This month’s theme is
Libraries and Librarians
Things marked with a * are free for everyone to read.
I’ve been thinking about audience lately.
So some of what I’ve been thinking is how things like Rin & Girey started out as this entirely self-indulgent story, and how now it’s one of my most in-depth worlds (Addergoole/Fae Apoc is THE most in depth, but that’s because of the serials) (Then again, Reiassan has a conlang and Fae Apoc only has a few con letters).
And you know “I am not the audience for this” is totally fine, and I have to remember that. (Like one time I left romance out of an entire storyline because one person had said they didn’t want romance, and then it turned out they didn’t even read that story…)
And that’s a weird balance.
Like, I am not sure I will ever be comfortable just writing things because I want to see them. A thing here and there, sure. But not like, as a rule.
On the other hand, I have to remember that I can’t please all of the people all of the time, and that trying is likely to just give me a migraine and make me cry.
I don’t have any real conclusions here yet, just thinking about that balance. It can’t always be bondage catgirls in space; it also can’t always be ace aro mysteries with pretty magic. I’d get bored, and so would y’all.
…Speaking of bored, how do niche authors keep from getting bored? Money?
Who knew demolition could be so much fun?
Oh, man, I’m having a blast tearing things apart.
(Ask me again when we get to the insulation, but for now…)
BANG! There goes another piece of drywall.
BAMMMM! There goes a cross piece!
Bang bang bang! Continue reading
Spring is coming! Dun-dun-dun.
I know this because the calendar says so, even if what the yard says is “hey, have another two inches of snow, since you haven’t had any in a whole day and a half.”
My yard is very helpful like that! Continue reading
This morning, around 6 a.m., I woke up to a silent house, a blank display on my alarm clock, and a cold nose.
Last night, while we were making dinner, I got the robo-call telling me that my university job (which “never closes” and has closed twice in the two winters I’ve worked there) was closed today.
I got out of bed, encouraged the fire, grabbed my phone, made sure it was on airplane (we don’t get cell service here in the boonies and it just kills the batteries), and went back to bed.
It’s noon now, and the power is still out. So’s the landline, so I can’t – without walking out into the middle of the street and praying – call NYSEG to find out how long they assume the power will be out.
I made House Thorne oatmeal on the wood stove, and T. made drip?? coffee with a filter stand. We had toast – I finished a loaf of bread last night – at noon, and we’ve got water for tea heating up on the stove. It’s 74F in the living room, 69F in the next room over, and probably 65,64F in the kitchen (we don’t have a thermometer in there). So we’re in pretty good shape.
Of course, we’re in The Rather Rural, so we don’t have running water, which is a bit of a pain. I “took a bath” by heating water (on the wood stove again) and sitting in front of the stove to shave and such things. It helped, but it’s no proper shower. And we might be out of gallons of water sitting around by the time the power comes back on – but that’s what they’re for, so hey.
It’s kind of nice, in a “I miss my internet people and I can’t play with my dragons and what happens when my laptop loses power” sort of way. It’s quiet – “too quiet” – since there’s no fans, no furnace, no traffic, nothing but the wind and the water heating on the stove, T. talking to himself and reading the book out loud on occasion.
It’s the weird feeling, of “we’ve got this” combined with “but…” Mostly “but” being that “I miss my people and I really want a shower” sort of way.
Also, I’m not 100% sure what we’ll have for dinner, but I have a feeling it will involve rice, be cooked on the wood stove, and hopefully not involve opening the fridge or freezer.
Well, at least work is closed and I don’t have to worry about calling in. 😊
This is, more or less, just a little babbling about my kitty.
We have a feral cat.
I mean, she says that all the time. “I’m feral! Zoom!” and she runs all the way up the stairs. “I’m feral! Oh no!” Zip, under the bed.
She’s really sure she’s a wild feral cat.
You know, like “here’s the WWI Ace Fighter Pilot…” Yeah.
We got her from outside, where she was semi-feral, a barn kitten from down the road who had been eating out of our compost bin.
T. took months of feeding her and coaxing her closer, until she was willing to let him handle her.
Then we shoved her in a carrier and left her at the vets for three days.
That was four years ago.
When I tell her “Merit, Nap time!” She comes and jumps up on me on the couch and sleeps on my hip/stomach.
When I go to bed, she sleeps to the left of me; when I wake up, she’s either on me or tucked against my right side. T. taught her to cuddle for food and now, when she’s hungry in the middle of the day, she will jump up on his lap and nap there for a little while.
She still says she’s feral, but you can pick her up without any complaint, she tolerates brushing and likes petting, and she talks to you when you ignore her.
(also, she yells at you when you sneeze).
DialMforMara suggested that I blog about plants, and here I am.
I bury my toes in loam-dark soil;
I walk barefoot through the dirt my ancestors farmed.
That is the part I easily remember of a poem I wrote in high school, when the assignment was roots.
Yeah, but it took me more than 20 more years to really internalize why my ethnic heritage – German on my mother’s side – was something we never really talked about. And on my father’s side I was Good Old Mutt, so my roots were, well. Farming.
My pen name is a tree.
If you look at my twitter, my background image is a vineyard.
When I dream of going home, I dream about my grandparents’ home, the old farmhouse, or gardening with my grandma.
I like things with very deep roots. Old things with their structure going way down. I like things with their feet buried in the soil and their arms lifted up to the sky.
Well! I haven’t done a what’s-Lyn-Doing blog post in quite a while! Boring life, ey?
(I suppose after a summer of MRIs, spinal taps, blood draws, funerals, babies (other people’s) and major home renovation, anything would seem a little boring).
So, what have I been up to? What have YOU been up to?
Knitting, knitting, knitting. I knit my mom and dad each scarflets for Christmas, knit a sleeveless jacket and a hat for Eclipse Viking Baby Capriox. I joined a knit-a-long and am working very slowly on a large asymmetrical triangular shawl, and I am almost done with Secret Project One and about to start on Secret Project Two. Winter is good for knitting!
We were 1/2 of the way through installing new under-cabinet/over-sink LED motion-activated-switch lights 2 weekends ago – and then we realized we had no 1/2″ drill bit. *facepalm* So now we have a bit and it’s too cold to go out to the garage. Soon! Then the dishes and our new sink and awesome new faucet – and dishwasher! (it was a busy summer)- will be illuminated.
Oh, and we got a door and a front wall of sorts on the bathroom before we had company overnight back in the beginning of December. And half the ceiling. Maybe we’ll get the other half of the ceiling done tomorrow!
I live! I have new drugs which are jabbity once every two weeks and sort of make me feel like crap for a little bit afterwards. But they should, ah, stop a repeat of this summer, hopefully! (The bad part with the big needles, not the good part with the home renovations).
I think the weather is trying to kill us.
I mean, I live on the North Coast; that’s kind of a given.
Yesterday it dropped /twenty degrees F/ in /two hours/. And then is continuing to drop steadily an average of 1 degree an hour from 5 pm yesterday until about sunrise tomorrow.
Thursday and Friday the high was in the fifties F. Today it’s 11.
How about you?
Keeping warm? Crafting? Writing? Arting? Healthy? Homed? Continue reading
Happy 2018, everyone!
May it give us what we want and may we have the strength to reach for our goals.
May it throw us no curveballs we can’t handle and may we handle those we’re thrown with grace.
May we hear opportunity when it knocks and not hide under the bed.
💛 💚 💙 💜 ❤️