Companion to Day Fifty-Five: Daylight preview
I didn’t sleep or eat.
The kids patrolled the streets, mockingly calling for me. ‘Come out, come out, Ulandin. Captain wants to see you.’
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Here’s a random post from the upcoming twittertale, “Daylight” (humour) beginning October 2.
My name’s Bell. I considered being EMO once, but then I saw a pretty butterfly and got over myself. Got bored and decided to save the world.
Taking a holiday TO reality
Drugs are great.
I don’t take them regularly because:
(a) They push me over that line into the “overweight” range.
(b) NOT taking drugs gives me something to fall back on when things are worse than usual.
(c) It’s really difficult to get off drugs once you’ve been on them for a few months.
I’ve taken half a zoloft each day since Tuesday, and am really enjoying my visit to rational-land. I wouldn’t quite describe myself as chipper (although I am suddenly able to enjoy things like sunshine, food, etc) but I’m myself. No violent impulses at all, which is certainly nice. Especially for my poor beloved laptop (oh, and my husband).
Still no publisher news.
I wrote a short story yesterday (yay), which those of you on my “Felicitations” list will probably see before the end of the year.
(The “Felicitations” email list gets a free short-short story at the beginning of each month. If you want to join, email fellissimo(at)hotmail(dot)com.)
The infamous Ana decided to attack the pegs on my clothes horse (which is inside due to dust still in the air). I whipped out a camera and she immediately did this. . .
My other cat, Indah, maintained her dignity as per usual:
Companion to Day Fifty-Four: Females at Sea Part 2
‘Kid, what’s your name?’ I asked.
‘Hin.’
‘Take a message. Tell Oldy to draw Sol away from here – somehow.’
Hin ran straight to Sol.
I fled.
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The following story is PROBABLY not true. . . but it isn’t definitely NOT true (historians argue about it, so it must be at least slightly plausible). There are certain eerie similarities between this tale and my own (I discovered Princess Awilda less than a week ago).
In the fifth century, Princess Awilda escaped an arranged marriage to the Prince of Denmark by taking some of her best buddies (all girls), stealing a ship, and heading off into the Baltic Sea.
That’s where the girls ran into some pirates. The fight raged for four days, and at the end Princess Awilda became Captain Awilda – the pirate. The remaining pirates were quite happy with this arrangement, and all went well until the slighted King of Denmark and his rejected son caught up with them. Captain Awilda’s pirates (and all her bestest friends) were defeated.
Which would make it a sad ending – except Awilda was so impressed with her fiance’s mad fighting skills she decided she wanted to marry him. By all accounts they lived happily ever after.
Oh, and she became Queen of Denmark.
Nerds of Today
A twelve-year old student recently asked me what my favourite TV show is. After THOROUGHLY discarding “The United States of Tara” (too much sex), “Being Human” (too much violence), “Bones” (too much gore) and “Buffy” (too old for today’s kids) I said, “The Big Bang Theory”.
“I don’t watch that one. What’s it about?” she said.
Breathing a little easier (since the Big Bang TALKS about sex so much), I said, “It’s about a group of nerds. It’s really funny, because it’s so much like my nerdy friends.”
This was the point at which the difference in our generations and social context became abruptly clear.
“Oh,” she said, “that’s a bit mean, isn’t it? Calling your friends nerds?”
I tried to gently explain that
(a) all my friends KNOW they’re nerds
(b) all my friends PREFER the company of other nerds
(c) all my friends are PROUD of being nerds
(d) I am a nerd
It was clear she didn’t believe me. She assured me I wasn’t really a nerd, and I took it as a compliment. Clearly, the discussion was causing her deep confusion bordering on distress. I could see her wondering why I’d make such an apalling claim to nerdity.
“Am I a nerd?” she said.
“No,” I said. “Absolutely not.”
She was terribly relieved, and we continued with our lesson.
Companion to Day Fifty-Three: Females at Sea Part 1
Sol ordered a throne of gold, and we made it. ‘Bring me a slaver,’ she said. We brought one – and she stabbed him.
Sol killed, and killed again. No one seemed to know why any more. Bile rose in my throat. Oldy remained at the ship, so I was alone.
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Today’s female at sea is the historical individual Ann Mills. She served on the frigate Maidstone in 1740, and managed not to become a pirate – just a sailor and soldier. A picture of the time shows an artist’s version of her, and it’s pretty. . . exciting.
“The engraving depicts a female sailor standing at the edge of a wooden pier with her back against the sea. She wears a military hat and jacket, a cravat tucked into a buttoned waistcoat, and a skirt that may easily be mistaken for a fanciful pair of trousers. In her right hand, she brandishes a naked cutlass, and dangling from her left is the decapitated head of a Frenchman, which she holds out as a trophy of her valour in combat.”
Girls just wanna have fun.
Losing It
I mentioned in “A Day” that I’d had some violent urges. On Friday (the day after that entry), when a number of things went wrong at once, I threw my laptop down the stairs. Also, my husband was coming up the stairs at the time (coming to help me, in fact).
My laptop is my most precious possession – it has ALL my writing on it (mostly backed up, but still). My husband is my favourite person ever.
I’ve never done anything that could harm a person before – or anything that I thought was likely to harm an object (not even a plate, which I believe is traditional).
I always get about half a second of rational thinking in moments like this. All I managed to think was, “This is bad. Throw slowly, and try not to hit him.”
I didn’t hit him – my husband actually moved in front of my bag and stopped it with his foot. He certainly didn’t feel threatened. My laptop (in its padded laptop bag) was fine too. But saying “it’s all good” would be wildly innaccurate.
It’s bizarre and frightening that I would actually throw something – especially my beloved laptop – at a person. It’s weird and embarassing that the underlying cause of my current stress is that a publisher is taking a long time to reply (which is a good sign – but one I’ve had almost twenty times before). It just isn’t a good reason for me to find myself so far over the edge. (On the other hand, like many other writers, I’ve been working toward a big break for over a decade.)
Nonetheless, here I am. There’s a good chance the publisher will reply today or tomorrow. I guarantee I’ll feel better when they do, even if it’s a rejection (that’s just how I roll, people). In the meantime I’m wandering around the house resisting the urge to scream and punch things, and I’ll probably stay that way a few days.
I’d better take me some happy pills tomorrow.
Companion to Day Fifty-Two: Pictures!
My illustrator has done more work for us! If you can rewind a bit in your head, please do so. Otherwise, scroll down a bit to Friday’s “Story so Far” companion and you can see them in context.
I saw girls playing on a beach as we drew close. ‘Let’s attack some other island,’ I said hastily. ‘People with kids never have much loot.'
Sol saw kids in a corner and had me take them outside. Once they were safe, we burned their home too. The night sky turned grey with smoke.
The lovely Mel (aka The Illustrator) is found on deviant art under the handle veleven.
Companion to Day Fifty-One: Multiple Choice
All the guards went to save their homes. We anchored off-shore.
The guards returned black-faced with ash and rage.
‘Tomorrow,’ said Sol.
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What happens tomorrow?
a) It’s Sol’s seventeenth birthday!
b) Sol decides she’s has enough of this island and they sail away.
c) Wacky hijinks ensue.
d) Summer Glau shows up and FIGHTS EVERYONE! YAY!
e) The killing begins.
f) Ulandin wears a dress.
g) The island votes Sol in as their queen.
h) Sol’s magic causes an earthquake. Everyone dies.
i) Ulandin and Sol marry and live happily ever after.
j) Some combination of the above, eg Sol and Summer Glau fight, then everyone dies.
Publishers
Okay, still haven’t heard back from any of the three publishers that have full manuscripts of mine right now. Two of them are now on “any day now” status.
I know I mentioned at least one by name in previous posts. That wasn’t a “name and shame” thing, it was simply information for other writers about what the query process always involves (waiting, then more waiting). My two favourite publishers are Allen & Unwin and Harper Collins, because both have given me free editorial advice (which is VERY rare, mainly because quite a few egomaniac authors insist on flaming anyone that dares say their book isn’t perfect).
Now obviously two of my current potential publishers are deeply late. Yes it makes me angry and freaks me out (did I mention I’m mentally ill?), but the rational bits of me understand that the reason they’re late is because they’re seriously considering my work – which is very brave of them, since (a) most of the world has no clue who I am, (b) I’ve approached them more or less off the street (via a competition in Harper Collins’ case), and (c) the likelihood is that even if they say yes to me they’ll end up making a loss overall (not because my books are bad, but because that’s a statistical fact).
I sent a gentle reminder email to one a couple of weeks ago, and not only did they reply that day, they replied (and were therefore still clearly at work) at 9pm at night.
Publishers – every single one I’ve ever dealt with – deserve all the pity and all the praise they get (and none of the spite, hate mail, or suspicion).
They are always late – always (unless your book is a terribly easy “no” decision) – because they are massively overworked, and because they care about doing a difficult job right.
Companion to Day Fifty: Free Story
The horizon was red with fire, and the air tasted bitter with smoke. Our kids came back from their missions grinning and scorched.
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In honour of International Talk Like A Pirate Day, here’s a story for ye. . .
It takes place a lot of years after “Worse Things Happen at Sea”, and is 2500 words long.
“Sol and the Sea-Serpent”
***For reasons of publication-ability, you’ll have to email me to get the story. fellissimo(at)hotmail(dot)com***
Felicity Banks 