Man, I’ve been all over the place for the last week. Good stuff happened and bad stuff happened and my emotional state bounced around like one of those 20-cent rubber crazy balls you used buy from the machines out the front of the grocery store, but there was rarely a moment where stuff happened all on its own and demanded no real engagement on my part. Fortunately the last three or four days have trended towards the good rather than the bad, but I suspect any seven day period that starts with your parents ringing from the other side of the world and saying “we were almost killed in a car crash” is going to struggle to come out ahead on points.

Still, among the cool stuff:

- Doing edits and contracts for my short story, L’esprit de L’escalier, which will be coming up at Apex Magazine in the future. Astute readers may put two-and-two together and realise this was the source of much post-acceptance dancing two weeks back.

- Kicked off a whole new round of snoopy dancing, for it appears that I’ve sold a third story for the year. Once again I err on the side of vagueness until details firm up, but suffice to say that this one is rated pretty damn high on the awesomesauce scale.

- Had the yearly rejection count climb to a tantalising 19 rejections, which has spurred me to get back into the wordmines and get some new stories done.

- Picked up the inimitable Ben Francisco from the airport, whereupon there was nattering about writing and the eating of cassoulet and the planning of literary hi-jinx in the lead-up to the con.

In other news I’m still prodding my brain and saying “yo, you ready to acknowledge that there’s a book with our name on it coming out next week” and the brain continues to respond with a surly growl and a denial. I suspect I’m saving my “ZOMG…BOOK!” type squee until there’s a copy in my hands, whereupon nearby dogs will probably register my joy. I also have to figure out what I’m going to read in my reading slot at the con (logically it should be Bleed, but there’s always something a tad iffy about me reading Aster’s interior monologue); I was tempted to go with the aforementioned L’esprit de L’escalier, but then I realised I had no idea how to pronounce the title without mangling the French and thus it was shelved for another time.
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Current Writing Metrics
Consecutive Days Writing (500+ words): 1
New Short Stories Sent Into the Wild: 9/30
Rejections in 2010: 19/100
Black Candy Word Count (Finish Date: 31st August )

So this morning my phone beeped away to remind me that there’s but three weeks to Worldcon, which triggers a metric buttload of anxiety in me because I’m so not ready for Worldcon to be three weeks away yet. Especially since it marks the imminent arrival of house-guests in two weeks, my parents return to the country in one week, and the attendance of the most excellent Trent Jameison’s book launch in twenty-four hours. The hours, they are running away from me, and it is only be checking the calender twice daily that I remember what I’m meant to be doing at any given time.

In any case, today’s entry on the calender demands I remind of two things you may wish to swing by the dealer’s room and pick up at Worldcon (if you’re in attendance) or pre-order for the home-delivery goodness (if you’re not).

Item the First: Bleed

So that unicorn book I wrote? A bunch of people were all “more please” and I was all “What? For reals? Well, okay” and now Miriam Aster is on the case again. There’s less unicorn this time (possibly, like, none) but there is a talking cat and a boogie-men and dapper ex-cop mentors and a considerable amount of, well, bleeding.  And as the blog title says – bugger subtlety. And modesty. Buy my new book people, for I am rather proud of it and I have rent that needs paying (and ’cause I really want to write the third book, and sales mean the publisher says “yes” when I pitch the next odd idea).

For your edification, I give you the blurb:

For ten years ex-cop Miriam Aster has been living with her one big mistake – agreeing to kill three men for the exiled Queen of Faerie. But when an old case comes back to haunt her it brings a spectre of the past with it, forcing Aster to ally herself with a stunt-woman and a magic cat in order to rescue a kidnapped TV star from the land of Faerie and stop the half-breed sorcerer who needs Aster’s blood.

Ten years ago Miriam Aster learnt a simple lesson: when a faerie asks you to kill someone, the worst thing you can say is sure. Today she’s about to learn that worse things can happen when the past refuses to stay behind you.

And seriously, how can you say no to that cover? Preorders are available now for $12 plus postage.

Item the Second: Sprawl

And should you be in the market for a fine collection of short fiction rather than a hardboiled fey-noir novella, may I recommend the rather fine Sprawl anthology that’s also avialable for pre-order and choc-full of Australian sub-urban fantasy stories.

Once again, their is blurbage:

Sprawl is an exciting new original anthology, edited by Alisa Krasnostein and published by Twelfth Planet Press, that will give readers from around the world a unique glimpse into the strange, dark, and often wondrous magics that fill the days and nights of Australia’s dreaming cities and towns, homes and parks, and most of all, its endlessly stretching suburbs.

Table of Contents

• Liz Argall/Matt Huynh – Seed Dreams (comic)
• Peter Ball – One Saturday Night, With Angel
• Deborah Biancotti – Never Going Home
• Simon Brown – Sweep
• Stephanie Campisi – How to Select a Durian at Footscray Market
• Thoraiya Dyer – Yowie
• Dirk Flinthart – Walker
• Paul Haines – Her Gallant Needs
• L L Hannett – Weightless
• Pete Kempshall – Signature Walk
• Ben Peek – White Crocodile Jazz
• Tansy Rayner Roberts – Relentless Adaptations
• Barbara Robson – Neighbourhood Watch
• Angela Slatter – Brisneyland by Night
• Cat Sparks – All The Love in the World
• Anna Tambour – Gnawer of the Moon Seeks Summit of Paradise
• Kaaron Warren – Loss
• Sean Williams – Parched (poem)

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Current Writing Metrics
Consecutive Days Writing (500+ words): 3
New Short Stories Sent Into the Wild: 9/30
Rejections in 2010: 15/100
Black Candy Word Count (Finish Date: 31st August)

So yesterday the various forms of mail brought in my contributor copies of the new Horn layout, my ninth rejection of the year, and the following news:

Bleed by Peter M Ball
Cover art by Dion Hamill, design by Amanda

For ten years ex-cop Miriam Aster has been living with her one big mistake – agreeing to kill three men for the exiled Queen of Faerie. But when an old case comes back to haunt her it brings a spectre of the past with it, forcing Aster to ally herself with a stunt-woman and a magic cat in order to rescue a kidnapped TV star from the land of Faerie and stop the half-breed sorcerer who needs Aster’s blood.

Ten years ago Miriam Aster learnt a simple lesson: when a faerie asks you to kill someone, the worst thing you can say is sure. Today she’s about to learn that worse things can happen when the past refuses to stay behind you.

Bleed will be available at Aussiecon 4 in Melbourne, September 2010 and is now available for preorder.

And lo, the edits are sent back to the editor and the novella once titled Cold Cases is going through the various transmogrifications it goes through to become a book titled Bleed instead. Various things contribute to the feeling of done-ness – seeing concept sketches for the cover art, finally settling on the new title, hearing that the ISBN-type stuff is being put into motion. There will still be work to go, presumably edits and proofs, but this book has officially evacuated the portion of my brain that requires tinkering and subconscious thought. It’s no longer a project.

Which means it’s time to get started on what comes next: rewriting Black Candy.

And since I’m house-sitting this month, taking care of the cats and chickens that belong to some friends who have dissappeared into the wilds of Europe, I’m going to try and pack the bulk of the rewrite into July. Once more into the breach and all that.

I’ve been writing a sequel to Horn, one way or another, since February 6 of 2009. I suspect I’d started even earlier than that with ideas scribbled down in notebooks and such, but Feb 6 is the first time it migrated to a computer file that’s usually the start of my writing process. Since then I’ve voluntarily scrapped an entire novella draft, rewritten the plan for how I thought a series of Miriam Aster books should progress, and written a second novella to fit the new concept that was about 75% longer than projected.

Some days I dispaired that I’d ever actually see the end of the process - what started as twenty-thousand words about Aster and a talking cat ended up in a very different place. Trying to get there scared the shit out of me more than once; I have a comfort zone as a writer, and this was well outside it.

But it appears it’s very close to being done. I came home from my D&D game tonight to an e-mail containing edits from TPP and they contain the phrase “mostly line edits with a few comments.” After months of stressing over plot holes and backstory-wrangling, those words are freakin’ magical. It means at some point in the future I can stop thinking about the novella and it can go off and be a book. The curse of seeing this news at eleven o’clock at night is that there’s no-one to call and say “holy freaking shit, its almost done,” so I’ll say it here instead:

Holy freakin’ shit, it’s almost done.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to drink a glass of scotch and collapse into the most relaxing night of sleep I’ll have had since…I dunno…probably January.

I’ve been distracted of late - either by trying to get the latest version of Cold Cases ready or hole-in-my-head drama depending of the day –  and I somehow managed to miss a whole heap of stuff happening around the traps.

1) The latest edition of the Terra Incognita Podcast is up, featuring me reading my story Black Dog: A Biography that came out in the Interfictions II anthology last year. Unlike most of the previous podcasts of my work this one actually involved me recording the reading myself, an experience that forced me to realise exactly how inarticulate I am in the verbal form (seriously; apparently I drop the consonants out of words and rely on vowel sounds and inflections to get things right, and we do not speak of how many times I had to restart things in order to avoid this).

2) Angela Slatter’s Brisneyland by Night is the feature story over at the Twelth Planet Podcast at the moment, which pleases me greatly for reasons that may or may not become apparent if you’ve read Horn. Brisneyland is part of the forthcoming Sprawl anthology from TPP.

3) My sister returned live and well from her trek over the Kokoda Trail yesterday. Notable primarily because my parents didn’t send me crazy with phone-calls when there was news of trouble in the area, and because she returned bearing coffee beans ready for my caffeinated consumption.

4) My doctor continues to taunt me by having me come in for appointments where he doesn’t remove my stitches, thus prolonging the wait until I can finally *wash my damn hair again*. To be fair, this is largely because he took all the stitches out last week and I immediately started bleeding like a stuck pig, but my head itches dammit and the ease-of-care was half the reason I shaved my head a few weeks back.

5) The yearly rejection counts holds steady at 7; the yearly acceptance count rises to 1; the number of stories ready to go out into the world is about to rise by 2. These statistics do not support getting to 100 rejections by the end of the year, but I’m about to dissappear and house-sit for the month of July and I plan to get a *lot* of writing done while I’m there.

First, a public service announcement re-posted from the livejournal of my illustrious publisher:

(The reprint of) Horn failed to be delivered today but I have rescheduled for tomorrow and they should then be out in the post to the preorders in tomorrow evening’s mail.

If you’ve been holding off buying your copy of Horn til they were back in stock, as of tomorrow they will be and you can buy your copy here. Again, whilst stocks last – I expect to have copies for sale at Worldcon but there were quite a few reservations for this second printing as well.

Which seems like as good a segue as we’re going to get to talk about the current state of the second Miriam Aster novella, Cold Cases.

Today I was full of virtue. I rose early, I took my daily dose of penicillin, then I settled down at the computer with a cup of coffee and a Bob Dylan CD and vowed to remain there until the problem of not having a finished version of Cold Cases  was finally solved. I have convinced myself this is doable by promising that a finished draft today means I can take tomorrow off and prepare my next D&D game before we play on Thursday.

That was about seven hours ago, and since then I’ve heard Bob sing Everybody Must Get Stoned about twelve times. It appears to be working too, but I suspect seven hours of Bob Dylan is my limit.

The upside is that I’m finally tackling the pacing problems at the end of the novella, which is a very stop-start process where I build a scene and then figure out what still needs to be done to connect it to the finale. I figure that gives at least a 60% chance of hitting the end some time tonight (the end, of course, being an arbitry stopping point where I look for beta-readers who can point out where I’ve done stupid things that need fixing).

And lo, what a difference a few days makes.

Today I have run out of steam on the deathmarch. My eyes hurt, my brain hurts, I’m altogether skittish about going near the keyboard. The very act of writing a blogpost seems daunting, since it’s the thing between me and getting back to work. If I don’t blog, I don’t march. If I don’t march, I don’t have to face the fact that the next stage of rewriting is upon us. If that happens, I don’t have to solve the next plot-problem.

This death march is all about solving plot problems, figuring out how to make the novella work on a really basic level. It’s not one of my strong points. It makes me stubborn. I hate having to figure out what needs to be done next. The only upside is that I’ve finally realised that this is what I’m doing when I find myself flailing about, so I can at least recognise my hesitance as “I’m stuck, and something needs fixing.”

So now I go to figure that out.

The folks over at Twelfth Planet Press have just upgraded their webstore and they’re celebrating with Mother’s Day Sale where you can pick up two or more books for a nice, cheap, wallet-friendly price prior to May 7th.

There is some bad news for those of you thinking you know, my mother really digs noir stories with a squicky unicorn filling* and looking for a copy of Horn as a result – it’s out of stock at the moment, and while I don’t know the particulars of when the reprint will happen I’m pretty sure it won’t be in time to show your appreciation for the maternal figure/s in your life on mothers day itself. Of course, you can pre-order yourself a copy of the second printing and pick up a copy of either the Siren Beat/Roadkill double (which delivers Tansy Rayner Roberts’ Hobart noir novelette with a tentacle-squick filling and Robert Shearman’s novelette of desperately uncomfortable, captivating weirdness in one convenient package) or Dirk Flinthart’s Angel Rising (which includes warrior nuns – need I say more?) to cover Mother’s Day itself.

Or, you know, you could just pre-order a copy of Horn and give it to your mum when it’s finally released. Because you don’t actually need mother’s day to tell your mother you love her, dig?

In any case, there’s more details below. Go forth and do with this information as you will.

*Mine doesn’t, for what it’s worth. She hasn’t read Horn at all, and I’m at peace with that**.
** My grandmother, on the other hand, really enjoyed it. That surprised me a little.

*************** 

TPP Mothers Day Sale!

Today the novella did good things. Less of the Death side of the equation and more of the March. The sub-conscious writing muscles have remembered how to work and the story starts chugging along under its own steam. I can look of the current draft and see the shape of the book it’s going to be when it’s done, which is something I hadn’t managed prior to starting the deathmarch. The voice started settling down. I remembered how to take stuff out of a rewrite, especially when it belongs in another scene. All is well with the world.

The real measure that the Deathmarch is working, though, comes when I can look forward to the next writing project without immediately running off to work on it instead. When I’m avoiding a project, I’m all about the distraction. Today I’m all about the focus, and hopefully I can start transitioning to normal sleeping patterns instead of maintaining the manic manic working-to-five-in-the-morning approach that defined the first three days. Not that I’m against working ’til five in the morning, but the rewrites tend to make camp in my brain and keep me awake for a few hours after that. I’m starting to miss sleep, just a little.

Still, Deathmarch FTW. It’s nice to remember how this writing thing goes.