And back to work.

The worst of my insomnia seems to have passed. In its last throes, I worked out a way to shear another 10-20K from my book, which will require a near-total rewrite (AGAIN). This is getting ridiculous. It's what needs to be done, though. Keep telling myself it'll help the story.

As the Import has the day off and is doing nothing more taxing than playing EverQuest, I'm going to see if he'll put the kettle on. This sort of work calls for rooibos in massive amounts.

OMFG

The universe is going out of its way to make up for Neil's absence. The anthology clause was in my contract, but I thought it was just a formality. OMFG.

I think this calls for Vietnamese food. Must see if my parents are willing to shell out, as I just paid the mortgage.

Linky, in case anyone wants to buy a copy of The Best of Jim Baen's Universe II. I'll even sign it for you. (EEEEEE! I can walk into my local B&N and sign copies, and they won't kick me out!!!)

Neil was cancelled.

I'm going back to bed.

Sigh.

Are sedatives supposed to stop working? I managed six very spotty hours of sleep last night WITH medical intervention. We'll find out in an hour if it was enough!

Right now, my big worries are the rain, whether my bra is showing (considering changing my shirt), and making an idiot of myself. "You're Neil." "Yes, I am." "You're Neil!"

As an illustration, I direct you to this graph.

Must put on some pants now. I do, indeed, wish to continue fighting crime today.

*ODE TO JOY*

I! HAVE! SLEPT! WOOOHOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks to chemical intervention, I managed about 16 hours, and now I feel like myself. Still need a shower and to do the laundry, but I'm editing again. Editing goooood. (Also? I have mint tea. Mmmm.) Should probably eat something later to make up for the less-than-500 calories I've had a day for the whole dang week, but I don't see that being much of a problem. Need to eat my roasted beets, anyway. Normally, they'd be long gone by now.

All right, back to work. I want to have book one down to 50-55K before I begin compressing book two. Together, they need to be about 120K.

Starting day three....

In the last 72 hours, I've managed maybe--MAYBE--eight hours of shuteye. This insomnia hits every summer when the mould spore spikes, but it's not normally this bad. Going to try and get something for it tomorrow. I need this mess straightened out at least somewhat before Saturday, because I'm meeting NEIL FUCKING GAIMAN.

Not that "Fucking" is his middle name. According to Wikipedia, it's Richard (which, coincidentally, is my dad's name). But you get the point.

I've had my ticket since April. I'm in the third row for the screening of Beowulf, I have access to the early signing, and I'm going to the post-movie reception. (I splurged on my mad money portion of this year's tax return.) There is no effing way I'm missing this thing due to my immune system's eccentricities. If I have to down a bottle of sherry to knock myself out, well, it's probably a good thing I only buy the small bottles.

Due to the lack of sleep, editing is going very, very slowly because I don't trust my judgement right now. OTOH, knitting is going amazingly well, apart from the lace scarf I tried to start tonight, only for Crowley to jump into my lap and accidentally pull the needle loose. No big. He needed cuddles anyway. I did finish a Victorian-era shawl this evening. The Import thinks it's hideous (it's light grey, with medium grey edging), but I love it to death. My mom, alas, will very likely find a way to claim it for herself. I may have to make another one to fend her off. Keep in mind, the lace scarf is for her. I'm fairly sure any additional claims she lays are payback for the crap I gave her as a child.

All right. I'm terminally awake, so I'm going to be productive. In other words, let's hear it for PBS, Nova, and DVR technology.

Hmm.

There appears to be some good from my newly mega-restrictive diet. The wonderful pink linen skirt I bought a few weeks ago is hanging off my hips. Still stays up, so it still technically fits (writer fashion!), but I'm not sure how much longer it'll be before I have to consign it for something else. Or, y'know, rip the side seams, reduce the waistband, and keep it for another few months.

Must get back to editing.

Am reading the sequel to The Winter Prince, A Coalition of Lions. Literally read half of it last night, and will probably finish tonight. Elizabeth E. Wein is incredible, and I dearly need to get hold of The Mark of Solomon (both books).

Sigh.

George Carlin died.

Not funny. Not funny at ALL.

W00T!

Go and congratulate Kelly on her sale! Go, Kelly! =)

An Open Letter

Dear Aspiring Writers,

When writing your first good novel, make sure to keep it as short as possible. I didn't. Now I'm learning the hard way how to completely restructure two long books to fit into one short one. I'll be finishing the sherry tonight and considering getting another bottle--cooking sherry, if necessary. Also? Figuring out how a girl in Victorian London would show her pr0n collection to a boy she's not remotely interested in is harder than it sounds.

I shall now return to editing, all the time fighting to ignore the suddenly clarion call of laundry. While the Import is ecstatic over my new interest in housework, it's not terribly mutual, and I'd like to hide under a rock until it passes.

Love,

Me

Hmm.

*checks news*

*notes that neither California nor Massachusetts have slid into the ocean yet*

*waves little happy flag*

Carry on.

The World's Sexiest Pin-Up

Aldous Huxley, as seen in his audition shoot for Hot Transkitty. Or, y'know, having a bath after I've put the mattress pad back on the bed. A stripped bed is an Aldous magnet. (He had a life-threatening urinary blockage last year and had to have all his equipment amputated. Hence, my cat is transgender.)

I'll post pics of Baby and Crowley when I have some decent ones. Please forgive the slightly blurry quality. The Import is in Florida for a week, and he took the camera with him. I'm just lucky I found my phone before Aldous decided he was clean.

Oh, Zod in Krypton.

Wanted: one gas mask or one cork sized Cat's Butt.

I have no honest idea where Crowley keeps it. He reeks at both ends, but every once in a while, nations fall under onslaught of his gaseous emissions.

Yes, I know. I'm talking about cat farts. Believe me, where this cat is concerned, they're epic.

Sweet Elvis!

This morning, I finished knitting a linen string bag (ie, a glorified fishing net) in the middle of Panera. Don't ask what I was doing awake at seven in the morning, much less in a Panera. Anyway. The bag didn't look all that big; it's only 160 stitches around, which isn't much for lace weight yarn, even if I doubled it and used proportionately ginormous needles (sz. 10.5, aka 6.5mm). So I took my new bag, along with my other two trusty sidekicks, to Whole Foods to pick up some soy-based goodness.

I kid you not, my string bag took about forty pounds of groceries and demanded more. There were no more, at least not in my bank account. I could fit a king-sized comforter in that thing if I wanted to. Its in the washer right now, losing both sizing and attitude, though I wouldn't lay money on the attitude. As much as I'd like another one, I'm a little afraid they would breed and engulf the world in the deceptive depths of a million little string bags.

We'll see what I want to do when I finish the other half-dozen projects I've got on the needles. *shifty look*

*REVS CHAINSAW*

Experimental sex change time. Back for breakfast.

*EXPLETIVE DELETED*

This "editing" thing is going to take a few passes. At a point that should be no more than, say 40 pages in, I'm on 73. Rrr. This is incredibly frustrating, and eventually, I'm going to need some help. There's murdering your darlings, and then there's butchering them and burying their remains in concrete.

I've got a few ideas as to how to kill space, but it'll take a few polishes. This really sucks. Not enough for me to give up, but I'm seriously considering how much fun can be found in cleaning the litterbox.

In better news, cute baby lions are cute, and Crowley is stretched out in a very overcast sunbeam.

I'll be glad when next week gets here. The Import is off on business again Sunday, so I'll have a few days to just work. I love him to death, but our schedules are so different that it's hard to work around them sometimes.

Oh, this Saturday is WorldWide Knit in Public Day. If you're a knitter, crocheter, or other fibre crafter, either find a KiP on the website, or just take your hobby to the mall or park or other public place and work for a while. I'll be representin' at Woodward Park in Tulsa, OK, if anyone wants to turn up. Look for the obscene amounts of sun-protection gear.

JESUS CHRIST, IT'S A LION! GET IN THE CAR!

I just took a break from editing to let my brain turn to mush over lion cubs. A zoo in Norway has set up a live feed of four cubs (little tinies) and their mother. The cubs are still unsteady, and one toppled on his side as he tried to make it to the pile o' sibs. Mama came over, and now it's time for dinner and a nap. They're. So. CUTE. They even knead mama's belly like a house-kitten.

I want to pet them. At the same time, I want to live, so I shall refrain.

Going to get a little more editing in tonight, then crash. At a point where I'm not entirely sure what to cut. I suppose it'll go away when it needs to.

(Oh, it strikes me that my review of The Winter Prince was a bit incoherent. It's an excellent and unusual retelling of the story of Mordred (Medraut in Welsh) and his place in Arthur's court. There's lots of resentment and quiet intelligence and background evil and sibling rivalry, and it's beautifully constructed and told. I'm a sucker for anything Mordred, and this is one of the better takes I've seen.)

Oh, fu....

I've changed the first paragraph to conform with a major change to the tone of the book. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ohhh, this is going to be interesting.

Editing: A Great Deal, Though Not Exactly, Like Performing Open-Abdominal Surgery On Yourself. *flappy hands of horror*

Four thirty, and all's well.

Don't look at me like that. I fell asleep at 7:00. Naps are the great devourers of schedules.

As soon as I figure out what I'm going to do with one particular character, I'm going to set to the first major incisions on THotE. It needs some pretty serious surgery--we're talking multiple organ transplant serious. It would help if the plot bunnies for my Weird UF Idea would stop chewing my brain like fluffy zombies. At least I've got a good idea of what I'll work on next. Should make the English Import happy. He loves UF, though I'm not sure how he'll take to my particular flavour of Adventure and Magic in the Urban Jungle.

Basically, I'm putting off sleep mk. 2 as long as I can right now because as soon as I wake up, I have to murder my darlings. Long, slow, painful murder. Catharsis is healthy, but it's also gutting. (Note to self: must also buy cat food. And coat hangers. And NOT GET CAUGHT UP IN TIDYING THE CLOSET WHEN THERE IS MURDER TO COMMIT.)

There is a cat making pathetic noises at me, so I'm going to go and check the food bowl, then go to bed.

Oh, another book: I've just finished The Winter Prince, by Elizabeth E. Wein. OMG, I want more. I've already got the other two in the series on order from the library. I want to keep Medraut. As a friend, a pet, a roomie, tied to my bed, I just want to keep him. He needs love! Dearly glad I picked that one up. Thank the Aksum Empire that I found Wein.

ARGHARGHARGH!

Aside from the fact that it's 3:00 and I'm still in my pyjamas, I think I've just created another series. *cue groan* It's practically designing itself. I've got enough to write! Why, brain, why? And it's UF. Weird UF, but UF all the same.

Sigh.

You know that rule that says you can't die until your work is finished? Between writing and knitting, I think I've discovered the secret of immortality. If it weren't three in the afternoon, I'd need a drink.

My only political post until November

*HAPPYDANCE*
*HAPPYDANCE*
*HAPPYDANCE*

OMFG YES! Tonight, I don't even care about things like VP candidates or how dead my legs feel after almost three miles on the bike. MAH CANDIDATE, HE IS TEH CANDIDATE. WOOOOOO!!!! OBAMA! OBAMA! OBAMA!

This has been so much more fun than the 2004 race. Much popcorn was eaten, many nails were bitten, and now the real race heats up.

All right. Now that I've crowed my political leanings to the whole world, I'm gettin' some work done, then goin' to bed.

*GEEKGASM*

Now you too can wear an abacus on your wrist! This is the coolest thing I've seen in ages. I want to make a three-stranded one so I can go into the hundreds. I wonder how much row spacers are going for these days?

Seriously, how cool would it be to have someone say, "Oh, what a pretty bracelet/necklace/whatever!" only for you to use it to calculate the cost of your shopping?

I am such a geek, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.