Yeah. Been out of touch. Got busy. It’s a good thing.

So a few weeks ago I lost my little best friend, TJ Cat. More on that later; he went quickly and peacefully.

I decided quickly to get a new cat as soon as practicable. Losing TJ [...]]]> Somebody just joined up!

Say hello to my little friend*.

Yeah. Been out of touch. Got busy. It’s a good thing.

So a few weeks ago I lost my little best friend, TJ Cat. More on that later; he went quickly and peacefully.

I decided quickly to get a new cat as soon as practicable. Losing TJ left a big whole in my life. So much more or Squeak, who’d never been parted from him (except for possibly an overnight vet stay or two) since we adopted her … 17 years ago. And indeed, she’s been acting kind of depressed since.

So my friend Miguel Jaime has a girlfriend named Leesa Cabrera, who in turn had a new litter of kittens. Two weeks ago, when they were six weeks old, I took Squeak over to try introducing to the two candidates, a pair of little boys. Both of whom were powerfully cute.

But one in particular took a shine to me. Oddly, it wasn’t the one I initially got entranced with from the pictures Miguel sent me. But my concern – hope – was to find one drawn to me. And this one, whose placeholder name was Mr. Molly**, definitely was.

When he was presented to Squeak, she hissed at him, he hissed back, he tried approaching her, she bapped him on the head, he backed off but did not back down. Then Squeak decided screw this and ran off to sulk, and eventually sleep, behind Leesa’s hutch.

So, that went well.

Seriously. That’s pretty much how cats introduce themselves, usually. And as cranky as Squeak is – plus the additional stress of dragging her to a new place in the pet carrier – it was a good outcome.

Anyway, they told me he’d been ready to be picked up in two weeks.  I sent a message to Miguel today. He quickly replied that the kittens were ready, and so we set it up.

(This was after I lost my damn cell phone – again – searched all over the Los Poblanos Open Space, didn’t find it, then came home to find via a Facebook message from my friend Aaron Birenboim that it had been found. By a dude at the Rio Grande Community Garden. At Los Poblanos Open Space. And I still don’t have the damned thing back.)

So I went and got him. We put him in the carrier, so his mom, Molly – Leesa called him Mr. Molly because he looks like her – could say goodbye. She’s tiny, by the way, sweet looking kitty. Anyway, she did.

Meanwhile, he started to complain. Which he did, of course, all the way home. I thought it was a good sign that he sounded only a little piteous, and a lot more pissed.

As I was unlocking the front door t struck me for the first time that nothing I had done, or likely could do, had remotely prepared him to meet Emma Dog. And so it proved.

I let them see each other with the kit still in the carrier. Emma was no problem. I never expected she would be. She likes cats. She likes baby things. So, cool.

Kitty sounded dubious. He hissed at Emma through the door, and growled at her. I brought him out. He freaked and thrashed around, hissing furiously, swiping at Emma, and naturally nailing me.

Then he calmed down enough. I cuddled him while she sniffed his butt. Which was mainly what she wanted.

He will take a while to adjust to Emma; I literally don’t think he’s ever seen anything like her. But I’m sure he will. He’s a plucky little shit.

I put him on the bed. Emma was still very interested. Fortunately, she was fine with going outside. Again, my concern was not to stress the newbie too much.

Squeak finally got a good luck at him – and, predictably, was not happy. She growled at him and tried to run away. I picked her up and she hissed me roundly for bringing a monster into her home. Of course.

He seems unfazed by her.

So, we are settling in. He’s perched above my left shoulder – in fact, just lay down – on the back of my American Tolkien recliner. Squeak came by earlier and sniffed my finger and let me stroke her muzzle while the Devil Spawn from Hell was on my lap. A couple minutes ago she strolled by and hissed at him; it seemed pretty perfunctory.

The big thing? I notice she wasn’t too stressed to eat most of her evening snack. Which I take for a definitely hopeful sign.

And I am tired as Hell and winding down Haven’t even had dinner. So I best wrap this up and get to that.

But first: of course there are Baby Pictures. Here or hit the image above.

More soon. Really.

Update, 5/6/2013: There’s been some problem with the URL for this post. Let’s see if updating the page helps?

*Apologies for the messed-up format on the caption. Apparently WordPress has decided to improve their Insert Media processs again. And by “improve,” I mean “fuck up, and make it hard to figure out how to fix.”

**He will not stay named that. I’m probably just going to call him “Sparky” until I figure out what his real name is.

Brazil is a land of many natural wonders.

Hot off the presses, and George RR Martin His Ownself, bearer of the news, just sent the all-clear to announce it:  GRRM just sold the Brazilian-Portuguese-language rights to the whole damn Wild Cards series to his Brazilian publisher, Grupo LeYa, for a [...]]]> And, well, the rest of Brazil!

Brazil is a land of many natural wonders.

Hot off the presses, and George RR Martin His Ownself, bearer of the news, just sent the all-clear to announce it:  GRRM just sold the Brazilian-Portuguese-language rights to the whole damn Wild Cards series to his Brazilian publisher, Grupo LeYa, for a nifty chunk of change.

This is big, kids. That’s a huge market right there, even if it speaks the Latin American language nobody ever thinks about. And The George’s books do, his words, “very, very well in Brazil.”

As well they ought, since according to his Chief Minion, Ty Franck, who is one-half of James S. A. Corey and Mr. Jayné Franck (the lucky if undeniably charismatic dog), That American Tolkien Guy is a “literary god in the Iberian Peninsula.”

So – yay! The Wild Cards Global Victory Tour continues!  Viva o Brasil!

All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.(Click the image! Click it!)

Have I mentioned how cool I think it is that birds are now considered to be dinosaurs? Two of the things I loved most as a kid turn out to be the same thing! Más [...]]]> And by “dinosaurs,” I mean, “geese and cranes.”

All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.
(Click the image! Click it!)

Have I mentioned how cool I think it is that birds are now considered to be dinosaurs? Two of the things I loved most as a kid turn out to be the same thing! Más o menos. Certainly it’s easy enough to believe, given how huge the Sandhill cranes and even the Canada geese are.

So this afternoon it snowed here on Jupiter. And within a couple hours it was mostly gone. Ah, New Mexico!

You know what wasn’t gone? The cold, when I took Emma for a walk a bit later in our favorite spot down by the Rio Grande Nature Center.

Pretty much the first thing I noticed when we arrived was how the cranes have gotten almost as complacent as the geese about people (and dogs) on the other side of the fence at the south side of the Candelaria Farm nature preserve. These are part of a mixed mob that were grazing within a few feet of the wire on the far side. They paid little attention to me, even as I walked slowly forward, taking pictures as I went, to make sure I got some shots in case they spooked and moved away or flew off.

They didn’t. I got right up to the fence and even took the last couple shots resting the camera on top of the wire. To see ‘em all, bounce over to my set on Flickr.

Oddly, they did fly off toward the river when Emma and I started walking on toward the ditch where we like to promenade.

In other news, thanks, everybody for the response on yesterday’s plea for A little help, please – landscaping division!! You came through with some great and helpful suggestions.

It’s gratifying to see some new commentators, along with those who’ve been here before. Since the final (fingers crossed!) rewrite on The Dinosaur Lords is finally in progress, it’s time to start getting the word out. So I’m glad to be getting more eyes here.

And as always – thanks for reading!

Paradise.

I need to ask my online Master Mind (that would be you) to help me come up with an alternate term for ground cover.

This, basically.

Specifically, is there another term for it?

See, I’m rewriting The Dinosaur Lords, and while there’s grass on Paraiso, there’s also a [...]]]> Yes, kids, landscaping. But not my yard. Nor even Earth.

Paradise.

I need to ask my online Master Mind (that would be you) to help me come up with an alternate term for ground cover.

This, basically.

Specifically, is there another term for it?

See, I’m rewriting The Dinosaur Lords, and while there’s grass on Paraiso, there’s also a lot of other ground covers, like ferns and other low-growing, sprawly plants.

And I’ve finally hit the saturation point on writing “ground cover” all the freaking time. It doesn’t sound that … well, organic.

“Low vegetation” might serve. Occasionally. But it doesn’t seem quite right for me as a general-purpose term.

Suggestions do not need to be accepted landscaping or botanical ones. “Short and sufficiently descriptive” will, well, suffice.

So – ideas? Please?

In other news – WordPress, what did you do with the ability to add a snarky comment visible by mouseover, á la xkcd? I miss that. For I am a smartass.

This pertains. Eventually. Trust me.

And yes. It was totally me. Deal. A truly wise person recognizes and values wisdom regardless of [...]]]> So a very wise man said something pretty wise on the Wild Cards Facebook Group. Which, especially since lots of you aren’t on Facebook, or not in the Group, I thought I’d reprise here.

This pertains. Eventually. Trust me.

And yes. It was totally me. Deal. A truly wise person recognizes and values wisdom regardless of source….

Anyway, it’s about what we really do. Fiction writers, that is.

Simply, the purpose of fiction is to help the reader (or viewer, or game-player) create a story in his or her own mind.

Think about it: we can’t possibly provide every detail. Even if we made every story absurdly (and unreadably) encyclopedic with detail, it would still leave more unsaid than said.

What we create is a sketch, an armature. Something for you to color in or flesh out with your own imagination.

Yeah. You do the real work. We get paid. Pretty sweet deal, huh?

Hope everybody’s recovered from Christmas, and ready to let go of 2012 with a clear conscience. Or at least not too much red on your ledger.

See?

Happy New Year! And as always -

Thanks for reading!

Say hello to my little friend.

News flash: I survived Christmas. And actively enjoyed it. Hope you can say the same.

So a new notion just struck me this afternoon. As you know from reading my free sample chapters of The Dinosaur Lords online on this very site (and if you haven’t, now’s your [...]]]> Big, scary teeth?*

Say hello to my little friend.

News flash: I survived Christmas. And actively enjoyed it. Hope you can say the same.

So a new notion just struck me this afternoon. As you know from reading my free sample chapters of The Dinosaur Lords online on this very site (and if you haven’t, now’s your chance!), that handsome fella up there is a Deinonychus antirrhopus. Or, as he’s better known on the world Paradise, a Horror.

Now, Deinonychus is a pack predator frequently encountered in the land of Nuevaropa, either as a wild menace or in domesticated hunting packs. Which can also be pretty menacing. To see an example of that very phenomenon in action, up close and way too personal, click here.

The idea that hit me this afternoon concerns the appearance of the beasts. If I recall correctly, in the book I give them longer head plumage, but not proper crests. What I’m talking about is the same sort of thing that cardinals and blue jays have – and even roadrunners, the birds on which I model my Horrors’ movement and general demeanor. Except where roadrunners tend to be haughty, Horrors tend to be surly and savage.

So what I’m doing is asking you, the reader: should I give my Horrors jaunty crests? Or just leave their heads plain?

And yes. This is a blatant, not to say shameless, play to fire up the blog again after two-long disuse. And yes, it’s also and equally shameless ploy to start stirring the embers on The Dinosaur Lords. Which is at last progressing, slowly but indeed surely.

So please: give me your answer via my suave poll!

If I can only figure out how to use it…

*No.

Moving on – I tend to come up with specific terms for tools I frequently use in my writing. And I just came up with one that tickles me so much I thought [...]]]> As a writer I have a habit of giving stuff my own names. People, things, even restaurants. Or maybe that’s just an excuse.

Moving on – I tend to come up with specific terms for tools I frequently use in my writing. And I just came up with one that tickles me so much I thought I’d share with you, plus a whole lot more!

(And yes. I’ve been away* a while. Thanks for noticing.)

My shiny new term: Helper Monkey.

A Helper Monkey is a character whose main purpose in the story is to provide some useful service to Our Heroes (a term I trust is self-explanatory.) That service can range from key information to advice to help getting out of a desperate situation.

Keep reading for more of my writer’s idiolect. (I love that word.)

Ashigaru – Japanese foot-soldiers (the name literally means light feet.) Their primary purpose, at least until they got firearms and a bit more serious, seems to have been to give the samurai somebody to hew down heroically. My usage differs slightly, as you might be expecting by now: my ashigaru are incidental characters who have some kind of amusing or at least unusual interaction before the plot passes them by. In my writing they are most frequently bad-guy foot soldiers, hence my use of the word. However, they are not necessarily either villainous or combatants.

An example that for some reason sticks in my head: an eon or so ago I did a couple novels in the Steele series, which were basically Robocop, except if RoboCop wound up looking more like the post-flesh Arnie in The Terminator. Which is to say, a walking metal skeleton. Anyway, I have a scene in which a couple adorable kids happen to be out of an evening on the banks of the Rio Grande, in a post-Apocalypse Albuquerque, no less. (Sometimes I do write what I know.) Noticing a disturbance in the water, one insists it’s caused by a river monster. The other insists there’s no such thing. Then Our Hero The Steel Skeleton emerges, causing the argument to turn out kind of a draw. Anyway, the cute kids are what I term ashigaru.

Ashigaru are not to be confused with Spear Carriers, as defined by Alexei Panshin in his Nebula-winning novel Rite of Passage. Which is an excellent book and I need to reread. They’re similar (and functionally, that’s what ashigaru really were, at least until the whole “gun” thing came along.) But my ashigaru have lines to speak – that’s part of the definition – instead of being mute as well as faceless. And unlike Spear Carriers they are by no means BTD. (See below. Natch.)

Big Bad – The main villain. Yes, it’s obvious. Sue me. If you want profound, go here.

Box Office – Glorious. Usually showy, splashy, and, optimally, involving SBU. I don’t know if he originated it, but I got it from my long-ago gaming buddy Richard Smith, who incurred a few of his own during our role-playing sessions in The Morrow Project. Can refer to any sufficiently gaudy deed, but usually refers to some heroic death involving the strategically vital self-sacrifice of a character who is -

BTD – Born to Die. Yes, we all are. Sucks, doesn’t it? Anyway, the term specifically refers to a character who was originally conceived with some kind of affecting or Box Office demise in mind. Or both. Most often I use it for a character in whom the reader is meant to have emotional investment, whether good guy (you don’t want him to die) or bad (you totally do.)  I do not however apply it to the Big Bad, since his (or her!) death is kinda implied. Usually.

Also: every character ever in A Song of Ice and Fire.

The Royal Scam – What’s really going on. I tend to love deceit and treachery in my yarns, as who doesn’t? Indeed, sometimes the overt part of the sudden-yet-inevitable betrayal – the bait – occurs to me before the trap itself does.

Now, contrary to what you may think, the overt part that usually constitutes what we think of as a scam – think, the ill-gotten treasure offered to you and you alone by the widow of late dictator General Sani Abacha in every Nigerian scam email ever – is not what I mean by The Royal Scam. It’s, as  said, the true doings afoot, as well as their real purpose.

For almost every story or novel I’ve written in, jeez, maybe the last twenty years, I have included in my notes a section entitled The Royal Scam.

It’s the name of a Steely Dan song. In all candor I’ve no idea whether it has anything colorably to do with the song itself. Other than the fact there’s a scam involved. The damn title caught in my mind, as did the refrain, “See the glory – of the Royal Scam.”

SBU – Shit Blows (or Blowing) Up. That, pretty much. While I sometimes use it metaphorically, meaning either things fly completely to pieces or big, sudden action happens (again, they’re not exclusive), most often I mean literally a Big Bada Boom.

When I use the phrase talking about movies, it’s usually far from complementary. In that case it refers to a director employing vast, spectacular explosions to cover a lack of involving characters or plot.

And … that’s all I got for now.

Got any pet writing terms of your own you’d like to share? Hit me with ‘em in the comments!

And as always – thanks for reading!

And patience.

*What happened?

Shit happened. Literally.

As in, my sewer collapsed. And I had to replace the line myself, with more than a little help from my friends.

Never tell your editor more than you have to.

I tell you this now ’cause I caught myself about to do it today.

It’s a similar principle to it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission. Which is also true. Often enough to be useful, anyway.

The key here is: in advance.

Learned this [...]]]> So listen up, kids. This is important:

Never tell your editor more than you have to.

I tell you this now ’cause I caught myself about to do it today.

It’s a similar principle to it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission. Which is also true. Often enough to be useful, anyway.

The key here is: in advance.

Learned this a long time ago. Whether it’s telling too much detail in a synopsis, or telegraphing too much in correspondence. Which was the ghastly gaffe I narrowly averted just now.

See, fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, ferrets gotta … ferret, editors gotta edit. It’s like their job, y’know?

And it is not in the interest of you, the writer, to set that reflex going prematurely.

The problem is context. As in, if you send too much information ahead of the actual manuscript, the editor will not have it. And will therefore start coming up with reasons it can’t be done or shouldn’t be done.

Isn’t it better to just write it, and let them see how it works/flows/makes sense/advances the plot, whatever, in the actual manuscript?

In my experience: absolutely.

(Which for some reason I always hear in Sylvester Stallone’s voice. No idea which movie it’s from. Other than, not a Rocky, since I don’t watch those. A little help here?)

This was a big reason I decided, back on my 48th birthday (that’s ten years ago last month, for those keeping score at home), to write the whole of The Dinosaur Lords before letting an agent or editor see it. Indeed, I decided that part months earlier – long before I actually determined which book I was going to write as my Big Breakout Novel.

My concern was, naturally, that an editor would decide straight up that it was impossible to do a high/epic fantasy novel about knights riding dinosaurs without it being goofy and sucking. Which as we all know (for we’ve all read the free online preview, if not the beta of the entire ms., yes?) the book most definitely is not and does not.

Or, alternately, would want to fix it: “Ooh! I love it! It’s perfect! Now if we just amp up the political intrigue, and lose the dinosaurs….”

And by the way, that very suggestion was made to me by people in my writers group. Whom I like and respect. Still.

I had a vision for this book. I intended to write the book I most wanted to read in all the whole, wide world.

And I did. So there.

So I was not going to have people getting ideas of how to “improve” it before they even saw what I was doing.

Clearly, it’s not perfect. I think it’s a very good book. But because I decided to go the conventional-publishing route, with all its attendant risks, that also meant submitting it to an editor. Who was going, see above, to want to, you know, edit it.

And make no mistake: I am under no illusion that every word that flows (or sometimes stumbles, and occasionally faceplants) from my fingers is sacred. I welcome good editing.I need it.

The point being: that was part of the intention, too. I knew it was very good; I intended to make it great. And I would hope for the help of a good editor in doing that thing.

Which is happening, if still a little slower than I’d like (albeit at both ends now.)

Which brings us all to the second part of the lesson: remember what I said away up top there? Don’t tell too much in advance.

See, now The Editor does need to know WTF’s going on.  At least in Book I (ahem.) And it turns out, some of the overall scheme of things.

Which is why last week I sent The Editor a lengthy email, much of which comprised a description of what I have long termed to myself The Royal Scam: what’s really going on? Specifically, with Paradise? How did all these people get here? And, what the hey – dinosaurs?

Also, The Editor needs to know some of my intentions for the next two books,

But only some. Heh, heh.

So there you have it. Remember the basic principle of security: need to know.

And learn and live the wise words of warning: loose lips sink plots!

And always – thanks for reading!

Bubonicon 44, of course!

And by “rough beast,” I naturally mean this entirely adorable Mayan Perry Rodent!

Impending Apocalypse never looked so cute!

I love that image! I wish it were on our official tee-shirt. I want it on everything.

Since I can’t find a credit, I can but attribute it to [...]]]> … Slouches toward Burque to be born?

Bubonicon 44, of course!

And by “rough beast,” I naturally mean this entirely adorable Mayan Perry Rodent!

Impending Apocalypse never looked so cute!

I love that image! I wish it were on our official tee-shirt. I want it on everything.

Since I can’t find a credit, I can but attribute it to our Artist Guest of Honor, Ursula Vernon. It appears to be her style.

Perry’s been our mascot since roughly forever. He’s named after Perry Rhodan, hero of a 50 year old gonzo German space opera series that runs to like five million volumes.* He is always portrayed wearing a single shoe. No, I don’t know why.

So our other Guests of Honor are Writer Brandon Sanderson and Toastmaster Michael Cassutt.

We’ll also feature the usual suspects: Daniel Abraham, Mario Acevedo, Rose Beetem, Richard Berthold, David Boop, Stephen Boucher, Adam Jarmon Brown, Craig A. Butler, Aaron Campbell, Peri Charlifu, Doranna Durgin, Janice Gelb, Steven Gould, Sally Gwylan, Science Guest Loretta Hall, Warren Hammond, Betsy James, Darynda Jones, T. Jackson King, Susan Krinard, Andy Kuhn, Jane Lindskold, George RR Martin, John Jos. Miller, Laura J. Mixon, Pati Nagle, Charles and Tauni Orndorff, Scott Phillips, John Maddox Roberts, Joan Saberhagen, Tim Simpson, Melinda Snodgrass, Caroline Spector, Gabi Stevens, S.M. Stirling, David Lee Summers, Ian Tregillis, Robert Vardeman, Carrie Vaughn, Dennis Virzi, Walter Jon Williams and Connie Willis.

Plus the usual wonderful fans, including the usual Albuquerque Science Fiction Society suspects. Plus, as always, unannounced/unexpected delights in the form of attendees from far and wide!

And those are just the confirmed ones scraped off the website!  Sorry, I’m not linking to their pages. I have an actual occupation (spoiler: writing!) that I’ve been falling behind on of late. Also I’m not nuts. Or at least a masochist. That much.

And speaking of me … yes, I’ll be there. Of course.

Keep reading to learn where and when you can see me.

Victor’s Bubonicon Schedule:

Friday, 8/24:

6:00-6:25 PM, Main Room – Salon E – Opening Ceremonies!
7:30-8:25 PM, Salon C-D (DC Comics) – 55 Minutes with Victor Milán (dot’s I’m!)
9:30-10:55 PM (What?), Acoma (by Art Show) – Panel # 7 – The Love of Cheese: The Cheese Magnet Returns!

Saturday, 8/25:

2:00-2:55 PM, Main Room (Salon E) – If I Had It All to Do Again: Lessons Learned
5:20-6:30 PM, Main Room (Salon E) – Mass Murder Autographing Session
7:30-When It Freakin’ Ends PM, Main Room (Salon E) – Costume Contest – Master of Ceremonies: Victor Milán (still me!)

Sunday, 8/26:

4:30-Not Too Late, Hopefully PM, Main Room (Salon E) – Closing Ceremonies! It’s over! Go home!

Of course, festivities don’t wait until 6 PM Friday to kick off: Registration opens at 3, and the first panel’s at 4.

Thank you, Craig and Kristen (our Co-Chairs) for not scheduling me before OC’s Friday, before noon Saturday, or at all Sunday. I’m a little less excited about the fact that on Saturday I have like an hour and 25 minutes to race home, tend to my animals (sick cats; Emma’s bladder), and try to get something for dinner. Or wait to 9:30 or 10, which is … not optimal for me, given certain health issues. But I expect we’ll all pull through.

One thing I like a lot is that this year, as entertainment whilst the judges are out doing their judgemental thing on the costume contestants, the lovely and talented (seriously) Jessica Coyle will be hosting the far-famed Green Slime Awards. This is Double Bonus (Triple if Jess wears a tight, décolleté outfit again this year), since it not only is a cool way to pass the necessary break in the mad Costume Contest action, it also cuts down the length of the Closing Ceremonies, when everybody’s dog-ass tired and ready to go.

Plus, there’s the chance of another SyFy Original Movie Scene Re-Enactment featuring Jess and the likewise lovely and talented Randi Tinkham Hewett. Wrestling. A must-see!

Other important data: Bubonicon 44 takes place Friday the 24th through Sunday the 26th at a new location! It’s the Albuquerque Marriott Uptown, 2101 Louisiana Blvd NE (Louisiana & I-40), Albuquerque, NM 87110, Phone: 800-228-9290. Which number I include in case for some reason you need to call for info; if you don’t already have a room, lotsa luck grabbing one now.

So don’t go to the old airport hotel. Or you will be sad. (Well, okay, you may have a perfectly wonderful time. Just not with us.)

So, wow. In other news … I feel much better. As in less shit-sick, though more as if I’ve got allergies. Still: progress!

Also, progress with the cats. Of sorts. Squeak still seems to have a reduced appetite, which is the opposite of her usual. TJ still hasn’t … voided … anything (that I’m aware of) but he’s much perkier now. He’s drinking on his own, eating some food, and I’m getting some laxative into him.

Had a bit of a hiccup in the wee hours when I woke around 5:30 and had trouble getting back to sleep. Since there’s little worse for me under such circumstances than lying there trying to force myself to go back to sleep, I padded out to  my American Tolkien Chair (and yes, GRRM‘ll be at Bubonicon too! In case you missed, you know, his name on the list above) and turned on the PC. I was looking to get back to my project of learning to play Go by losing 100 games as expeditiously as possible. I also checked my email.

Which showed that a couple hours earlier The Editor had sent me another email concerning The Dinosaur Lords and his notes thereon. Some of which upset me. Making it hard to return to sleep.

Leaving the details for later, or never, one thing that got to me was his announcement that today on my doorstep I could expect to find the full manuscript with his notes included. I’m not sure why, and not greatly thrilled. I mean, it’s not as if I’ve been buying and using computers for literally the last thirty (!) years precisely in order to avoid having to juggle two-ream piles of freaking paper, or anything.

Took me two hours to master myself and get back to sleep. So I’m going into the pre-Con party a but short on sleep along with not feeling primo. I really, really need to get a good sleep tonight. Because I want to hit Bubonicon hard.

Anyway, while I’m – let’s say, dubious – about the whole printout thing, I’m taking a wait-and-see on that. The big lesson here, I suspect, is that it’s just as suboptimal for The Editor to be writing and sending me Important Editorial Emails at weird o’clock in the morning as it is for me to be reading them then.

And speaking of … well, whatever … I need to get some writing done on the Deathlands novel, which as you can imagine has suffered somewhatly in the last few days. I really hope to get Emma Dog and me out for a walk, since it’s been roughly forever. I’m honestly not sure if I’m up to it, but I suspect I kind of need to haul my dead ass out and do it.

Anyway – now I need to get some more calories, plus cat-safe laxative, into TJ, and then get on with life.

Which overall – no mistake – is fucking great. And I intend it to be even greater when I hit Bubonicon.

Hope you can hit it with me!

*Possible exaggeration.

The good news? I’m feeling better today, after having been sick yesterday.

The bad news? That’s relatively speaking. And entailed sleeping until a quarter past noon. Which nonetheless I badly needed to do. Plus – well, there are problems.

The cats aren’t eating, even their much-desired wet-food breakfast. Which may [...]]]> … To keep my attitude up.

The good news? I’m feeling better today, after having been sick yesterday.

The bad news? That’s relatively speaking. And entailed sleeping until a quarter past noon. Which nonetheless I badly needed to do. Plus – well, there are problems.

The cats aren’t eating, even their much-desired wet-food breakfast. Which may mean force-feeding in our future. Which … just, not-fun, okay? Neither of them likes it. And TJ can’t tolerate being scruffed, which means Towel Straitjacket City for us.

They may’ve got my cold (or possibly flu) and can’t smell – meaning they won’t eat. Meaning if they don’t get some nourishment soon, their kidneys or livers (can’t recall which) will start shutting down inside two days. So … oy.

TJ seems to be having some constipation issues. Some of the vets online recommend psyllium husk. Which, while it works – I use it extensively, not to put too fine an edge on it – is problematic. I know Teej won’t touch his dry food if I sprinkle some on. And in wet food – well, in water it sets up quickly to the consistency of rubber. Which he certainly won’t eat. And probably can’t.

If I have to force-feed him, I’ll melt some butter into the pureed wet food to … loosen things up. Fat suits his obligate-carnivore digestion better than fiber. (Whereas we humans need both – and no starch at all.)

I did catch him while I was writing this, and inflict some Nutracal for Cats on him. Which he clearly considered an indecent imposition. But will go a long ways toward keeping his system from shutting itself down.

Still, he’s clearly not feeling great himself. There may also be a trip to the vet in his future. We’ll see if I can get him on the healing path first; the experience of going terrifies him so completely that it takes a lot to be worse for him, frankly.

(Later update: Squeak did eat a little of her dry food. Plus she gobbled down her Treat. So she’s off the Immediate Danger list. Although Squeak being reluctant to eat is akin to the sun rising in the West.) (Except on Paradise.)

Also, I find myself with plumbing woes. The washing machine drain drain in the utility room backs up and dumps water on the floor, which I know isn’t good (I’m smart that way.)More distressingly I have some kind of persistent leak in my kitchen sink. That I can’t find. And seems not just to be leaking below, but actually into the wall, since there’s clearly dripping from it outside.

Now, I’m generally pretty good with plumbing. The washing-machine blockage is however the kind if thing I already know, from sorry experience, is not worth my time, energy, and attention screwing with. That’s a $100 plumber call, which ought to resolve it smart quick. And while I don’t really want to drop the hundred bucks right now – well, it’s still the only cost-effective solution.

So, fine. The sink issue’s another thing. I’ll investigate further on my own. I suspect I may need to enlist help from some of my plumbing-savvy friends on this. So if any of you are reading this … help? Please?

Plus the usual bills and such. And Bubonicon 44, coming up Friday through Sunday at its new location, the Albuquerque Marriott Uptown, 2101 Louisiana Blvd NE (Louisiana & I-40), Albuquerque, NM 87110.

Now, if I’m not literally bed-ridden, I will turn up at Bubonicon to do my gigs. Including MC of their senses-shattering Costume Contest. If, on the other hand, I’m too sick to enjoy the pre-con party Thursday, I will b well and truly pissed.

Which is a relatively minor issue. Less minor: my Deathlands deadline approacheth, and Storm Breakers will not write itself (darn it anyway.) And as mentioned, I’ve started receiving the editorial notes for The Dinosaur Lords, O bliss! O poop-poop! O my! O my!

Now, we’re still at the stage of discussing the notes, The Editor and I. The good news here – and here it’s mostly good – is that first, as anticipated, most of his suggestions I accept straight up; and second, that overall his recommendations look less comprehensive and Draconian than what I intend to do already. So I’ll incorporate them – and then make my own trims and clarifyin’s. There do remain a few issues to work out before I start the actual rewrite, however.

Which in a way may be yet another disguised blessing. Since I still feel pretty low.

Whine. Snivel. Moan. [/off]

We’ll get through this. I persevere. It’s one of my (literally) saving graces – that kept me going though the decades despite the fact I was constantly grinding away at myself. And it’s one of the things that has kept me moving, more steadily than otherwise, away from the place I was.

As the song above says – you were wondering why I posted it, yes? – the only thing I know to do is to keep on keepin’ on.

It serves me well.

And just because a day like this makes it hard to get my attitude up and keep it that way doesn’t mean I’m not bloody well going to do it.

It’s more fun when it’s easy. When it’s not … I do it anyway.

So – I think that despite my general lack of energy I’m gonna take Emma Dog, put her in the car, throw on her brand-new Steampunk goggles, and take us off for a too-long-deferred walk down near the Rio Grande Nature Center. That usually makes me feel better.

And then – well, do what I need to. As always.

And as always – thanks for reading!