14/11/10

madrobins: It's a meatloaf.  Dressed up like a bunny.  (Default)
I have been scanning my first book to put up on Book View Cafe.

The book, Althea, was written when I was 21, living in Los Angeles, in a one-bedroom apartment with my mother. I had read through all the easy entertainment books at the library and was dying for something to read, and so I wrote it. I had fun writing it, it kept me occupied (and it kept my mother off my back, as she had a near-religious faith in writing). And I sent the book off, and it was bought and, ultimately, published. I haven't looked at Althea (or the four books that followed it) much in the past twenty years or so--I moved on to other stuff, and my need for fluffy entertainment shifted (it would be more dignified to say it diminished, I suppose, but dignity has never been my long suit), and anyway, I'm writing different stuff these days.

However, scanning it, I have my nose pressed up against the book in a way that brings into sharp relief how, um, young I was. It's Heyer pastiche, and competent Heyer pastiche, but every page brings a phrase I want to change, a word that cries out to be deleted. Because I'm older and crankier and less is more, even with pastiche. I could make the changes--hell, I could go in and rewrite anything that irritates me, now it's digitized. But should I? Without sounding pompous, these books are (cue the Galaxy Quest alien's voice) historical documents; they are not only a record of my immaturity as a writer, but of my callow self. I wonder if some of my reaction to the book is not simply a reaction to her, the girl sitting there hunched over her second-hand typewriter, writing something to keep her company and amuse her.

I have (thus far) deleted one repeated word. I'm fixing typos. And I'm still arguing with myself as to whether I want to fix the book or let it be what it originally was.
madrobins: It's a meatloaf.  Dressed up like a bunny.  (Default)
Who would be Emily?

Since the time changeover, the poor animal has her clock badly out of whack. This is complicated by the fact that the Spouse gets up way too early most mornings, and she gets her first walk and breakfast by 7am (some mornings by 6), so that by the time she gets back from her Epic Drag, somewhere between noon and three, she is convinced that The Dog Is Starving as No Dog Has Ever Starved.

It is 2:49 and she is marching around the house whimpering quietly and adopting an expression of martyred patience. The patience thing? Totally bogus. She will not be fed until 3 at the earliest, and that's only because it's annoying to have her marching around the house whimpering quietly and stopping now and then to paw, forlornly, at her bowl. 3:30 would be better, and 5pm is the Official mealtime of Good Dogs. We'll see how long she, and I, can hold out.

By the time daylight savings' time rolls around again she'll be set in the old ways and completely confused when we want her to get up an hour early. Of course, the earlier the feeding, the happier the dog.
madrobins: It's a meatloaf.  Dressed up like a bunny.  (Default)
Book View Café Releases Judith Tarr's WRITING HORSES, The Fine Art of Getting It Right

WRITING HORSES, The Fine Art of Getting It Right (original non-fiction)
Release Date: November 15, 2010
Price: $4.99
ISBN: 978 1 61138 030 9
Formats: .pdf, .epub, .mobi, .prc

How far can a horse travel in a day? What does a horse eat? When is a brown horse really a sorrel (or a bay, or a dun)? What do 'tack' and 'withers' and 'canter' mean?

Author and horse breeder Judith Tarr answers these questions and many more in this long-awaited guide for writers, with insight into the world of the horse and the humans who both use and serve him.

Having copyedited this, I have to tell you: it's terrific, useful, funny, and full of lore and Judy's love for horses. Go get it.

ETA: fixed the link. Pologies, all.
madrobins: It's a meatloaf.  Dressed up like a bunny.  (Default)
Nebula Award™ nominations begin in the morning. I am the Nebula Awards Commissioner, a grandiose title for a function which is part proofreader, part traffic cop and part book-keeper. If you don't hear from me for a while, send someone to look under the rubble...