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aliettedb)Stuff I’ve enjoyed recently: Apex has an awesomely creepy story by fellow VDer Rochita Loenen-Ruiz, “59 Beads”:
Air limousines floated by like ghosts in a night filled with a jangle of sounds. A mad juxtaposition of chords, wailing voices and crooned-out tunes mangled by the sound of honking horns, curses and the cries of the desperate filled the dark streets. Cordoba’s End, home to migrants and refugees.
After their parents succumbed to the rot, Pyn and Sienna wandered the streets of Cordoba. Together, they trekked the back side of the posh quarter. Ecstasy street, Ilona’s Oord, Sonatina’s Point, the words tasted as exotic and beautiful as the places themselves.
“You think we’ll ever be rich enough to live on High End?” Sienna asked.
“I don’t know,” Pyn said.
Rochita is also blogging over at Jeff Vandermeer’s blog on Writing from the Context of my Culture.
I’ve also been reading the anthology Federations by John Joseph Adams, which, while it contains many good stories, isn’t really my cup of tea–there are far too many stories focusing on the military or pseudo-military of the Federations to appeal to me. But I’ve found two gems so far, Yoon Ha Lee “Swanwatch”, about a poet exiled to a space station overlooking a black hole where people commit suicide, and tasked with turning their deaths into art. Very intriguing concept, and a sparse execution that works up to a punchy ending. In a, er, much different vein, “The One with the Interstellar Group Consciousness” by James Alan Gardner, is what would happen if Intergalactic civilisations developped a consciousness, and started looking for their soulmates using 21st-century dating techniques. Hilarious. Still have the Cat Valente story to read, which I’m looking forward to.
In the latest issue of Interzone, I enjoyed Colin Harvey’s “The Killing Streets”, which showcases his ability to depict believable scarce-resource futures with flawed yet sympathetic characters. Mordantly dark, well worth a look (and it almost made me miss my station, which is a sign of how engrossed I was). I also loved Lavie Tidhar’s “Funny Pages”, easily the best story in the issue, a fast and wry tale of Israeli super-heroes and super-villains (bonus points for relooking a particularly famous superhero as the Sabra–I didn’t catch the reference until fairly late in the story, but it was pretty funny when it came up).
Cross-posted from Aliette de Bodard
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aliettedb)The January and February 2010 issue of Realms of Fantasy both turned up nearly simultaneously in my mailbox. The reason for the delay, insofar as I can ascertain, is that the January issue had been mauled in transit, resulting in a missing lower-right-hand corner that looked like it had been nibbled by rats (I’m pretty sure that’s not the explanation, but it did look very much like it). On the plus side, the February issue arrived in a neat USPS protected envelope, contained a folded check (which I almost lost when opening the issue, as I’m still not used to checks being folded half-inside the magazines), and, of course, my story “Melanie”, complete with illustration by Frank Wu.
w00t.
Here’s the obligatory teaser:
March in Paris: the trees in the school’s courtyard have bloomed in the mild weather, tumbles of white and pink flowers hanging just out of reach.
The boarders sit in small clutches under the arcades of building B, their notebooks open on their knees–making their last, frantic revisions before the competitive exams.
“Three weeks left,” Richard says, tapping his pen against a mathematical formula.
“Yeah,” Erwan says. He’s staring at the other students–all shining, all gorged with light: the light of numbers and curves, the endless dance of the formulas that rule the world. And, as it always does, his gaze fastens on Mélanie.
Meanwhile, I’ll be off to write some more Harbinger (regained the 2500 words I’d cut, plus some, bringing me to almost 46k. Also, the character with the longest-ever name has walked on-stage, and looks to be taking over the scene if not the plot).
Cross-posted from Aliette de Bodard
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desperance)I just ate a pimento-stuffed olive, and got washed with flavours of aniseed. Which I do not love. Or like, except in limited circumstances and when I am prepared for it. Fennel's okay, fennel's good these days, but that's about as far as I will go. Tarragon's good. Like that. This? Hmmph. I think the olives are Greek, and some reckless fool splashed ouzo over 'em.
In other news, many of my novels have secret titles undisclosed. I may have mentioned this before, but this one? The Game of Cat and Dragon. Which one of them will have to lose.
In other other news, sickness is like a second adolescence: my head hurts, and all I want to do is lie on the sofa and imbibe. Soup, tea, whisky. Stargate and Neal Stephenson. That's about the limit of it. I was not an ambitious adolescent...
I can be ambitious for my friends; it would be a fine thing, it seems to me, if y'all went out and bought copies of Dragon in Chains by Daniel Fox for all your friends for Xmas. Then they could read it just in time for the sequel, Jade Man's Skin, and love you for evermore. Wouldn't that be nice...?
Urgh. Aargh. *creeps off back to sofa*
la_marquise_de_)
Now it's official.
The public sector are paying for the bank bailout. 1% pay cap over the next two years. Because public sector workers -- mostly on relatively low pay to begin with -- are easy to punish. Even though this is not their mess.
la_marquise_de_)
So far today I've done post office stuff, done some tidying (real and virtual) and revised three more chapters of Grass King. I'm still liking it, though there's a sticky transition in c. 8 that I can't get quite right.
Later on, I'm ferrying Caro winolj and the Evil Ramses to the vet, then perhaps making apple and cranberry pie.
e_moon60)After last night's performance, and the preceding busy rehearsal weeks, I'm fairly wiped out and will not be reading all the comments or posting a lot here for the next day or so. At least, I don't plan to. There's undone work of other kinds stacked up as well. So all you'll get are tiny nibbles from Twitter until I can at least a) find the other pair of black flats, b) get my my concert blacks clean and ready for the 20th, c) move another load, preferably two, into the storage unit and see the living room floor...as in, walk to the piano bench without having to step over anything.
Updates to anything will be spread out among the various venues, just enough to let people know that I haven't fallen off a cliff, but for now...take a deep breath, as I am, and go your merry ways.
e_moon60)Adventures started with the discovery that my "church shoes" were at church, not at home (forgot--I'd started leaving them there because, if I drive to and from in them, my feet swell up even worse) and though I'd allowed extra time for traffic delays between home and performance venue, it was not enough time (or might not be) to drive into downtown, park in the garage, get the shoes, get out of the garage and all the way across and out north to the road that eventually leads back across the river to Riverbend. At rush hour.
After some frantic moments, I gave up and wore the "small' walking shoes, the ones with no inserts. Less clunky, and under the long black slacks, not that obvious. The drive in was pleasant until near 360--the clouds and fog had cleared (but only temporarily, as it turned out) and I got to Riverbend shortly after sunset, while it was still light enough to navigate the parking lots in relative safety.
Leaving out the boring bits (the lecture on decorum, because last year someone talked while the soloists sang and wasn't invited back this year, and other stuff), we got ourselves lined up and ready and trooped out onto the stage in front of a sold-out house, the back row climbing up first, then the others filling in. The house lights went down. Out came David and our soloists. The orchestra launched into the little Symphonia, and from there it was all fireworks. An audience that wants to hear what you're ready to perform creates a wonderful tension--they were "warm" to start with, and we could feel that. We exploded into the first chorus...all our soloists did brilliantly...and it was what you hope for, as a chorister--the feeling that you can trust all the others, you can carve into the music, making the big moves that the director asked for as well as the little ones, and the others are with you...the bass section produced actual unified trills...and so on.
We came into the last chorus with enough voice left to make it the showpiece it should be, even the Amen section (which--and I've sung it this way with other choirs--can be a boring--to the audience--and terrifying--to the singers--string of undifferentiated Amens, long, short, plain,and fancy. The first time I sang Messiah, in the performance one whole section got a measure off from everyone else in the Amens and had to be forcibly yanked back into place by the conductor's glare and gesture: "Shut up! Wait! OK, NOW!".) Last night it was structurally clean, each line its own color, making a braid with no loose edges, no fuzzy bits.
The applause (as earlier, before the interval) was more than polite--it was very enthusiastic--and when after the soloists' bows and the orchestra's recognition, we got ours--they hollered and whistled. So. Write what she will, the people who count got what they paid for.
We came out to dense fog and a long wait to get out of the parking lot, but I made it home shortly before midnight. Whew.
The soloists this year were all excellent, as were the orchestra--the trumpet soloist for the "And the trumpet shall sound" was just incredible. And David was the inimitable David, his enthusiasm for the music, and for all of us, contagious. He makes it fun, without letting it be sloppy.
mevennen)I was teaching yesterday so went from Bath to Gloucester to have dinner with my family and go to a MB concert at Gloucester Cathedral. It took ages to get through Bath, which is a nightmare to drive in at the best of times...
However, the concert was very good and featured what might be the only song about female genitalia ever sung in the cathedral: it was in old Welsh, though. The cathedral is an ideal place for it, with its huge Norman pillars and creamy stonework. The cloisters (scene of some of the Harry Potter movies) were ethereal. There was a big Christmas tree with pale sparkly lights. When the lights were turned down, the whole building was filled with shadows, like a huge ship sailing into the winter dark.
There is also a hilarious Nativity scene made out of papier mache, featuring a Gloucester Old Spot pig and a stout Joseph in wire rimmed spectacles:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/gloucesters
kaz_mahoney)
Is anyone else having trouble getting email notifications?
Just to let you know - if you've replied to a comment I've made in any other journals, I haven't been getting those notifications at all. Not ignoring you, but I don't think I'll ever know about it as the only way to receive those updates is via email.
At least comments in my own LJ show up in the LJ inbox.
*sigh*
Don't forget to scroll down to enter my eBook giveaway on the previous entry!
e_moon60)Tweets copied by twittinesis.com
aliettedb)This is the bit where I’d go for a liedown were it not early morning here…
I’ve sold “The Jaguar House, in Shadow” to Asimov’s. It’s a novelette set in the Xuya universe (where China discovered America before Colombus, the same as “The Lost Xuyan Bride”, “Butterfly Falling at Dawn” and “Fleeing Tezcatlipoca”, not to mention novel Foreign Ghosts, currently with my agent). It focuses on the Aztecs in Greater Mexica, and the Jaguar Knights, elite spies and manipulators caught in the bloody aftermath of the civil war. Complete with blood sacrifices, crazy priests and hallucinogenic drugs.
The mind wanders, when one takes teonanácatl.
If she allowed herself to think, she’d smell bleach, mingling with the faint, rank smell of blood; she’d see the grooves of the cell, smeared with what might be blood or faeces.
She’d remember–the pain insinuating itself into the marrow of her bones, until it, too, becomes a dull thing, a matter of habit–she’d remember dragging herself upwards when dawn filters through the slit-windows: too tired and wan to offer her blood to Tonatiuh the sun, whispering a prayer that ends up sounding more and more like an apology.
Wrote the first draft of this in Brittany last summer (somewhat amusingly, the previous sale I made to Asimov’s, “The Wind-Blown Man”, was also written in Brittany, so there’s clearly something in the air here). I workshopped this on OWW, where it got very helpful crits from Christine Lucas (silverwerecat), Rachel Gold and Swapna Kishore.
If anyone wants me, I’ll be in the flat, jumping up and down and making incoherent noises.
Cross-posted from Aliette de Bodard
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cherylmmorgan)
Originally published at Cheryl's Mewsings. Please leave any comments there.
Well I appear to have escaped from SMOFcom without contracting any con crud, but I’m still very tired. I’m glad I decided to have a day of recuperation before having to head off to the UK. I’m not sure I have achieved much today except get to the end of it. What I need now is a hot tub. My apologies for the useless bloggery.
ellen_kushner)So many fine people came to our NYRSF reading tonight - friends old & new, and even some strangers! It was a full house, which was terrifically gratifying and not a little moving. Our 20th Anniv Curator, Claire Wolfe Smith, gave a very moving opening talk about the history of NYRSF, complete with anecdotes you had to have been around 20 yrs ago to fully appreciate! Which, of course, we were. She also read the list of those whose readings she'd curated back then, including Delany, Emshwiller, Gaiman, Palwick ,Haldeman, Dozois, and many many more. A real Honors List. Many of these, our Elders, have had serious health scares recently; it made me happy to realize that, with the exception of Tom Disch, who took his own life last year, they are all still with us, bless them.
Delia read "How the Pooka Came to New York," which will appear in Ellen Datlow's NAKED CITIES next year (in a slightly longer version - we edited it down to be under 30 minutes); she read Liam's POV, and I read the Pooka's. Then I read "The Man with the Knives" (which will go out on submission as soon as I figure out where the Glory and the Money are next). Instead of dividing it evenly between POV's (mad Alec's & Sofia's), I went with my gut and simply assigned certain Sofia bits to Delia - including dialogue. It was a bit like music. I think it worked well. My only regret is that we read right up to the time we needed to vacate the building - so I didnt' get the chance to get everyone's reactions, field questions, etc. I invite you to do that here, if you like.
azhure)
I'm probably going to be very bad at keeping up with LJ for a while, for obvious reasons ;) I haven't been able to get online at all much, apart from the stuff that I can do easily from the iPhone (Netnewswire is made of awesome).
Liam is a week old today - almost to the minute as I type. He continues to be gorgeous, for all that he spent yesterday afternoon and a good chunk of the night feeding constantly and keeping us awake :) Right now, he's tucked up in a sling sleeping. He was being grizzly this morning again and wouldn't settle, so I figured it was time to work out how to use one of the slings I bought. As soon as I tucked him into the ring sling he went to sleep :)
Everything is a huge learning curve. Still having some issues with breastfeeding, mostly because he has issues latching. I'm going to stick to it, though, and get help when I need it. Though I can see why people turn to formula instead - feeding every hour gets pretty damn draining.
I will write up my birth story when I get a chance, assuming that anyone is interested in reading it.
One thing I need to note is how damn impressed I was with my hospital. Huge emphasis on breastfeeding, with all of the help in the world to get it going. Several of the midwives spent chunks of the night with me helping me with feeding and getting Liam settled. I kind of miss my nurse call button for that reason, but we're getting there :)
kaz_mahoney)Yep, I know I am completely rubbish at sticking to blog vacations ('blacations'), but hey... I managed 5 days without blogging. That's pretty good, right? And I didn't even glance at Twitter for four whole days. Surely that's a win? *has shifty eyes*
Srsly though, I really did get a lot of work done in those four or five days. Still not anywhere near finished with TIW revisions, but I have made a couple of breakthroughs that give me hope - hope that I will complete them ahead of schedule. In fact, I'd really like to be handing them in a good month early.
In the past few days I have also had another breakthrough. (Maybe I should take regular short breaks from the intewebs! They seem to be productive. *g*) I came up with a title and rough sort of plot-type-of-thing for the next Moth anthology story. Yay! I think the title might already have been used for a Bela Lugosi film, but maybe I can work that into the story somehow...
Before I go, I must do the thing that I promised to do for my friend yolandasfetsos. I am happy to announce that her latest book is now available from Samhain Publishing. How absolutely gorgeous is this cover?
Click to see a bigger version...
You can read the full blurb over at the Samhain link, but this is my favourite part:
Warning: This book contains a space cowboy with an attitude, a female sheriff with a kick-ass past, an AI dressed like a deputy, feral creatures, and a planet scorched by its proximity to the sun—but still not as hot as the cowboy and sheriff are for each other.
Oh, and you can read an excerpt here.
I am giving away an eBook of WITHER to one person.* Huzzah! Please leave a comment on this entry telling me what you're currently reading and loving, and I'll enter your name. Winner to be drawn at the weekend, so the closing date will be end of the day on Friday 11th December. Your prize will be an eBook, probably in PDF format.
(*Younger readers, please note this is an *ahem* adult book.)
aliettedb)If you want something that looks like a book, Angry Robot has a sample of Servant of the Underworld to download, which contains the first chapter. Available in Mobipocket, EPUB or PDF.
Or you can also read the first three chapters online at My Favourite Books (they were cut into five parts to make them more manageable, hence the number of links).
In the silence of the shrine, I bowed to the corpse on the altar: a minor member of the Imperial Family, who had died in a boating accident on Lake Texcoco. My priests had bandaged the gaping wound on his forehead and smoothed the wrinkled skin as best as they could; they had dressed him with scraps of many-coloured cotton and threaded a jade bead through his lips – preparing him for the long journey ahead. As High Priest for the Dead, it was now my responsibility to ease his passage into Mictlan, the underworld.
I slashed my earlobes and drew thorns through the wounds, collecting the dripping blood in a bowl, and started a litany for the Dead.
Cross-posted from Aliette de Bodard
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e_moon60)Tonight. Going down for pre-prep nap now.
We are all tired, except the night-owl types who don't have day jobs (few of those.) I loathe the venue with seriousness and thoroughness, esp. now that they've decided we have to use the loading dock (and a flimsy little aluminum "bridge" thing, from ground level to the very high loading dock) to come in by, and the parking over there is dark, confusing, and dangerous. Very litle of the Riverbend parking is adequately lit or marked with lanes and warnings for drop-offs. This part is just a sloping black hole punctuated with dropoffs and trees without even a white stripe. In fog with drizzle, it's far worse than a PITA--it's a hazard. And the acoustics inside suck, as do the flimsy risers, the tiny uncomfortable chairs, and so on. Place sucks in every way it is possible to suck, including leaky toilets in one of the bathrooms.
However. We will make glorious music anyway, and that idiot "person" from the Statesman will no doubt ignore the quality of the music to whine about the venue which is Not Our Fault, the way she did last year. I'd rather be me singing in the choir than her picking at us, so there. (Last year her review was...unfavorable.)
(Yes, clearly I need that nap.)
ellen_kushner)7 pm (doors open at 6:30 - there will be cider, cheese & crackers!). NYRSF. Still agonizing over reading choices. There will be books for sale, and we will sign them.
desperance)I cannot actually be sick. I have been inoculated (*pauses suddenly, working out the root of the word and shuddering at the thought: in the eye? Eww!*) against everything from flu to porcuswine flu to pneumonia to yellow fever; there is nothing left to sicken me.
And yet, and yet...
I just cried off a lunch date with an old friend, abandoned my work and came home.
*takes to sofa, with soup and warm fuzzies*
I loved reading Jenn Reese's roundup of her favorite MG books from 2009, and since I am (of course!) mostly buying books as Christmas presents, I thought many of you guys might be, too. So I figured I'd share the list of my top favorite YA and MG books that I read in 2009. (This only includes the ones that have already been published in America - it would just be mean to taunt you with ARC recommendations or UK-only editions when you're busy holiday-shopping!).
What about you guys? What were your favorite books this year?
__
PS: I bought myself copies of all these books except Ysabeau Wilce's Flora's Dare, which I was lucky eough to get as a free ARC. I'm friends with Ysa, Sarah, and Lisa, and I feel very lucky to be friends with some of my favorite authors. Even if I didn't know them, I would still love their books!