Okay, Internets!
I have to go away for just a little bit.
It's not you, it's me. Honest.
(Although while I'm away, by all means feel free to examine your constant, compulsive need to try and sell me things.)
Promise I'll come home all bouncy and refreshed and full of renewed appreciation for all things hot-shower and electronic-related. Perhaps in return you could think about that new world order Tessa requested? There has been alarmingly little raspberry jam of late.
Good news, landing just before I flit off to lands untrammelled, is that PodCastle will be publishing "The Wages of Salt" in an upcoming issue.
So, if you never did manage to track down a copy of PostScripts #18, or if you did but you'd also like an audio copy of the story, keep your eye on the PodCastle site.
Yay for the little story that could!
I hate packing. But after a day at it, I have shoved most everything I'll need into the rucksack. I'll have to wear my hiking boots onto the plane, and carry my warm jacket, and clearly I'm not buying ANYTHING while I'm away because there isn't a skerrick of unused space in said rucksack,1 but by and large it's done.
No doubt I'll spend the next few days unpacking and repacking in a vain attempt to jettison something, because that's normally how I roll.
The only major task outstanding is take notes on the faerie novel, and on the latest novel premise,2 in case I want to write and/or brainstorm, respectively, while I'm away. (For a while there I toyed with the clearly insane idea of bringing a print-out of the faerie novel with me to Mongolia. Luckily, space considerations rank higher in my head than even my panicked work ethic, so at home the novel entire shall stay.)
In lieu of content, I offer you a photo my friend took in Christchurch Cathedral at Oxford Uni:
all that time and effort and money invested in the headstone, scrapped, just because you forgot an 'S'? i don't think so!
Dear Australian Dollar: Yeah, thanks. Really.
I hate foreign currency. Estimating how much I'll need, trying to figure out ways to access it while I'm away, and then the whole debacle that is changing from one currency to another just so that I can change to yet another currency in a few more days. Not to mention the fact that the US dollar, the ugliest monopoly money on the face of the planet, always gets up and kicks the Aussie dollar's backside precisely when I need to actually buy some. It's just such a damned hassle all 'round.
Travelling with ATM cards &c is, as far as I'm concerned, bloody brilliant. If only I chose to visit countries that had, you know, ATMs, I'd be set.
7 sleeps to go.
Sometime last year, my bank (in a fit of promotional madness) sent me a couple of free movie tickets. I can't remember why — I think I answered a survey or some such inanity. Anyway, not the point. The point is that the free movie tickets were for Greater Union cinemas, of which Melbourne has exactly … one. Which I simply never get to.
Yesterday, determined not to waste a free movie ticket, and being near town, and having wanted vaguely to see Iron Man 2, I redeemed one of the free tickets.
Which is how I found myself in a darkened room with a blank cinema screen, alone but for one other man.
Said man was eating popcorn, ostensibly. Well, in fact, he was eating it quite frantically. I have never in my life seen anyone attack a bucket of popcorn with such frenzy. I soon figured out why.
Eating the popcorn was covering (or, in point of fact, significantly failing to cover)1 the sounds of his real purpose in sitting in the back of a darkened, ill-frequented cinema. Namely a little bit of quality time with Mrs Palmer and her five daughters, as it were.
I wish I was kidding at this point. But alas, there is a distinct and unmistakable quality to the breathing of a person who is, shall we say, rather focussed on achieving an imminent outcome. And that grunting and groaning was not about clearing his throat of popcorn kernels.
Thankfully, I was out of the splatter zone, and he didn't stay to watch (and ruin) the movie.2 Here's hoping that redeeming the second free ticket is not quite so eventful, eh?
Today's blog post was going to be about finally wrangling that (currently) most stubborn of stubborn short stories into shape. Unfortunately, today involved illness, and the story didn't get any less stubborn by my putting it aside in favour of sleep, so I am unable to report as planned.
I can tell you that daytime soaps have not changed since the last time I snoozed through them. I'm betting this won't come as a surprise to anyone.
Instead I will share with you that today, I did something astonishing: I decided to not finish a book that I'm not enjoying.1 I don't know why I'm compelled to read a book through to completion regardless of how much I dislike it. Is it stubbornness? Is it a perverse streak? Is it hope that the book may, just may, turn itself around and do something brilliant? Is it guilt, that the author will find out and I'll break their heart?
Whatever the reason, I begin to suspect there are better uses for my time. So here goes to a new me, a me who can put a book down partway through.
I have 98 AA batteries for the trip to Mongolia. They may well take up the majority of my baggage weight allowance. The perils of trying to calculate how many batteries you'll need to see you through 3 weeks of a potentially avid photography spree.
I've also spent the weekend collating all the medicinal and toiletry stuffs I'll need. I'm a shampoo and toothbrush kind of girl, mostly, but travel to remoter places always requires so much more. First aid kits, emergency antibiotic kits, emergency contact lens solutions, stuff I'll hopefully never need but have to take anyway. My toiletries may well take up the majority of my baggage volume. Once I shove a sleeping bag and sleeping mat in there, I'm not actually sure there'll be any room left for, yanno, clothes.
I see a slight flaw in my packing plans.
This weekend also saw an email from my ASIM editor bearing news. Blog readers blessed with an eidetic memory will have noticed that the April 2010 publication date of the ASIM #45, the issue to feature my story, "Shaping Lily", has been and gone.
Apparently this is because the issue preceding it is running late, and thus we wait. However there is talk afoot of staging a revolution, in which case #45 will be published first. Nothing concrete yet on that front; I mention it now only in case it does happen, and the issue gets published while I'm away fleeing bubonic marmots, and you are all left unawares. So, consider yourselves suitably aware'd.
I have saved a life. When my cousin leant too far over the edge of the pool in an attempt to examine the jet nozzle and fell in, I was the only one who noticed, and I was the one who pulled her out.1
I am addicted to telling stories — and because I therefore practise it all the time, I am developing a knack for it.
I see no difference between Art and Science, and find my brain lends itself to each of these allegedly dichotomous fields equally. I can talk about stellar nucleosynthesis, the way electrons move around the nucleus, or the intricacies of plot, pacing, characterisation and metaphor. Apparently this makes me a bit of a rare creature.
I get frightened. All the fucking time. By big things and little things, rational things and irrational things. Some times I let it stop me from doing what I want to do — but even then, not forever. Far as I can tell, this makes me brave.
I am loyal — to a heartbreaking fault. I am whimsical. I am plinean in my passions — but you have to do something spectacularly offensive before I'll take it out on you, or even so much as point it out to you, even if you deserved it long ago.
I have been betrayed, and let down, and lied to — and though it has made me a little warier, still I choose to believe there are people worth trusting. I even choose to believe there are people worth taking risks on.
And the absolute last thing I want to do is publish this post — because that's how deep the awesome-killing patriarchy is ingrained in my thought patterns — which is precisely why I am going to publish it.
I? Am awesome.
This post inspired by the most awesome Karen Healey. Go, read her posts, and if you, like me, have a habit of biting your tongue or putting yourself down, or editing your thoughts to make sure they're socially acceptable, tell me why you're awesome. Without editing.
Let me state for the record that a "windproof" umbrella is simply a lightning rod that is just as likely to turn inside out and nine times as likely to stab you in the eye with a prong as it pretends to valiantly not turn inside out. There's no win here.
But! On to more important matters. Namely, the cover art for Shadow Bound, in proper-sized glory!
If you look closely (click the pic to enlarge) you'll see that the back of Matilde's dress features Matilde in a couple of other poses — those poses being the proposed covers for the first book, which I think is a neat trick for tying the covers together.
Also, after a quick chat to Allen & Unwin people today, there should also be a giveaway in the offing around publication date, so if you're interested in scoring a free copy, stay tuned.
And finally for today, I've had a few requests lately regarding getting a hold of a review copy of Shadow Bound. An early copy? I hear you ask. DEB, HOW CAN I GET AN EARLY COPY?
Let me tell you!
First, I, being the author, am not the best person to contact — Allen & Unwin have control and final say over review copies. So if you have a book blog, for example, or you review books in some other format, you should contact Allen & Unwin directly with your request.
Now, I can't promise that asking will automatically guarantee you a copy. Your best bet is to give them some evidence of the reach and/or potential impact on the market your review can have. I will say that A&U are a lovely and accommodating bunch of people, so you just might get lucky.
And people, did I mention that the light this morning was absolutely breathtaking? I didn't? Here, let me show you:
In travel news, I appear to be enduring that pre-travel period which involves the haemorrhaging of money. I don't like this bit so much.
On the other hand, great advancements in travel preparations were made today, including taking delivery of my brand new camera. Which I don't know how to drive yet. But time and tide &c — just as I finished shoving the batteries and memory card into place, 2010's Zombie Shuffle staggered past.
They were moving pretty fast, for zombies, and there was an awful lot of them this year, and did I mention I don't know how to drive my new camera yet? But I thought I'd post up a couple (or, um, ten) of my favourite shots.
I love, love, love this photo. My favourite snaps of the day pretty much all centre around zombies who've let their guard down momentarily.
Such as this fellow. The happiest zombie of the day.
This one I love because there's a terrified civilian trapped in the midst of the brain-eating glee.
