and may you have twice as much to be thankful for next year.
[1]Which part of our apartment is the chilly part? The inside.
The turkey is in the brine as of 6 am this morning, along with plenty of ice. The pork roast has been ground and mixed with spices for the sausage stuffing. The cranberry sauce is finished (with extra sugar this year to appeal to the boy–but not too much extra). I probably should have made the sweet potato pie last night, but the fridge had an awful lot of turkey in there and I was worried about the space. At least the dough for the crust is ready.
I’ll do today’s writing at lunch, then tonight I’ll make the pie and the stuffing. That leaves very little for tomorrow: taters, glazed onions, and whatever else I’m forgetting. My wife isn’t keen on dinner rolls, mainly because they take a lot of time, but we have the stand mixer now, and jeez, they make great sandwiches, so maybe I’ll toss those in the oven.
I have a lot of things to be thankful for this year, and maybe tomorrow I’ll make a full accounting. Today I’m just grateful that I seem to have stopped checking my Amazon.com sales ranking every 45 minutes.
It’s still early in the week, so I’m not online very much. I do want to say this, since I’m prepping for Turkey Day.
I will be brining my turkey, a la Alton Brown. I will also be baking an AB sweet potato pie. However, I don’t care what he says, stuffing is NOT evil.
Yeah, it adds cooking time, but I run potato skewers through it to bring heat to the inside of the bird. The slightly damp stuffing gives off steam that helps cook the bird from the inside.
Evil? I think not.
I’m itching to be finished with Man Bites World, but things keep getting in the way. Today it was an old lady at Starbucks who said: “Can I ask you a question, please?” and when I said yes, started on a string of inquiries about my Mac Book, PCs, viruses, wireless, etc. etc. She was a sweet lady, but a little odd. Her voice reminded me of the sound a balloon makes when you stretch the opening tight and let air out a bit at a time. By the time she left, I’d completely lost my train of thought and had to pack up anyway.
The day before I had computer troubles. The day before *that* I missed my morning work time and, while trying to do a quick lunch hour session at the back table, was joined by the biggest extrovert in the office. He just couldn’t bear to sit quietly reading a book while I was there to talk to.
And I’ve learned that it just doesn’t pay to tell people to shove off, especially at day job.
Tomorrow I hope to have a lot more quiet and be much more productive.
Actually, let me pause a moment before I shift gears. My anniversary was nice. My wife loved the flowers I brought her and I loved the dinner she prepared (little steaks with sauteed mushrooms, noodles, and bleu cheese salad).
I also went to bed early (actually, I was *sent* to bed) and got a decent night sleep.
*Now* I’ll shift gears:
What are your three favorite movies about ghosts? Or just list three that you really love. Or one. Ghost movies, please.
I realize this is a touchy subject, but this is my blog and sometimes I’m an annoying person.
Occasionally, I’m embarrassed by my genre.
It came up at Cherie Priest’s Boneshaker party[1] while I was talking with Mark Henry. I told him that I didn’t have a good elevator pitch for Child of Fire in part because I’m a little embarrassed to describe it.
He turned his face away from me as though he didn’t want to look at me right then, and I didn’t blame him. I understand people have strong feelings about this and the urge to do a little armchair psychoanalysis can be strong. But I’ll tell you: Writing fantasy is my life’s work and I work really fucking hard. I aspire to create art and entertainment both. In no way would I accept the idea that my love of the genre and my dedication to it is less than serious.
But at the same time I recognize that the genre is pretty damn frivolous. Vampire romances. Supernatural compulsions. Little gremlins with littler swords. Suburban werewolves. Superhero-like wizards. Hell: Superheroes.
I like to describe my work by the tone and the genre (“noirish contemporary fantasy”) not by the character or plot elements. Do I want to explain to my non-genre co-worker that my book is about an ex-car thief turned sorcerer’s helper who has an enchanted sheet of paper in his pocket? Or that they’re supernatural vigilantes?
Hell no. Stripped of the context of the actual story, that sounds deeply dorky. However, I’m more than happy to have them read the book. If I could get people to read the book–or even try the sample chapter–without any further description, I’d be damn happy. Because within the context of the story, those supernatural elements carry weight. They matter, in a way they will never matter during an elevator pitch.
I realize there is a long history of genre writers using pen names because they didn’t want their writing associated with their real lives. I remember well that Marion Zimmer Bradley hated pen names because she thought it evidence that writers were ashamed of their work.
Well I say Carpe humiliatum[2]. Seize the shame. Magic amulets are deeply dorky and utterly non-serious in the real world. Personally, I think recognizing–and addressing–this tension between real-life frivolity and in-story seriousness is a strength of mine.
Okay. I have to go to the dentist now. I’m hoping to have happy foreign rights news for CoF soon. Cross your fingers for me.
[1] Something else from the party that surprised me: Cherie mentioned that the book was printed in brown ink, and I thought: “What? Really?” Sure enough, I’d read nearly 200 pages of squinty text without even noticing they were in color. Would I need someone to tell me the seat of my pants was on fire, too?
[2] You know I’m serious when I break out the pretend Latin. Besides, it’s been 30 years since I took a Latin class; I couldn’t work out the correct form of verecundia for cash money.
I have lived in Seattle for 20 years.
No, I’m not talking about my wedding anniversary, although that comes in less than a week. My wedding day is less important than the day my wife and I moved in together. (She still gets a present and a nice card, of course.)
Tomorrow is November 13th and Monday is the 16th. Those two dates represent the day I left Philadelphia (by train) and the day I arrived in Seattle. It’s been twenty years.
I’m trying to think of a way to celebrate. The first thing that comes to mind, obviously, is Philly Cheesesteaks, not that I can find the right rolls, and who’ll cut the chip steak for me? Growing up, there were corner delis within walking distance of my house where I could pick up a pound and a half in 30 minutes. Here we have a supermarket butcher, but I’ve never even spoken to those people.
The event must be marked somehow, but I’m not sure how. As for Monday, I figure I’ll make salmon for dinner and stand out in the rain a while.
A party of sorts, at least. Tonight after work I’ll be heading to 15th Ave Coffee and Tea for Cherie Priest’s BONESHAKER party. Details! I won’t know anyone there, which is usually a red flag for Socialization Fail, but who knows? Maybe this time my internal (conversation) editor will be a mere whisper.
If you live in the Seattle area and like steampunk/zombie/Seattle-apocalypse books, come buy a book and give me a hello. I look like this.
In other news, progress on Man Bites World continues. I really like this book, but this has to be the most ragged first draft I’ve written since well, my previous book. It has a small(er) cast of characters (which will be a huge relief to my agent and editor, I’m sure) and the story is more personal. All good. I just need to freaking finish it and get it out of my life.
First of all, thank you, everyone, for the kind words on yesterday’s post. I couldn’t be more thrilled about making Publishers Weekly’s Best of 2009 list. And thank you also to everyone who posted and tweeted about it to spread the word.
I sent an email to KUOW, our local NPR station, to let them know that two Seattle locals were on the list for sf/f books, but I’m sure nothing will come of that. Later, I’ll email a couple of reviewers to let them know, too, in case they want to include that in the interviews/reviews/whatever.
Then I’m going to stop thinking about it. No, really, I am. Man Bites World needs my attention, and I’m working on a tricky bit at the moment.
Second thing: Del Rey has posted the first chapter of Child of Fire on Scribd. This is nicer version than the one on my website, since it includes the cover art and the pages look just the way they do in the physical book. All that book design-y goodness.
Finally, a question (my Google Fu is weak): There’s a certain type of belt I need to write about, but I can’t find the name of it online. I can find pictures, but not the actual name (and I’m pretty sure the answer isn’t “bomber belt.” Any help would be greatly appreciated.