A Few More Half-Days

The bunnies have grown exceeding bold in the backyard, mostly (I suspect) because with the side-gate closed coyotes can’t get in to hunt overnight. Anyway, yon rabbits are portly, sleek, and seem to enjoy browsing unconcerned just out of Boxnoggin’s leash-reach, leading to quite interesting mornings.

And a bit of a bruise around my middle, where said leash is fastened. Barring a catastrophic failure of buckle, strap, or harness, the bun-buns are safe; if Lord van der Sploot’s energetic bursts when he simply cannot stand it anymore cause some manner of violent separation, well… it won’t be pretty.

The coffee is particularly fine this morning. Perhaps it’s because I finally sat down and totted up all the work done over the past few weeks, and even the Muse is satisfied with the sheer amount, if not the type. She’s busily absorbing all sorts of things from Tennyson and BBC Musketeers; I don’t know what the hell this means but at least we’re both happier now and I can work a couple more half-days in order to recover from… all that.

We’re at (last count) twenty-four re-formats total over the past few months, eighteen of which needed re-edits as well. Not quite a drop in the bucket, but not a majority either; the rest of the backlist requires addressing in various fashion. But for now, this tranche is finished and the individual titles are either re-released (Jake is the most recent) or waiting for covers/final listing tweaks.

Then there were the Sanguinant, which you guys seem to like a lot. I had no idea Ye Olde Vampyre Smutte written basically on a lark (to distract a friend) would be so, erm, to my dear Readers’ tastes. So when the Muse gets shirty with me about not finishing something recently, I can at least point to a giant heap of work before hissing a, “Take your Tennyson, goddammit,” and collapsing on the couch.

Small mercies.

Today is for the weekly subscription drop–the second season of Reader & Shadow is about to get underway–and some (hallelujah!) actual writing. A measly 200 or so words stolen around the edges of other projects was not nearly enough for daily wordcount, nosiree. I know I can’t ramp back up to my usual productivity right away, since my brain is worn down to the strings.

But I can, for the foreseeable future, spend the majority of my working time where I’m happiest. Which is a blessing.

Anyway, today’s coffee is great, I have a bit of administrivia to clear, and all my working ahead might begin to bear fruit in the next month or so. Despite all the horrors, I might be able to spare a wee bit of mildly pleasant anticipation–a helluva boon, considering.

Boxnoggin is embarked on his early morning nap; the moment he hears me finish said caffeine with a sigh he’ll be shaking his collar and lobbying for walkies. In the meantime I have a moment of peace for watching the trees out my office window–every blest one bearing leaves now, no more naked branches–and absorbing what go-juice in what peace I can.

I find myself longing for that exercise, so shall bid you adieu for Thursday.

A (Re-)Released Jake

The wait is (finally) over; Jake (Sons of Ymre #2) is back out in the world!

Jake

Willow Grainger’s skills as a vet tech are always in demand, and animals don’t ask questions—but when a horribly battered man collapses before her one evening, she can’t ignore that kind of distress. Bleeding, nonverbal, and clinging to consciousness, he’s pursued by the same shadowy menace that has hunted Will all her life…and now, that evil is chasing them both.

Jacob’s mind is a wasteland, his body isn’t far behind, and he’s escaped the Mad God’s minions. His savior isn’t just a woman but an angel—more than that, a potential, invaluable in a war he barely remembers fighting. His memory unreliable and his instincts hair-trigger murderous, he has no problem violently protecting Willow or taking her on the run.

Chased by nightmarish monsters, forced into unwilling alliance, Will and Jacob have no-one to trust but each other. But then the Sons of Ymre find them, and the real danger begins…

Available at Bookshop, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, and Amazon. Paperback available at independent bookstores, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon.

The writing soundtrack for the first two Ymre books, if you’re interested, is here.

Long-time readers will remember how annoyed I was with this particular character while writing Erik; I promised my editor he’d get the next book (being a Younger, as Erik is an Elder) and furthermore vowed that I would get him stabbed, shot, or bitten in the ass, as many times as I possibly could.

So I did. Heh.

Being inside Jake’s head during his redemption arc was reasonably satisfying, and during the course of the story he suffered an appropriate amount. While re-editing and formatting for re-release, I was looking for places I could get his backside shot afresh… but he didn’t seem to deserve it, and anyway there wasn’t room. So there’s only the initial amount of, er, butt-biting in this one.

Trust me, it’s quite enough especially since he gets stabbed with a gurney in the very beginning. Now that was fun.

I did manage to stuff in a few more Cthulhu references as well, just for good measure.

Anyway, the original plan was for a trilogy, since Sons move in threes–Father, Elder, Younger. Unfortunately the publisher closed down before the third and final book, which was written at that point, could be released through them–that’s Nigel, which will (ta-da!) arrive next month.

So not only is today a re-release day, but I’ll be celebrating getting a big, final-for-now chunk of backlist re-formatted. Yesterday was a doozy, spent in a fugue state–but now I’m not the logjam in the process. My part is the most labour-intensive save for covers, which on the books I finished re-formatting yesterday are Someone Else’s Problem.

Now the Muse won’t have any cause for complaint, since it’s back to doing what we both prefer. But first, a day off is in order–or at least a half day, my gods, please and thank you. I have a mighty need to ramble, to dream, and to provide some creative fuel while the flywheel in my head bleeds off momentum.

I just have to clear my inbox first, then walk the dog, run my own shambling corpse, and hyperventilate into a paper bag since it’s a re-release, instead of the usual bucket for first-time release days. The nerves aren’t so bad, though bad enough and worn down to the weft by the sheer amount of work I’ve done in the past few weeks.

I’ll get started finishing this coffee, in somewhat leisurely fashion. Only somewhat, though.

The Muse is itchy.

Mild and Plebeian Dream

An extremely sunny weekend, and I have once again borrowed trouble by working straight through. Hopefully the next Saturday-Sunday will see the rest of these re-formats cleared; the only ones left are those I have decided not to re-edit.

The urge to pick at things is only sometimes useful.

Regardless, I’m happy with the effort spent. And tomorrow is the Jake re-release! It feels like I just started doing the re-formats, but here we are with some out already–most of the Ymre series (Nigel is all-new, not a re-release), the Society series, Hell’s Acre, Viral Agents, Taken, and now Bannon & Clare are working their way through the preorder process.

Whew. Looking over that list, no wonder I’m a bit pale around the gills.

Once I finish this final push, maybe I can finally get back to the work I want to be doing. Who would’ve thought writing involved so much damn publishing? Yes, yes, I know. I’m still cackling; it’s either that or scream.

Honestly, with this amount of re-edit/re-format work, it’s almost like finishing a few new books in a row. (Almost.) And the current remainder, which do not get a re-edit at this time, can simply stand as indications of the baby writer I once was. If I ever feel like a re-do, I know where they live.

The end goal, of course, is being able to run price drops and marketing on a big chunk of backlist more coherently, so maybe I can survive/pay bills to write a little more. The entire world seems to be conspiring against that rather mild and plebeian dream, yet I persevere. Sometimes, whilst fantasizing, I even think longingly about subrights sales.

Anyway, lilacs are now blooming everywhere, which is quite pleasant–I even found a lovely blossom-laden bush I didn’t suspect on our usual walkies route, which just goes to show that even passing along the same sidewalks for multiple years can lead to surprises. It’s the season of having to put my hair up even for ambles, too, though that only cuts down on the amount of stuff stuck in the strands. Yesterday, there was a whole-ass fir cone, don’t ask me, I don’t know. And also yesterday a bee tried to climb up my nose–another indication, if needed, that spring is irreversible.

I did dream of a late-April snowstorm last night, but thankfully that seems mere anxiety. Especially since the dream also involved trying to do laundry while people kept moving the damn washer around between loads. The brain doing its own housecleaning, I suppose; I hope everything’s filed correctly in the ol’ grey matter now.

Anyway, if I clear a chunk of re-format work today I will reward myself–and the Muse–with a block of time solely for City Knight. She does not like that I have put things off, even if the shape of every project on a back boiler gets clearer with every day spent simmering. I will have to bribe her with so much well-filling; no worries, though, I have a sekrit weapon in my back pocket which should do.

Once I get these last re-formats cleared, that is. *sigh*

I could natter on a bit more but the coffee needs drinking, Boxnoggin is eager for a bit of rambling, and my inbox is already afire. Monday beckons–or rather, has me by the scruff and is dragging, as my heels scrape the floor.

Might as well go along.

Road Camellia

Wandering towards spring’s end

The camellias are in that funny in-between place, fresh blooms and swollen hips on the same bush, drifts of rotting blossom at their feet along with beautiful whole flowers shaken free by recent heavy rain, last year’s distressed leaves shed with a soft farewell.

Boxnoggin, of course, likes the pile of wet, rotting stuff. To judge by his expression as he huffs, that’s the good stuff.

The (re-edited and re-formatted) Society series buy links should all be active now, I’m hard at work on other re-releases. Yesterday’s subscription drop went well, Serial Time and Nest Egg subscribers have access to their ebook goodie. I had a very nice podcast interview (the link will arrive later) with pleasant people, and the concomitant social anxiety afterward. (Brainweasels do not stop.)

And I woke up this morning absolutely convinced it was Saturday. The calendar is doing me no favours this week, but at least I wasn’t outright late to anything.

Small mercies.

There’s coffee to finish, the dog to walk, my own corpse to shamble, and a giant load of work to clear before I can get back to doing terrible things to characters. I suppose I ought to give a cruel chuckle, and begin.

See you next week.

Haphazardly Mollified

The Muse is furious at me, though I think I’ve managed to shift most of her ire to characters. She does have a point–all the reversions mean I’m working on stuff other than what we both want. And it doesn’t help that the last big lump of them (for a while) landed in my lap yesterday.

Apparently my working ahead has provoked others into doing so as well. The bright side is, these books are either more recent so I won’t have to do a great deal of cleanup… or they are the sort I can let stand as the writer I once was.

Of course if one looks at something written six months ago and doesn’t immediately roll up one’s sleeves muttering “all right, let’s clean this a bit”, it’s a bad sign. Fortunately I am not yet there, though I am blinking and wondering what the hell as the coffee sinks in.

Today is a subscription drop–Serial Time and Nest Egg subscribers get their ebooks of Reader & Shadow‘s (unedited) first season–and next week’s re-release (Jake) lurches ever nearer. I’m waiting for Bannon & Clare proof paperbacks to arrive so I can do final tweaks on those (I really like the new covers), and buy links for the Society series re-release are propagating.

The Muse is only haphazardly mollified by shiny new links and scheduling; she wants to get the rock band out of the cathedral, the intro chapters to the serial’s second season done, and oh yes, there’s the gory quasi-vampire fight in Innkeeper’s War that’s been hanging in stasis for some while.

Dawn keeps getting earlier and earlier. The season of glare approaches; my gods I need more caffeine. I also have to see if we’ve a DVD of In the Mood For Love, since it’s the weekly movie night and I’m needing some Wong Kar-Wai.

And Boxnoggin will be energetic for today’s walkies. Yesterday there was a great deal of rain, and he flatly refused to go any further than moderately downhill. Of course he got towel-scrubbins, obedience work, and treats afterward, so he was exercised enough, but he has a particular glint in his eye at the moment. When, that is, said eye peeks out from under his early morning nap lids.

Guess I ought to get going. Just let me finish the last half of my coffee, please. I need a breath before the acceleration hits.

As Promised, All Metaphor

It’s always something, in publishing. No book (or series) gets through the process without at least one “why is this a problem, jeez” moment. Am currently experiencing the moment for the Bannon & Clare re-release; fortunately it’s mild, as such things go. I may simply let it work itself out, or I could go with the nuclear option.

I will not decide, even provisionally, until I’ve at least finished coffee.

Faint pink dawn blurs to the east. Boxnoggin was deeply nonplussed at being taken out just as rain started, but naturally he wouldn’t simply do his business so we could return inside. No, the entire yard must be canvassed and a couple irreverent bunnies lunged at. When we finally did make it back inside he huffed, shook himself off as if telling me off, and went back to nesting on my bed.

Must be nice.

Yesterday I cleared scheduled work as promised, and for once had planned the timeframe to a fare-thee-well. It was still inordinately difficult to rip myself from the keyboard and take the rest of the afternoon off, as I had also promised.

I persevered, with the help of a hardback and an edible. It’s anyone’s guess which helped more.

In any case, now another couple of books are ready for re-release. I shouldn’t have to look over more re-formats until next month, so there’s that, at least. My internal flywheel seems to have reached a proper speed for hitching to a new set of projects, after the massive effort that was getting the Bannon & Clares re-done; if I’ve planned correctly we should slide into the next round of writing with only a token bump as the hitching changes over.

Of course that’s all metaphor, but absolutely works so far as it goes.

Around and about we go. I hear a lot of you are liking Fledgling & Archon, which pleases me greatly. I’m super glad you’re enjoying the experience; it was a lot of fun to write. I’m also hearing from some fanficcers, which is lovely, but do remember that for legal and ethical reasons I can’t read your efforts. Go, fly, be free, and know you have my blessing!

Now I must embark upon Tuesday. I’m already in wibbly-wobbly time since working through the weekend, half-days notwithstanding, but honestly I’ve been in temporal flux for years now. The feeling’s at least familiar. And Boxnoggin will be lobbying for walkies soon; if the rain continues, he will be surprised by it again when I open the back door. A creature of little memory, is our dear Box.

Who knows? It might even be a blessing…

Halves Have To Do

Monday has begun in the usual fashion–Boxnoggin dragging me through predawn ferns, then I scared myself thinking it was a week later than the actual date. Then, of course, the coffee almost boiled all over the new range. Fortunately matters were resolved just in time, but those latter two were a pair of cardiac events I didn’t need. Golly.

I did spend the weekend working, sure, which probably explains things. But I knocked off early on Sunday. That’s gotta count, right?

Right?

Anyway, another couple of reverted titles have been (mostly) re-formatted; I spent the last couple days doing proofing of said re-formats and only have a wee bit left to finish today before sending them back. These ones I’m not doing entirely myself, which is a gat-damn blessing. I plan on clearing the last bits, getting them back in the barrel, then maybe playing with a bit of City Knight–we’ve reached the cathedral, and now the portal-fantasy rock band is going to get their Big Quest–before taking another half-day off.

I know I ought to take an entire day, but who’s got time for that? Halves will have to do.

I did get a chance to finish John Carreyrou’s Bad Blood, about the Theranos grift. It’s an absolute corker of a read; my daughter, who brought the HBO documentary on the whole affair to our household’s Weekly Movie Night lately, got the audiobook from the library and told me the story was even wilder. Naturally I had to see for myself, and dear gods.

The text is deceptively easy to absorb–Carreyrou is a good, clear writer, naturally–which somewhat underlines the absolute bonkers events at every turn. It’s very much a real-life thriller, and by the time the author himself shows up in the narrative, one is rather relieved that the gumshoe has arrived, so to speak. I was reading in the living room Sunday late-afternoon while my daughter made enchiladas for dinner, and I kept yelling bits of what was happening in the book; she would yell back, “OH I KNOW, ISN’T IT WILD? DID YOU GET TO X PART YET? TELL ME WHEN YOU DO!”

The library ebook had an epilogue covering the court case(s), as well, which the audiobook hadn’t had, so I was able to give her the rundown on that. My son, who watched the documentary with us, says it sounds like a Folding Ideas deep-dive (one of the highest compliments he can give), and maybe he’ll check out the audiobook. Which my daughter and I both encouraged, because wow. Just… wow.

Anyway, that was well worth the price of admission, as we say around the Chez. I am also a wee bit comforted by the thought that someone out there (probably Ed Zitron) will be able to release a commensurate volume on the whole OpenAI/Anthropic/slop machine grift someday.

Dawn is mostly accomplished and the coffee is cooling; if I’m to take a half-day I’d best get started soonish. Boxnoggin’s in fine fettle, so walkies will no doubt be an Event. And I am longing to write the “these re-formats are finished, slam ’em into the pipeline” email.

Off I go.