The Jollyfoot’s Journey has been revised, and the revision – of Books One and Two, and of Books Three and Four (a separate volume), and of the Kindle edition of all four books – should be available on Amazon in a day or two. And guess what? The price of the second paperback has been lowered by a dollar! (I did try to lower the price of Books One and Two, but Amazon said I couldn’t.)

I’d call them sci fi, but as they’re a lot more fi than sci, I call them space operas. There’s some cross-over in them, too, with Mere Mortals’ Magic. Who knew that holograms, who need projectors in our space (and even in our future), would be sustained by the electro-magical currents of the Oldeven Core? I certainly didn’t know it until Kester and Makepeace, the aforementioned holorgrams, discovered it themselves in the first book of the Jollyfoot series.

The revisions are mostly cosmetic, so you’re not missing anything except a few typos if you already have your copies. But as I was rereading them myself, I realized that I have to write more about Brinn Rhodry and Lafe Reardon.

On their way back from the Middle Lands (the dimension of Earth in which we live), they need to stop in Oldeven and visit with Lord Jon Weldon and his wife, the princess of Glennore, and their new baby before they head back to their own dimension and time to spend some time with Lafe’s brother Renz and his new family. (I can just about hear the Reardon brothers trying to explain themselves, but I’m not sure I’m ready to hear about their escapades yet. I am prepared to be completely sympathetic with Renz’ wife, though.) And whatever happens there is just the prelude to their longer journey to Alyth, Brinn’s mother’s home planet, where they’re going to do the bonding ceremony that’s been a long time coming.

After that, they’ve hinted that they might be interested in a race for charity – but first, Brinn has to confide in Lafe about the existence of the group she wants to win for, and convince him that the planet where it’s headquartered really does exist. If that’s what they decide to do, well, then, ha! I know something they don’t know: they’ll come in second. The first prize winner is Rozenn Cîela, the Auberplene assassin who until recently was trying to kill Brinn. I hope they enter the race: it’s the only way they’ll find out how Cîela turned the tables on the underground commerce lord who wanted Brinn dead.

But then …. Well, then I have to write at least two more stories about Oldeven. I’ve drafted one, and am “cogitatin’” on another – and then I have to sort out what happened when Merlin (yeah, that Merlin) gets to spend some 21st-century time in the Middle Lands. See, without their knowing it, he tagged along with Brinn and Lafe when they visited the Middle Lands to explore Lafe’s human heritage, and then he couldn’t resist “exploring” the persona Lafe assumed when he and Brinn had to rescue Rozenn Cîela from the “men in black.” I am hopeful of having whisky good enough to get Merlin to tell me more of that story than I can guess.

And that is how what should be a simple revision of a book series turns into five more stories, any of which might turn themselves into whole books. Sláinte!

​The last few months have maybe not been as hard on me as on some people. Over the summer I got some writing done, but in the last few weeks, I haven’t done much. That’s because* I’m waiting for National Novel Writing Month to start …. I’m trying a new genre, a modern-day noir detective story, and the other things I’m working on are non-fiction and fantasy, and I don’t want to mess with my style-head.
 
In the meantime, though, after months of thought, I have decided to “redo” my office. This involves painting, and not just the walls. I have long wanted a white office suite, and I started looking at desks/cabinets a couple-three years ago, and I can’t find anything I like as well as the desk I have now. So. I’ve already emptied and move the various file cabinets out, with three of them slated for sanding and painting. I can’t do the desk itself till after NaNo, which gives me an added incentive to finish my 50K-word draft ASAP.
 
One file cabinet’s been moved to another room, and its files put back in. The ones that are coming back into the office are just little two-drawer ones, so they’re in the back room, on the tarp that’s still spread out from a different painting project. The desk, because we don’t want to take it completely apart, is staying in here; we’ll just lay down another tarp and sand/paint it in the middle of the room.
 
The main reason to move the desk from the corner it’s in to “the other corner” is that I’m going to paint a giant chalkboard on the freed-up walls! I have a 4’ x 5’ piece of foam board covered with chalk-board sticky paper, and it’s wonderful, and I want more. The one I have lists the status of the books I’m working on, and now I need some blackboard space for notes and plot lines. I’m really pretty excited about it!
 
Once I finish NaNo, I’ve got at least three other books that need editing, another that needs finishing, and a make-5x8-cards-for-all-my-characters project to finish. I expect, though, that I will take a day or two to just swirl around in my office chair, or stand at the door, to love my new office, and maybe scribble something inspirational on the blackboard.
 
*The other part of “because” is that I have been flailing about in anxiety and depression about the current state of state and national affairs, but it’s just too depressing to go into that here. I will take what distractions I can get, and hope you’re finding some comforts too.

​I'm easily distracted, but I don't think I'm wasting time.
Covid cannot be redacted, so I make masks for me and mine.
(I'm also making some for friends, and some to donate, too -
in these days of life and death, it's the least that I can do.)
But I'm writing, and I'm editing, and hope to catch all errors,
though they aren't due much credit in these days of many terrors.
Still, I'm aiming to revise the books I've written up to now,
to turn them into e-books, and I'm slowly learning how.
(I just did a slim volume of stories and pomes in digital and paper.
It's scary to click on "publish," and gave me a touch of vapor.)
But I'm easily distracted, from proper rhymes and grammar,
by what I see and hear about the current mellerdrammer.
A character, the other day, took a clear and present stand
and gave me a couple thousand words of the story she demand-
ed, and so I've filed it, for NaNo in November,
if other characters don't come around and fan up other embers.
I've still got paper proofs to read, and mark with my red pen.
Then I'll enter those corrections, and go around again.
We still plan on going camping, in another month or so,
to which I much look forward. I'll have paper proofs in tow!
I am easily distracted by the world that used to be,
and by what I imagine is the world that we could see.
It isn't wasting time, if or not it makes a book,
to let my imagine chime in on the way new normal should look.

​For writing conventions, I've got a workshop called Writing Witches, about how to create realistic Pagan characters. But in this blog, I'm talking about Writing Bitches, because that's what I'm trying to do right now.
      Constance Evershaw is the main character in my novel-in-progress, The Evershaw Century. Mae Haley is one of the other characters. Mae and Cons are the titular bitches here, and at this point, the only surviving main characters. Here's the scene in which Meade Trevalian, Cons' late-in-life husband, dies. He's 99 years old, so I knew he'd have to die soon, but I didn't intend this to be his death scene.

      One serene afternoon early in June of 1949, the delicate fragrance of some late blooming apple trees drifting down to mingle with the fresh scents of the riverbanks grasses and wildflowers, Cons looked up from her canvas to find Meade watching her with a faint smile on his face. They’d had help getting her easel and canvas, and chairs for both of them, down to this spot. Poppy’s great-great grand-nephew would be along shortly to start carrying things back up.
      “When I die,” she said to him, “I should like to be buried here, near that bench, with only a small stone – polished marble, I think – to mark my grave.”
      “And I beside you, when the time comes,” he answered her. She wasn’t being maudlin, or prophetic in any way. She was only appreciating the beauty and peace of the place. Happily, she’d been able to capture it in some of her paintings.
      “Yes.” She paused. “But not for many more years,” she added. “I’d like to turn this Evershaw century into at least two, wouldn’t you?”
      He nodded. “If you go back to, oh, let’s say your third great grand-aunt Mariah, it’s already been two-and-a-half Evershaw centuries.”
      She smiled, and Meade thought she looked beatific when she did. “Yes, but I mean my Evershaw century. I don’t want it to end.”
      “It hasn’t yet,” he said. “Maybe it never will.” He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm sun on his face and the image of his beloved’s smile in his mind’s eye, and left Cons’ century behind.
       She felt him go, like a fading hug, but she finished another few brushstrokes before she turned. On the canvas, his eyes were open, and he was smiling. She had painted him from her undimming memory of their wedding day.

      Now, according to my outline, Cons and Mae are gonna have one last adventure, a train trip from Boston to L.A. I did some research so I could write that trip accurately, and I was ready to draft it today ... but Cons and Mae were not. They are apparently still thinking about ... what they want to see? How they want to interact with other passengers? What they want to do when they get to California? It is not - and I will state this for the record - my intention for either of them to die on the train, or in California (or anywhere else they stop), but I am not sure that I can trust either of them not to decide to do just that. I have already had to chuck the first ending I drafted (which I liked pretty well), but I am hoping that Cons and Mae let me have some input into the story's ending.
      When I first started writing (and I'm not sure I should even call it "writing," what I was putting on paper back then), I was happy for my characters to take my stories where they would, and they generally took my stories into blind alleys. Nowadays, I outline (using the term loosely) my plots, and generally only consider suggestions from my characters. It's fine if they correct me as to details - oh, strawberry, not vanilla? - but I expect to be in control of the plot myself, and frankly, not to deviate too far from my outline. If I myself have what I think is a better idea, that's one thing, and I've altered many a plot for that reason. But it's been a long time since I've been down with my characters reaching in and fiddling with the controls the way Cons and Mae are doing, per Meade's example.
      I did mean for Cons to be a Strong Female Character - as are most of the other women in this story - but I didn't mean for her to be stronger-willed than me! Wish me luck!

​It has been some time since I've blogged here, probably because it has been some time since I've been writing. But - it's November, and that's National Novel Writing Month, and it compels me. (This is my thirteenth year "nano-ing," as we say.) This year's title is The Evershaw Century, and I hope to get it out there in the next three-four months. The story sees Constance Evershaw leaving the country as a young woman, coming home to more than one inheritance, exploring her relatives' eccentricities, and watching history unfold from the American Civil War through Truman's presidency. Oh, and she defied a few social protocols and solved a murder, too.
      Other writers will probably chuckle if they see this, but this year I did a chapter-by-chapter synopsis - nothing I'd show a publisher, at least not in its present form, but something to help me keep all the characters doing what they need to do, where and when they need to do it. It's also shown me some loose ends that need tying up, and some details I should write a little more about. I used to think that synopses were just a marketing tool, but now I see that they're a writing tool as well. Duuh!
      I have been thinking about her story for a little more than a year, and I had notes - the NaNo rule (really more a suggestion) is that you can use notes, but you can't write anything narrative until 12:01 a.m. November first - but I didn't get to start until November fourth, 'cause this year the Tucson Celtic Festival was the first through the third. Never mind: I reached the 50,000 word goal by the eleventh, and I think that - eight days - is the fastest I've ever done it!
      The word count is currently just over sixty thousand, but it's gonna go a little higher by the time I go over my chapter synopsis again and add in the parts of the story I forgot to include. The only thing that's gonna delay me now is installing the new keyboard I ordered. It should be here by Tuesday, and it'll be nice. It's the same as the one I'm using now, but none of the keys' letters will be worn off, and it will have a built-in, um, tilty-thingie under it so it'll be at the right angle. I've got a makeshift one of those right now, and it helps, but the new keyboard will be better. (You'd think that after all the years I've been writing books, I'd know the keyboard by heart, and I pretty much do, but with the I and E and O and U completely gone, and the A and L replaced with red nail polish that's also wearing off, I get confused if I look at the keyboard - which do mainly because that's where my eyes go when I'm peering into the idea-sphere.)
      I did not write this book by myself. Maybe because I'd been thinking about it off and on for so many months, the characters, especially Cons, really stepped up. Writers talk about their characters hijacking their stories, taking them off the carefully plotted track and leading them somewhere else entirely, but that's not what Cons and Johnny and Mae, or any of the others, did. (Newlin Merchant surprised me a couple of times, but he's a psychopath, so that's to be expected.) My characters didn't disagree with me about what was happening. They just spoke right up and explained how everything went down. I really appreciate that!
      This novel's different for me in another way, too: I relate to these characters as actual people, rather than people I've made up. Don't get me wrong - my other characters are "real" in the sense that they have distinct views and voices and all, but ... this feels almost biographical. It's certainly the closest I've gotten to historical fiction. I knew people who were alive during this story's time frame, and the characters in Evershaw seem a little like friends of theirs that I don't quite remember. That's been weird, and cool.
      When books I'm writing challenge me, or make me relate to characters in new ways, I'm a happy writer. Hoping y'all are happy doing what you're doing, I bid you farewell for now, and, um, semi-promise to make my next entry before another five months have gone by.
      Sláinte!

​So, Husband-man, aka Dear Husband (DH, which is the abbreviation we use on the RV FB pages), had his first cataract surgery last Thursday, and will have his second this coming Thursday. For the next forever weeks (not really - 7 weeks, really) there will be eye drops. Lots and lots of eye drops. He says that the change in colors is amazing. The restrictions are only a little bothersome. He can't drive for a while, and he can't bend over past his waist. This makes it difficult to set up our above-ground pool for our July 6th summer party. But given that he was essentially one-eyed, the surgeries are necessary, and in the long term, a Very Good Thing,
      The reason I have not made a blog-post in a while is that we were gone for about a month. We went to Oregon for DH's 50th college reunion. It was an excellent trip, from which we learned a lot. (The Castle, our 5th-wheel, is just the right size; we should not do more than 3 one-night stops in a row, and between the one-night stops we should make three-night stops so we don't have to choose between shopping/laundry and sightseeing - that sort of thing.) The reunion went well, as did a dinner with my long-time college friends at another friend's house.
      We are between the worlds right now: dealing with the next cataract surgery, getting ready for a party on July 6th, and another trip - to the Flagstaff Highland Games - in mid-July, with the trailer (the Castle) in the shop for some warranty work. I kind of feel like I ~used~ to be a writer, but soon, relatively speaking, I will be back at it. Yep.
      Till then, hope you're having interesting days as we pass Midsummer and head toward cooler days to come - in a while. :-)

So, I started reading Marie Kondo's The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, and even before I've finished the book, I'm heavily into the process. I've modified it some, but it's working for me. And in theory, tidying one's space also tidies one's mind. We can but hope!
      The closet isn't done yet, but four or five 30 gallon bags of clothes that do not spark joy have gone to the thrift shop. I was skeptical about the advice to organizing hanging clothes with longer, heavier things on the left and shorter, lighter things on the right, but I tried it, and I like it. It's different than organizing by category and color, but I like it, and to my happy surprise, it isn't hard to find things! The dresser drawers are now lined, some with scented paper, and very tidy - and yes, I think I can keep them that way. I've been practicing and doing pretty well for a few months now, and with fewer things in the drawers, it should only get easier.
      What has this to do with writing? Well, of course, there's the organizing thoughts that goes along with organizing stuff, and there's the way that moving clothes around seems to spark ideas. But that's peripheral; the real link to writing is when I moved this process to my office. I have, so far, filled the recycle bin twice, and half-filled the very large garbage can. Things I thought it would be emotionally painful to get rid of weren't; it was a relief. It will be even more of a relief when I am done!
      I had a moment of panic when I couldn't find an important file, because it was in a new place (which turned out not to be as convenient as I thought it would be). This experience has made it very clear that Kondo's advice - not to worry about where things go until you decide what to keep - is very good advice. I have ordered a couple of things to better store what I am keeping; she likes shoe boxes, but I've used all mine up (mostly in the dresser drawers), and anyhow, I don't want shoe boxes on my desk.
      I have been through a lot of files, but still need to go through several more, including my oldest one: Names, Notes, and Scrappy Bits. I love this file. It holds a whole lot of ideas, most of which will never be developed - but, and this is key in the "KonMari" process, it brings me joy to go through that file now and then. Doing that will be my reward for getting the rest of the office tidied. (Kondo uses the word "tidying" a little differently than I and most of my friends do. For her, it means a deep and thorough clean out, whereas in my world, it means tucking things out of sight when people come over. She asserts that if you interact with each object, and only keep what you love, you will be less inclined to get/keep things that don't spark joy. That's over-simplifying, of course, but it makes sense to me.)
      Once I get this project finished - the other rooms can wait (and no, I'm not "supposed" to be doing it room by room, I'm supposed to be doing it by category of thing: clothes, books, papers, memoribilia, and lastly, photos, but I'm doing it the way it works for me, so ...) - I will be able to get back to writing with the useful files handy, and fewer distractions, physical and mental. I'm pretty sure that's a good thing. (Yes, I will come back with pix of the tidied office.)
​

​No, no, not trying to get you to change anything. I want to talk about language in fantasy and sci-fi (and other other-worldly, other-timely) settings.
We take it for granted, we writers, that most people have the same feelings. Not about the same things, of course, and the way people - characters - express their feelings can vary. But everybody feels some way or other about what's going on around them. (Yes, even Spock.)
      How they react is going to depend on who and where and when they are. Unpleasantly surprised or confronted, I myself might say, "Shit!" but Scarlett O'Hara, or Commander Deanna Troi, would not. And while Cmdr. Troi and I might both say "Okay" to something we approved, Miss Scarlett would not.
      That most cultures through time have their formal and casual sides doesn't mean that those formalities and informalities are or should be expressed the same way everywhere/everywhen. Example: if I'm reading high fantasy, I do not want my Elvin princess saying "Okay" to anybody. Period. That's a modern colloquialism that does not convert. (So maybe yes, I might want to you change some things. If your Elvin princess talks like a Jersey girl, I want you to change that - but that doesn't mean you can't change it to her having been brought up cross-dimensionally in Jersey.)
      In the sci-fi/space opera I am currently converting to Kindle's format, my characters live 500 years from now, in the United Galaxies; Humans are no longer the darlings of the spaceways, but English is still a well-known and widely-used language, and some ancient slang is still common. So sometimes, they do say "Okay." But the Oldeveni in another dimension they end up visiting, even though they live only slightly out-of-phase with 20th century Earthlings, don't - because they and their cultures are the source of our high fantasy.
      I get that urban fantasy mixes the formalities of other worlds/cultures with the informalities of ours, but not all fantasies are urban, just as not all sci-fi is hard science. All I'm asking is that people be aware enough of their genres to keep the language and customs and habits in their stories consistent, internally consistent. If that requires a change, then yes, I am asking you to convert!
      Oh, and one other thing: I promise that if I read something of yours and see an incongruity of this sort, I will contact you first, and not make it the focus of any review I write, so I'll ask the same of you in that regard, too.
      Write on! (and read on!)