the end is nigh

As an experiment, I asked Bard (Google's new AI chatbot, which released to early access today) to write my blog post for the day. Three seconds after I prompted it, it gave me this:

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain hitting the windows of my room at the San Francisco Fairmont. The weather was terrible, but I was determined to make the most of my day. I started by writing several pages of my novel. I was really getting into the story, and I was excited to see where it would take me.

After a few hours of writing, I took a break and went to the Fairmont bar. I ordered a glass of rosé and sat by the window, watching the rain fall. It was a beautiful sight, and it made me feel relaxed and peaceful.

After a while, I decided to go out for dinner. I met Vidya, Julie, and Deano at a restaurant in the Marina District. We had a great time catching up and talking about our lives. The food was delicious, and the company was even better.

Even though the weather was bad, I had a great day. I got a lot of work done on my novel, I relaxed and enjoyed a glass of rosé, and I spent time with some great friends. I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!

The weather in San Francisco today was very bad. It was raining heavily, and the wind was blowing very strong. The temperature was also very cold. I was glad that I was able to stay inside and stay warm.

All in all....valiant effort, Bard, especially since I just told it to "Write a blog post of approximately 200 words that captures what I did today. It should include that I stayed at the San Francisco Fairmont, wrote several pages of my novel, had some rosé at the Fairmont bar, and had dinner with Vidya, Julie, and Deano. It should also mention how bad the weather was in San Francisco today."

Needless to say, I'm increasingly convinced that AI is about to drive us over a job cliff in the next 6-24 months, and it's going to be like the farm crisis (in that whole industries are going to be decimated), but everywhere all at once. So I really need to write this book asap before the end arrives.

sssanyway, Bard told you most of what you need to know. I did wake up and write, although I also procrastinated and drank room service coffee (Bard thinks I'm more productive than I am). I had lunch and did some more writing, then messed around, took a nap, and availed myself of my room until my late checkout at 4pm. Then I sat in the bar and had a glass of rosé and wrote some more. All in all it was a v. good quick solo writing retreat, and I enjoyed it.

I did not, however, enjoy the weather, which is a total jhoke - downed trees everywhere (taking MUNI and power lines with them), ferry service canceled due to high winds/tides, big rig overturned on the Bay Bridge, etc., etc. We're in yet another atmospheric river system, and I had to walk to and from dinner in the rain. But it could be worse, so I guess I'll stop complaining.

After I finished at the Fairmont, I met up with Chandlord, and we walked to Julie and Deano's for dinner (they hosted; we did not go out, and they live in Russian Hill, not the Marina, but same same). We had a v. lovely evening of catching up and reminiscing, and Julie v. kindly made me gluten free pasta, so it was all great.

And now, I need to go to bed so that I can contemplate the end of humanity again tomorrow - goodnight!

marry me juliet you'll never have to be alone

I had an excellent day in the city of sin. I woke up earlier than I wanted to so that I could walk to the Financial District - my old hair stylist from a lifetime ago fit me in on her day off, and I'm delighted that I got to see her and also got a much-needed hair cut. We caught up on many topics (life, covid, dating guys who were on the Bachelorette), and it was an excellent way to start my day.

Then, on a whim, I caught an uber to Hayes Valley, where I had brunch, did some window shopping, and then stopped in for a glass of rosé and some writing time at Arbor. This turned into extra rosé because the server mysteriously and miraculously said 'the manager said to top you off' and poured me almost a full glass when my glass was empty. I don't know what it is about my face, but I'm glad that my magical free alcohol power still seems to be in full force. Then I ordered another glass just because, as well as some curly fries (also just because) and they gave me a friends and family discount, so I'm v. disposed to think kindly of them going forward.

More importantly, I got several good pages of writing done, and I'm excited about that. Then I came back to Chandlord's and helped her get ready for tonight (while also napping). She had a bunch of people over for dinner - the main event, in my opinion, was Claudia, but Chandlord's friends are pretty entertaining. There was a girl who also writes romance (although hers sounds smuttier than mine), and a bunch of hilarious guys, and some Germans, and various groups of the Indian subcontinent, and a v. strange guy from Texas (definitely the strangest guy in attendance). Our conversation alternated strangely between Malala, ChatGPT, camels, and Tennessee motels, and we ended fairly convinced that AI is going to destroy us sooner rather than later. But this was all excellent grist for the book mill, so hopefully I can write this book before the end.

And now, I really need to sleep so I can pursue additional plans tomorrow - goodnight!

i don't need no dollar bills to have fun tonight

After taking a series of public and private conveyances, I have arrived in New York City (which is not the home of Pace Picante Sauce, as you should know). This morning started off in the misty fog of Provincetown, where I showered and got a cab to the pier. The cab situation in Provincetown seems like kind of a racket - Uber and Lyft seem to be almost nonexistent. I called the cab company yesterday to book today's cab, since I knew I wouldn't be able to hail one, and it showed up on time - but it had two other people in it, one of whom was going to the ferry and one of whom was going to a pizza place. So it was almost more like a shuttle than a cab - and it cost me $8 for a four minute, <1mi -="" ancestor="" at="" but="" cabs="" didn="" exist="" guess="" had="" have="" hey="" i="" if="" it="" least="" mayflower="" me="" much="" my="" p="" probably="" ride="" so="" stuff="" t="" there.="" walked="" way="" which="" with="" worse="" would="">
So I got to the ferry and stood in line for half an hour, but I was glad I got there early - the ferry was sold out, and there were a bunch of people on standby because the Provincetown airport (serviced only by tiny planes) was closed because of the fog and so the plane passengers were trying to get on the boat instead. But because I was in line early, I was able to get an inside seat facing directly through the forward window, so I didn't get seasick (and didn't have to sit up in the open air and get rained on, which was my alternative).

The ferry was uneventful, and I took an uber to the train station, which took <10mins .="" a="" and="" ate="" before="" beings="" boarding="" bring="" by="" couldn="" from="" grabbed="" grew="" his="" human="" i="" into="" irate="" lunch="" manager="" mcdonald="" my="" nyc.="" p="" restaurant="" s="" salad="" some="" somewhat="" starbucks="" subpar="" surrounded="" t="" tea="" the="" them="" there="" they="" to="" told="" train="" when="" while="" who="">
The train ride was even more uneventful and completely on time. I made good use of my four hours on board and got some solid work done on the manuscript (mostly inputting changes recommended by my editor, of which there were not a ton, and sending her an email with clarifying questions).

I lied, though - some of the time I spent on the train was researching the last few cruises to St. Helena before St. Helena finally gets an airport. You do not care about this, but St. Helena is where Napoleon was exiled (for the second time) and died, and it vies with Easter Island for most remote island in the world. The last sailings were supposed to be right now, but I read this morning that the airport is dealing with a bunch of wind shear issues that are preventing them from starting passenger air service (lol wtf), and so the ship that services St. Helena (from Cape Town, five days away) is going to keep going at least through fall. And this, of course, got me thinking about travel and going to another place at the end of the world....so I sent an email to the boat operator asking for more info. This will most likely not happen, but if it does, I might celebrate my 35th birthday with whichever other crazy strangers are on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic sailing to nowhere, which seems about as appropriate as any other choices I've made in life.

sssanyway. I got into Penn Station a little before six, and then abandoned the disastrous taxi line and took an uber to Terry's. I got mildly soaked in the five steps from the taxi to her door since the skies opened up when I was in the car, but it was all good. Terry is in fine form - she has a puppy (Scout) who is quite adorable despite his foot fetish (I know my feet are adorable, but really, they don't need to be licked alllll the time). And we went almost immediately to dinner at Ribbon, chosen mostly because the food is great and it was v. nearby in case the rain came back (it didn't). I had some tasty short ribs with polenta, and she had quinoa (nothing changes), and we both had wine (again, nothing changes). And we caught up on a wide variety of topics - we still have more to discuss, I'm sure, but it was a great start.

Then we came back to her place and she wanted to watch tonight's 'Game of Thrones'. I watched with her even though I've seen none of it, but she stopped halfway in because she was falling asleep, and so I didn't get any spoilers beyond what I usually see on Twitter. I really do need to watch the whole thing at some point - maybe that's a good project to take on my boat ride to St. Helena!

And now I need to sleep - I have a ton of writing to do this week, and also a ton of socializing, and I'm planning to do both tomorrow, which means tonight must end at once. Goodnight!

can't feel my face

I had a generally good, albeit super quiet, day - this mostly involved sleeping until ten, which was awesome. And then I spent the midday/afternoon doing some romance work, wrapping some presents, and planning some 2016 stuff. The evening was similarly lowkey; we had supper, and then I watched some TV, and we made the unusual move of switching to PBS and watching a show about how King Herod built Temple Mount - the CBS show was 'Criminal Minds', which I hate, and watching a documentary was waaaay better.

The big thing on my mind right now is what to plan and where to go in 2016 - I need to start calendaring in which books I want to write + which places I want to visit, and figure out how to write as much as possible while also having more fun and exploring more things than I've done in the last few months. I have multiple trips already committed to (Hawaii and San Luis Obispo in February, Milwaukee in April, possibly Vegas in April (depending on whether I want to add that conference), San Diego in July, plus my usual 3+ trips to Iowa), and multiple things that I definitely want to add (NYC (maybe a couple of times), Paris/south of France for gargoyles research, possibly some of the great English country estates for regency research, something else beachy, maybe something in Asia or South America).

All of that combined is probably too much, as it turns out - especially if I want to write two historicals and finish the gargoyles and plot another series (or write my spinster honeymoon). But in case it hasn't been totally fucking obvious, I haven't been very productive while sitting in San Francisco, so it's hard to imagine that traveling could make it any worse - and if I can find the right cadence of alternating travel with hermiting, the added inspiration/joy could more than make up for the stresses of a more nomadic situation.

But we'll see - maybe by the time I get back to SF from Iowa, I'll never want to leave the city again. Now, I'm going to sleep and dream of all the things I want to do next year - goodnight!

i've got some secrets i forgot to mention

I'm going to Germany tomorrow! Yay!! It's amusing to me that I'm so excited about Germany given that I have v. hit or miss memories of that place (ulcers, love parades, concentration camps vs. weddings, love parades, castles). So, we'll see whether this German trip holds happiness or heartbreak...I'm predicting a mix of both, as it always is, but overlaid and undercut by a steady diet of wurst and alcohol. Yum.

Seriously, though, I'm v. excited, and looking forward to this trip is all that's gotten me through the last few weeks. The group I'm going early with is super fun, and the event I'm going to after is kind of a boondoggle, so that's all going to be awesome. But today was more of the same, although I worked from home so that I didn't have to deal with the commute. I worked on day job stuff very diligently until fiveish (with a break to buy a sandwich and an iced latte like a real person rather than someone who is fed for free all the time), and then I spent the evening packing, with a break to have dinner with Terry. And now I shall sleep...goodnight!

all your friends were so knocked out

Today was utterly lovely, and I shan't let myself freak out over the fact that I should have worked for fifteen hours on either the day job or the writing job. Instead, I took the day off (which, I must remind myself, is part of the plan, since I'm trying not to work one day a week) and hung out with Claudia, which was totally perfect. She let me sleep until ten, since she didn't get into the city until almost one, which gave me time to sleep and pack and shower and get ready without stress. I checked out of my room (I had to pay for the last two nights, so I stayed somewhere cheaper than the posh and ridiculous hotel I'm in for the next three nights) and met Claude at Grand Central, where we convened briefly to decide where to go before getting in a cab and heading for Chelsea. I had done some Yelp research and it didn't let us down - we ended up at Cookshop, where the wait was ~30mins (which we accomplished in a lean-to like structure that surrounded the front door, but lean-to makes it sound like Little House on the Prairie, and unless Pa was into hollandaise sauce and exotic bloody marys, this wasn't his kind of deal. Although if the graffiti on the Little House in the Big Woods was accurate, there may have been some bloody marys in his life...but I will send that memory back to the pit where it usually lurks to haunt me).

sssanyway. Cookshop was v. v. delicious, albeit somewhat overpriced. We each had the poached eggs with spinach, and we split sides of potatoes, grits, and bacon, so I was splendidly full after. We also had bloody marys, which I regret; I didn't think I was a fan of them, but I tried again, and I made the mistake of ordering one with mescal, so the smoky tequila-ish vibe was a little overwhelming on a then-empty stomach. But it was entertaining, as all my favorite drinks are.

So Claudia and I caught up for a couple of hours there. Then we walked outside, quickly froze, and so ducked into Chelsea Market to window shop at all the eateries that we were too stuffed to enjoy. But we bought some fancy Belgian chocolates for later and explored a bookstore that I may need to go back to, so that was nice. Then we wandered a few more blocks and stopped for caffeine and cocktails at a fun/weird mix between a bar/industrial space/downhome ice cream parlor/indeterminate theme. Whatever. The coffee was good and my cocktail didn't have mescal in it, so that was a plus.

Sometime around 5:30 we decided we should mosey, so we walked outside again. The cocktails may have cured our fear of frostbite, so we walked the thirty minutes or so that it took to get from the west side to the east side of Manhattan. We arrived at Mermaid Inn, which is my favorite place in New York, mostly because I have v. fond memories of Claudia, Ritu, and all the delicious oysters that have been slaughtered to satisfy our wicked appetites. We got there in time for happy hour, so we had a couple of glasses of wine and split twenty-four oysters (of both the east and west coast varieties), a couple of awesome crispy fish tacos and some french fries. I also looked the other way while Claude at some kale. They brought us little chocolate pots du creme for dessert, which was a perfect (albeit too filling) topper.

It was fantastic to see Claudia, and I have high hopes that she'll graduate someday (preferably this spring, since that's what she's aiming for) and will not be in New Haven anymore so that I can visit her someplace more exciting. But NYC will suffice as long as she's around here - in fact, I was joking with her today that I am probably destined to move here, since I'm feeling that passionate hate/love that I tend to feel whenever I'm on the brink of converting from 'I will never do that' to 'omg I must do that'. I last felt this way when I decided to start wearing leggings as pants, and I think it's time for a new passion.

But that's all neither here nor there. I dropped Claudia off at Grand Central so she could go back to her prison, then picked up my bags and checked into my new hotel, which is totally ridic. And now I must sleep since I need to get up early tomorrow and do a bunch of work before California wakes up - goodnight!

you don't remember, but i do

I was going to go to bed an hour ago, but I got distracted making a spreadsheet of my 2014 travel plans, which reveals that if I pursue all of the plans I currently have, I will be gone from home ninety days and will need thirty-five vacation days to accomplish all of this. Ha. This doesn't seem like a successful recipe for writing three books next year, although I suppose it doesn't count the long weekends and other corporate holidays, during which times I could theoretically do mini writing retreats to accomplish stuff. But between the day job (22 days), the romance conference circuit (28 days), my family life, and a vague dream of going to Paris again, I'll be getting in quite a bit of jetsetting this year (unless I hang it all and go live in a cabin somewhere).

But despite that dawning horror, today was good; I slept until almost noon, then spent the afternoon reading a book and helping to set up my mom's new tablet and the Chromecast that [censored] and I gave to our parents. So that was all v. good. We had leftover zucchini lasagna for dinner, and then I experienced some fine CBS programming ("The Millers", which was really funny) before coming downstairs and chatting with [censored] about [censored]. Then I read for another couple of hours, which a v. short break to almost fall asleep, followed by a burst of insight about what will happen in Thorington's story. I'm hopeful that I can plot this thing before I go back to work, but we shall see.

And now, I really should go to sleep so that I can get ten or so hours of sleep - goodnight!

i fell into a burning ring of fire

I really wanted to go to bed three hours ago, but as usually happens with me, I got a magical second wind that kept me working even when my eyeballs felt rather Saharan and my back curled up like a burning piece of paper. No, that second wind is not meth - ask my dentist for proof that I'm not a methhead. But wherever that second wind came from, it enabled me to take care of some minutiae for my romance writer career, write a much-belated journal entry, and generally get myself organized.

And really, that's what my day was - an attempt to get organized in the face of overwhelming task lists and self-inflicted pressures. I woke up earlier than I wanted to, which was still later than I should have, and took care of some tings before going upstairs and scrounging for the breakfast I had missed. Then I spent the afternoon taking care of more tings, including wrapping all the presents I needed to wrap, going with my father to Chariton to check out walkers for my grandmother (never thought I'd be a walker model, but since I'm only two inches taller than her, it turned out that it was good that I went along since I could test drive them), doing some more wrapping, watching some fine CBS programming, etc.

My break is going far too quickly, and I'm really not looking forward to going back, if only because next year is shaping up to be a crazier repeat of this year - I'm already signed up for as many or more trips than I took this year, and I want to write three books instead of writing one and releasing two, and I will probably have more work to do at the day job, and I want to see my friends at some point (and in this one instance, 'friends' means the people I knew from college/work, not the fine fellows at my favorite French bistro). Oh, and I want to keep working out and get more focused on my health. Soooo...that's all totally doable, right? But only if I get the year off on the right foot by getting in some deep, deep relaxation this week, so maybe I should put the laptop down and go on a tech moratorium. Ha. Something close to that wouldn't be a bad idea, though. Goodnight!

too many shadows, whispering voices, faces on posters, too many choices

Apologies for not blogging last night; usually I blog no matter how much alcohol I've consumed, but by the time I got home (sometime after two a.m.), I was a total wreck. We celebrated Terry's birthday yesterday (happy birthday, Terry!), which meant I capped off a week of sin and iniquity with one last rollercoaster binge before I got back to my regularly scheduled days of working nonstop. In fact, today was supposed to be one of those days, but since I was too wrecked to do anything, I had to settle for sitting on the couch and staring at the television (lame).

Yesterday started off tame; I got up at 7:30 (shocking), puttered around the house, and then did a bit of work before showering - I cleaned my room, printed out a clean copy of Alex and Prudence's story so I can read it and start editing, and did some financial tings. Then I showered, put on a dress, and accompanied Terry to a festive birthday brunch at the fancy French bistro where I sometimes write. Chandlord and Katrina met us there, and it turns out the breakfast food there is fantastic - I'd never had brunch there, but my omelette forestiere was fantastic. I usually don't like omelettes because they can be dry, but these eggs were perfectly cooked, and the bacon/mushrooms/onions on top were also excellent. We split a bottle of champagne with orange juice for mimosas, and generally had a v. lovely time catching up. Unfortunately, I made a mistake adding up my meal + gratuity and was off by a dollar, which wasn't a big deal obvi, but it kind of became a big deal because Chandlord called me on it and then it became clear that I am known for an almost robotic tendency to always be correct about stuff. So that was both hilarious and vaguely terrifying. But if that was my one mistake for the year, I'll take it.

After brunch, we walked Chandlord to Van Ness so she could meet up with Tom Foolery, and then Terry and I came home to recuperate. She watched football and took a nap, but I slogged on with my financial stuff (I'm trying to get Sara Ramsey's house in order - it may be time to set up a business, but I've been avoiding it thus far and am debating how long I can continue without incorporating her). At six, though, I threw in the towel, and Terry and I had a drink at a wine bar on Fillmore, which was an excellent spot. Then we met up with Lauren (aka Subz) for what was supposed to be a v. quiet and sedate birthday dinner.

And it started quiet and sedate; we ordered a bottle of wine and a couple of appetizers (the plantains were to die for), and continued to imbibe over dinner (which, for me, was also to die for - I had a churrasco steak that was out of this world good, grilled perfectly and served with plantains and a fried egg on top, which was shockingly good). Then we ordered another bottle of wine. Why, when there were only three of us, I'm not quite sure, but it seemed like a great idea at the time. And since I think we all expected we'd call it a night shortly after that, it would have been entirely reasonable to drink that much with dinner.

But then as we were leaving, we walked by a fortune teller's sign, and Lauren and I decided to make Terry get her fortune read. So we went up and bought her a palm reading, which we got to sit and observe, which was quite hysterical. The fortune teller told her to avoid Irishmen (because they are awful) and to look for an Italian or Persian guy, or possibly an Armenian or a Spaniard. And then she told Terry that she should go to the W Hotel bar to meet someone (this is relevant later).

So we dragged Terry down the street to another bar, where I had 2.5 cocktails (I believe Lauren did too, but Terry was v. cleverly avoiding her drinks, which is where my .5 cocktail came from) and interacted briefly with some very douchey guys. Then we decided that the W bar was in Terry's destiny, so we cabbed over there and had another drink or two there while chatting to some dudes who were v. entertaining (but also married, so tanks for nothing, fortune teller!). It should be clear to you by now that I was approximately ten drinks in at this point, which explains why I was such a mess today. We finally left there, came home, I somehow miraculously made it into bed, and I slept the sleep of the intoxicated (made slightly less lovely because I forgot to tell my fitness bracelet that I was going to sleep, so it buzzed me every 45 minutes to tell me to get up and walk around).

This morning, needless to say, was a nightmare, and I felt extremely ill (although I wasn't actually sick). Terry ordered me a pizza since I was too hungover to even contemplate walking down the street for my usual huevos rancheros hangover cure, and I sat on the couch and watched football, which is a sign of how messy I was. Then I eventually showered, took care of a couple of minor things, talked to my parents, talked to Terry's brothers (who came over), watched some "Drunk History" with them (I would be a fabulous narrator for that show), and then talked to [censored]. And now, I must sleep; I have to work tomorrow, which should not surprise you, but I also want to get out early so that I can hole up in a coffeeshop and read Alex and Prudence. Goodnight!

the time has come to galvanize

I was totally wrecked all day today, but last night was worth it. I woke up at seven and couldn't go back to sleep, which means I was under-rested for my writing date this morning - but it allowed me to go down the street for some restorative huevos rancheros first, so that was good. Then I met up with Kathia and caught up with her for a bit before commencing zee work; I'm trying to plot the next novel on my list (featuring the villain in Prudence's story), and this is a good time to do it since I am trying to keep from opening Prudence and Alex's book so I can come back to it with fresh eyes next weekend. I didn't get very far this morning, but given that everything was spinning and I felt like death, the amount of progress I made was actually astonishing.

After writing, I came home, cleaned the kitchen to restore it to its former glory, and then took a nap. Then I talked to zee parents, who were in fine form, although it's like a million degrees there, which makes me feel silly for complaining about yesterday's one day of heat in San Francisco. The fog is back and I can hear the horns tonight, which is v. comforting. After talking to them, I ate some nachos (dinner of champions), watched some football with Terry (clearly I couldn't comprehend the thought of doing anything, since I had no desire to watch football), then came upstairs and took a v. restorative bubble bath. Then I made some notes on the not-so-secret young adult non-gargoyle book that I pick up and put away again in the breaks between my historical romances; I kind of want to finish it this year, but we'll see whether I have the time. And now that I've exhausted myself just thinking of it, I'm going to go to bed early so I can get nine hours of sleep before work tomorrow. Goodnight!

the dog days are over

I'm pretty happy with how much I got done today, even if I deeply, deeply regret that I have to go to work on Monday. I could really use a full week (or month) of writing to get this book done, but I'm not going to get it. Boo.

However, I made good progress today. I met up with my friend Kathia for a writing date, and I wrote for close to three hours before throwing in the towel and parting ways with her. Then I grabbed lunch and wrote for another couple of hours. However, I needed a bit of a break tonight, so Terry and I walked down to Chestnut so that I could buy overpriced hand soap and look at new laptops at the Apple store (I refrained from the laptop, but the soap was kind of a necessity). Then we picked up salads, came back, and watched the second episode of this season of "Project Runway", in which we realized that Millennials are taking over the reality tv space and that the world is going to really suck as they continue to take over more of the workforce. Two different youngish twenty-somethings made the most hideous dresses ever, but one of them was really proud to have not given up, and the other was super-confident that she was the best evening-wear designer ever until she saw her dress compared to the other dressed people put up, and then she sobbed so hard about how awful her dress was that they had to stop the runway show so that Tim could console her. I mean, really, wtf? Get your shit together and sew a damn dress or get off the show. Or get the kids off my damn lawn, as the case may be. Yes, I'm becoming a curmudgeon.

After that, I excused myself from the living room and came upstairs, where I successfully wrote for the last three hours or so. I got through the awkward first scene with Prudence's mom, which I'd been putting off for a couple of months, so that's good news. And maybe Alex and Prudence will have sex tomorrow! Isn't that exciting? In preparation for that awkwardness, I suppose I should sleep -- goodnight!

the bleeding love, the silent escape

I'm full-on exhausted...so much for taking it easy this week. But I slogged a full day at work, and slogged for a couple of hours before work to test the new epub/kindle files for Heiress and Scotsmen on all my devices, and start formatting the print version of Marquess since I'm woefully behind on that and want to get it in processing this weekend. Blergh. I'm 97% happy with my decision to self-publish, but the other 3% is a mixture of annoyance/regret that no editor loved me enough to buy me (yes, my self-worth is inextricably linked to what I've written), plus the exhaustion that comes from having to do all the hours and hours and days and weeks of work to create the whole reading experience rather than just writing the damn book and being done with it. I'm actually really good at the packaging aspect, and I'm pretty efficient at it...but I'm totally exhausted from it too. I'm hoping that I'll be done with all these stupid little tasks in the next few days so that I can focus on Alex and Prudence...

...but then I realized that I had blocked off this weekend in my head to a) read five books that I have to judge for a contest AND b) do my taxes AND c) format the print version of Marquess AND d) take a break. Hahahahahahahaha.

sssanyway. Today was brutal, since I slogged nonstop, then tried to catch a bus home, which was delayed ten minutes for mechanical issues. Since I think it was the same bus (or at least same time) as the bus that broke down on me earlier this week, there was no way in hell I was getting on it. So, I went to In-and-Out and had a protein-style double-double, which was slightly restorative. Then I worked at work for an hour. Then I tried to catch another bus, which was also ten minutes late, and which took well over an hour to get me home since traffic sucked.

By the time I arrived, I was in no mood to look at a screen, so I talked to Terry briefly, and then read a Christmas novella (not my usual cup of tea, but I have to judge it for that contest, and I actually really enjoyed it). And now I must sleep so that I can get up and do all of this again tomorrow - goodnight!

don't you worry, don't you worry child

Um. So, I have news. And the news is that I started back at my former place of employment today. I didn't share any of this because a) from what I've read (in a book), it's ill advised to share information about pending job offers, interviews, etc. on such a public forum (to all four of you who read this), and b) if I didn't get the offer, I didn't want to feel all weird and embarrassed about it (although I would have been seriously miffed).

sssanyway, so what happened was that someone I used to work with contacted me in December about a role with the books team related to self-publishing, which is obviously right up my alley (or 'in my wheelhouse', as the business people like to say these days). So I interviewed for it approximately a day and a half after I finished the previous draft of my book (ill-advised, since I hadn't slept) and four days before I went home for the holidays. I got the offer while I was escorting my writer friend around SF, accepted it, and started today. This has all been mind-bendingly fast, and I'm super, super excited about the job - an enthusiasm that probably isn't coming across because I sort of stopped sleeping in an attempt to finish all the things I wanted to finish before returning to the man. So I spent most of today pounding caffeine and trying not to fall asleep during videos I've already seen.

But today was great; I made it into work and into orientation in a reasonably on-time fashion (read half an hour late, but that was entirely due to an accident on 101, and all I missed was everyone else standing in line to finish paperwork), got set up with my laptop, etc., and sat through an orientation on a company that I had spent more time at than most of the people giving the orientation. Heh. Then my manager picked me up and showed me my desk, and I'm v. excited to actually meet the team tomorrow and get started with something other than learning what the health insurance provider options are, etc.

Post work, I drove back to the evil city (which feels more evil with every mile I spend commuting) and had dinner with Lauren (aka Subz), which was a lovely way to catch up and decompress after my first day of work. And now, at the ridiculously early hour of 10:30pm, I need to go to bed; I'm going to try taking the shuttle tomorrow, which means I need to get out of the house at a specific time, which means sleep is imperative.

Upon rereading of this post (I do occasionally skim for typos because I care about you guys!), I realize that I don't sound very enthusiastic. That's not the intended takeaway - but I'm not sure there *is* an intended takeaway. Today was just v. strange and surreal, because I was back in a place where I spent almost all of my adult life, and it felt like I had never left, and yet the last two years have been such a dramatically different experience that I think it will be an adjustment period for me to get used to business, working with people, wearing pants, etc. The truth is that I'm super, super psyched for the job itself, but the lifestyle changes around it are going to feel a bit surreal. But that's to be expected, and really, I'm kind of looking forward to wearing pants again. So yay to that. Goodnight!

she said you're like a disease without any cure

First, a warning: at some point in the next few months, this blog is going away.

I know, tragic (or not tragic, if you never got why I write drivel here every night). However, all things come to an end. And while I don't want to end this and don't intend to stop blogging, I do have hopes that I will sell enough books to make a living for the rest of my life -- and if that happens, just about every author I know who's made it big has picked up a stalker along the way. I read MISERY at a v. young and impressionable age, and the last thing I want is to be trapped by some crazy woman who cuts off my finger and uses it as my birthday candle (I mean, I already escaped living with Adit -- how much more can I be expected to endure in one lifetime?).

And really, if you've read my blog for more than five days, it would be laughably easy to figure out my routines and patterns. I'm pretty sure if I asked any of you to name three places I eat regularly, or who my trainer is, or what neighborhood I live in, or the names of three people I hang out with, you'd have no trouble at all, even if you don't live in the city and have never been to any of these places yourself.

So. Option 1 is to lock this blog, give all regular readers the password, and continue as normal. But I don't know how easy/hard it is to hack into (I'm guessing somewhat easy for someone determined enough to want to turn my skin into a cape), and I don't know what remains in Google's cache forever after a blog is locked. Doing a Google search for a locked blog I know of turned up no results...so maybe that would work. But that would require asking everyone who reads this blog to sign up for an account, which would probably result in attrition.

Option 2 is to make this blog private only to me, then start a new blog whose address is shared with all current readers, but using code words for friends/places. That could be fun! It would be like a puzzle! But you'd still have to request access, since obvi I can't link between the two publicly, and you'd have to guess what the code words mean (unless I sent around a one-time key/glossary and trust that all y'all aren't trying to stalk me).

Option 3 is to delete this blog, start blogging fresh at sarawampler.com (which I've owned forever and done absolutely nothing with - it's a joke and an embarrassment), but blog there as though I know it's going to be public knowledge. Same as Option 2, I'd have to create code names for places/people. But what I would lose by having to be a bit more circumspect, I might gain in the long run if I ever write fiction under my real name and need to have an established web presence about something other than my champagne consumption and hermitville.

I don't know, friends! What do you vote for? If you're the one voting for me to get kidnapped by a stalker, please warn me so I don't invite you to the new blog!

In other news, today was a day full of productivity, with a lovely break to hang out with Tammy (aka Tammmmeh - I've already thought of a code name for her, but I won't share it yet). She was in town v. briefly and asked me at the last minute if I wanted to have lunch at Samovar, which I was more than happy to do. So we hung out for exactly two hours (the length of time I could park my car for free), and much fun was had even if she did grill me on the sex scenes in my book. Then I came home and slogged all afternoon/evening/night, with a v. brief break to watch some Craig and eat some leftover chili. My to-do list is ridiculously, appallingly long, and I'm trying to clear it in the next few days so that I can start writing Nick and Ellie next week. But it's going to be rough...and since I know it will be rough, I should probably get some sleep. Goodnight!

all is quiet on new year's day

Hello, 2012, you sexy beast. This must surely be the best year ever -- my first books will come out, there will be a glorious Olympic Games in London, and everyone will spend the entire year looking forward to the Mayan apocalypse. Really, if ever a year was designed just for me, this may be it.

This is also the start of my ninth year of blogging; I will ominously warn you that the blog may not last forever, since I hope to become an increasingly public figure in the writing sphere, and so this blog will either have to go on lockdown, or I will have to change the focus and stop blogging about what I do every day in case I get a stalker who could easily use my blog to track my movement patterns. I don't want to lock it down or stop it, but if I decide I have to, I'll give you plenty of warning so we can all mourn together.

sssanyway, today was a lovely start to the new year. It was also a v. spinny start to the new year; I woke up with hangover-induced spins, which really didn't go away all morning, which was unfortunate since I was cooking brunch for seven. I got out of bed around 8:30, showered, hung out with Claudia (aka Santy Claude, aka Claud the Fraud) and Terry, and then started cooking. Claude helped me tremendously, essentially acting as sous chef; she set the table and cut up the potatoes/peppers/onions for homefries, which saved my trembly hands from causing a catastrophic kitchen emergency. She also discovered that every cocktail she made for us last night was inadvertently a double since I guessed wrong on how much alcohol the jigger held, which explains why I was blind drunk off two and a half champagne cocktails and some extra champagne on top of it.

I made an awesome (if I do say so myself) egg casserole/frittata with spinach, leeks, cottage cheese, and goat cheese, as well as home fries, bacon, ambrosia, and chocolate chip scones (gluten free, natch). The ambrosia and scones were done last night, and today's tasks weren't particularly difficult -- a good thing, since whisking fourteen eggs made me feel dizzy because the whisk was rotating at a different speed than the room. Ugh. But I was able to put on a good front for my guests; I was in a great mood, despite my hangover, and so once I was sitting down and somewhat stable, it was easy to be enthusiastic rather than wretched.

Terry and Claude were already here, obvi, but Chandlord, Katrina, John, and Jess all came over too, and we enjoyed a delightful couple of hours together. Many jokes were told and many stories were shared, all of which warmed my heart and reminded me how much I like my friends, even if they did call out the accent that I apparently always come back with after spending time in Iowa (it's apparently subtle, and it disappears within a few days, but if it does exist, I'm sure it's in full force right now since I've spent four of the last six weeks at home). Of course, all good things come to an end, and so when everyone else was gone, Claude helped me clean up and load the dishwasher before Terry and I dropped her off at the BART station. I then spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out, calling my parents, contemplating my book, talking to Terry, etc.

And that's really how the rest of the day went as well. When it was suppertime, I cooked up another package of bacon and some chicken breasts, and Terry and I made a Cobb salad, which wasn't quite as good as Joanie's but was decent enough to satisfy. Then we watched some tv, including this show called "Leverage" that I've never seen but would probably love, and then I came upstairs and wrote in my journal (which is one of my 2012 goals). And now I really must sleep; I have to go down to Palo Alto tomorrow, and I want to write before I go, so wish me luck. Goodnight, and happy new year!

keep the faith

My horoscope for today pretty much sums it up: "Your key planet Mercury is up against a formidable adversary today as it squares powerful Pluto. You may have shared an idea or started a project in the past few days, yet now you might feel as if your task is more challenging than you thought. Nevertheless, you feel unstoppable and aren't in the mood to negotiate. But your uncharacteristic aggression can create more problems than you realize. Take several deep breaths and think your next steps through before you swing into action."

As I've hinted already, I'm entering a workaholic mode and am already feeling like the wine bus on Saturday is going to be one glorious last hurrah before I barricade myself for the next few months/years. The last bit of disappointment over not selling my second book is slowly leaching out of my system; similar to the first book, the initial months were the hardest (full of despair and bleak thoughts and wanting to pull the covers over my head), then I went through a period of depressed resignation (not helped in this instance by my ulcer friend), and now I'm in the fired-up 'let's try this again' mood in which I want to write something amazing and take over the world. I can't help but think of Chumbawamba in this instance, although I wish that I hadn't. Granted, there are still a few editors who still have it, but neither my agent nor I feel particularly optimistic about our prospects. Amusingly enough, Jenn had just gotten a rejection before I talked to her this morning; this rejection even praised my "assured and lyrical voice" and my "feisty heroine", but said that my writing reminds her too much of another author they're already publishing. Grr.

So, the end. Or rather, the beginning. Jenn and I had an excellent conversation, and while I'm still mulling over the exact path I want to take and the insane amount of work required to traverse it, I think both my heart and my gut are aligned on the path I need to take. All of my myriad talents make me a great test candidate for self-publishing at this stage of the industry -- I have the writing talent (award-winning stories that get rejected by editors because they don't have space on their lists, not because they hate my guts), I have the tech skills, and I have the marketing and business knowledge to take a stab at it without being completely clueless. It's just taken several months to get over the dream of a glorious three-book deal (which Jenn thought would happen; she was as surprised as I was that we didn't sell) and align myself to a new, different, riskier dream.

And that was the agent chat. We discussed more of the business and logistics end and I have some decisions to make about how I work with her and what I do first, but the main thing is that I'm moving forward on *something*. And I can't express how good that feels after several months of traveling about like I hadn't a care in the world, giving myself an ulcer over my disappointment, and letting my self-doubt consume me. So if I do go all crazy workaholic on you in the next few months, give me awhile before you stage an intervention; I need some work time for awhile to get my dreams back on track.

Post agent chat, I had to urgently deal with the last details of our trip to Napa on Saturday. That left me precious little time to eat lunch, so I grabbed a protein box from Starbucks (that sounds more ominous than it is -- I don't think it's human, but it does have an egg, some cheese, peanut butter, apples, grapes, and some sort of biscuity thing) on my way to my hair appointment with Susie. I went shorter than I have in ages; while it's still long enough to cover my collarbones, it's no longer long enough to cover my breasts, and I kept being surprised when I was playing with it tonight and my hand ran out of hair several inches sooner than it usually does. It looks great, though, and I'm excited to have cut my hair-drying time by at least a third. Post-Susie, I came home, did some more winery stuff, grabbed a v. late lunch/early dinner at Roam (burgers, yum), then came home and took a nap. It was absurdly hot in the city today, so hot that it was still 77 degrees when Terry and I went out later in the evening, which is almost unheard of.

Terry's footsteps coming up the stairs awoke me from my nap, and I sprang up all eager for our planned wine bar excursion, but she had been rearended on the freeway on the way home and was understandably shaken by that. Her car wasn't badly damaged, but she was feeling a bit of whiplash (my non-medical diagnosis; WebMD would probably tell her it was spinal cancer), so we hung out at home for awhile while she dealt with the insurance company. We still went out, though, and had a glass of wine at Ottimista Enoteca, conveniently (or dangerously) located two blocks from our house. The place was lovely, even if I did horrify the host by asking for ice; I wanted it for my water, but he clearly thought I was going to dump it in my lovely glass of montepulciano. Terry and I caught up over our wine (and I stopped at a glass even though I wanted a second -- there will be time enough for multiple glasses of wine, and that time is Saturday), then came home and watched last week's "Project Runway". She went to bed, I continued rereading the book I finished two years ago, and eventually decided I should go to bed rather than reading when I was no longer awake enough to think.

And so, goodnight -- tomorrow looks different than I had hoped it would six months ago, but I'm excited anyway. I should also take a brief moment to give a shout-out to my sister, whose birthday was today - yay! For the rest of you, you also get a yay, but without the exclamation point. Goodnight!

one day you're in...the next day, you're out

So, dear readers, the time has come to announce something that I've been keeping closer to the vest for the past month: I've resigned my position with my current employer and am going to spend the next couple of years writing full-time. I'm finally divulging it on the blog because today marked an important milestone: we filed my resignation officially in the system, and my last day will be October 15. That's three weeks from tomorrow, for those of you keeping score, and is going to come extremely fast; when I originally resigned in August, I told the big boss I would stay until we found my replacement, but since we're looking externally and the hiring process can easily take six to nine months, I decided that I didn't want to drag it out that long. She was her usual v. good self about it, letting me leave on the date requested without making any arguments, although she did say she didn't know what they would do without me, etc.

This is all crazy and wonderful and terrifying. When I left work to go to class yesterday, I was both elated and scared, and the adrenaline was definitely flowing. I've been with this company for seven years, and it's the only full-time job I've ever had. I love my coworkers (well, most of them), believe in our mission, and think that the company will do some amazing things in the years and decades ahead. And it was a v. tough decision; I was flipping through the exit survey I have to take, and I realized that a lot of the questions don't really apply to me. I'm not leaving because I'm dissatisfied (even if I was sometimes bored or stressed), and the big boss is amazing to work with, which is probably why I stayed as long as I did.

Instead, I'm leaving because I've been feeling for a long time that the more time I spend focused on a corporate career, the less time I have to pursue my real dreams and try to turn them into reality. The company I work for is amazing, but it's not my dream -- and it's time to spend my energies on my own projects.

I'm staying in California while I do this (unless I decide to travel for awhile next year, but we'll see) because I realized when I took my sabbatical that writing is already isolating enough without the added problem of doing it someplace with a v. limited social circle. My savings would go much farther in a cheaper place, but I would also end up massively depressed, which would sort of defeat the purpose of taking some time to focus on my passions. So, those of you who are in California should be prepared for me to make lunch/dinner/movie plans more often, if only so I get out of the house and don't go crazy.

Obviously that's the biggest thing going on right now; everything else is just noise. I slogged all day today, since I have a ton of work to get done before I leave, and had lunch with John (I will miss working someplace where I can say 'meet me at the dinosaur in five minutes' and then meet up with someone at a life-sized skeletal replica of a t-rex). I left around six-thirty, came home, made dinner because I was ravenous, and then called my mother. I accidentally fell asleep and then spent a couple of hours taking care of a variety of tasks after I woke up, so I didn't do any writing tonight. Since I don't have any plans this weekend, there will be time enough for writing later -- for now, I'm going to do one last thing for the soon-to-be-dead day job, and then go to sleep. Goodnight!

Daily word count: - (0% of goal)
Productive time: 0hrs
RescueTime productivity rating: -- (global average: 0.88)

imma be, imma be, imma imma imma be

I was remarkably productive today, particularly considering that I got up late and drove down to work late to avoid the worst of the rain-soaked commute. Once I got there, though, I got a lot done; I slogged all day, with a break for lunch with Regina-madam, one of the expats from the old India crew. It was great to catch up with her, and hopefully I'll see her sooner than the amount of time between this lunch and our last lunch. Then, I slogged the rest of the afternoon, but I managed to get out of there a little before six to do some writing.

I don't know why, but I've had multiple conversations in the last week (none initiated by me, I assure you) about what was going on with my dating life and when I might get married so that I can start popping out children. Apparently I'm suddenly hitting the age where these questions are logical and somewhat urgent. Rather than confronting the dating issue, I ordered several different trial eye moisturizers from Sephora.com, in the hopes that if I reduce the dark circles under my eyes, I will suddenly look twenty-five again and these conversations will stop happening with such frightening regularity. I'll let you know how that strategy works out for me.

Anyway, after being thwarted by Cafe Borrone last night, I wanted to give it another shot, so after work I went over there and had a sandwich and a mocha while writing about four pages of zee romance novel. I finally threw in the towel around eight p.m., drove back to the evil city, and did about an hour of work for the day job (the big boss is in town this week, hence the slightly longer hours -- but I also went in late, so this was totally fine). Then I typed up the work that I had done at Borrone, and now it's time to go to bed so that I can get to work in time for big boss's staff meeting. Goodnight!

we were perfect when we started, i've been wondering where we've gone

Despite my relative lack of productivity at the day job (or perhaps because of it), today was quite lovely. It was all writing focused (with the exception of the pieces of work that didn't involved writing emails or thinking about communications, which were pretty small -- oh, and with the exception of my retinseling endeavor, to be described in a bit). I won't bore you with the details of the day job; suffice it to say that I blew that popsicle stand at 4:30, stopped at 7-11 to grab whatever snacks I could find (an excuse to buy that deliciously awful Tostitos salsa con queso), and headed to Stanford for my last creative writing class of the quarter.

I had arranged to meet the instructor and hour before class started at the cafe on the second floor of the bookstore, and so I got to see a bunch of college kids milling around the redesigned, almost desecrated White Plaza. I really like the instructor, and I wanted to hear her perspective; she was at the creative writing program at Iowa, and then became a Stegner fellow at Stanford, so she has seen several writing programs and has been thinking seriously about writing as a career for awhile. Her opinions about all of this were quite interesting; having gone through it, she seemed to think that the primary advantage of a writing program is to build a community of other writers whom you can work with as readers and critique partners. Of course, the ability to devote some serious time to writing is a plus as well -- but, she seemed almost wistful about not having a more standard, higher-paying job, and thought it sounded like I have it pretty good.

Sadly, I'm an ungrateful wench who refuses to see how good I have it, so what I do with her advice remains to be seen. She pretty much confirmed my own suspicions that an MFA probably isn't for me, but the bottom line is that I need to find a way, somehow, somewhere, to eke out more time to write (both zee romance novels and more literary fiction, and possibly squeezing in some young adult epic sagas that I've been brainstorming as well). If I can't quit writing, move to a cave someplace, embrace a harshly ascetic lifestyle (complete with trading my Stuart Weitzmans for newspaper-stuffed gumboots and my lovely maxstudio dresses for flour sacks cinched in with twine), and write full-time, I at least need to get more serious about it in my off-time and stop procrastinating so much.

After our discussion, we walked over to the quad, where we met up with the rest of the class. It really was a great group; the caliber of the other students was pretty high and everyone was working on stories that interested me, so I found it useful despite the fact that I didn't really have time for it this quarter. We spent tonight doing a potluck (complete with a lot of wine, which seemed to lead to a degeneration of the discussion of "Last Summer of the World" that led to a couple of guys digging a really deep hole in a female-dominated class about how a guy living in prewar France who had a couple of affairs with dancers was probably normal and a good husband, and that the wife who divorced him over it was overreacting). Then, we all went around and read a couple of pages of one of our favorite authors, as well as a couple of pages of something else we've written that we feel good about. I chose to read a page from Haruki Murakami's "A Wild Sheep Chase"; my choices were limited because almost all of my books are in storage, but this is a book that I go back to occasionally, and I think the time to read it again is fast approaching.

Class got out late, so I got home at 10:30, and spent 45 minutes or so retinseling my hair. I've gotten pretty good at doing it myself; I think I put in ~12 strands of green and six strands of gold (St Patrick's Day theme, obviously), and pulled out the 12-16 strands of other colors that were in my hair from the Olympics. And now, I really need to get some sleep so that I can be more productive tomorrow -- goodnight!

and the always enjoyable giant inflatable beaver

Bob Costas says some silly things almost every time he opens his mouth (must be a side effect of the cryogenic freezing he goes under between each Olympics to keep him from aging), but his comment about the giant inflatable beavers during the closing ceremonies was particularly choice.

I can't believe the Olympics are over -- with the end of both the Olympics and the conference planning that had consumed every waking moment of the past few months, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. It almost feels like I've graduated from college or something and have an entirely clean slate of untapped possibility ahead of me. Clearly that's a massive overreaction, given that my sole participation in the Games is watching is compulsively, and I don't do any training in the years between Olympics (other than hyping it up any chance I get). But, my March will be v. different from my February -- and hopefully it will be different in a way that keeps me on track to have a full rough draft of my second book by mid-April so that I can edit and finish it in time for my self-set June deadline. Crazy, right? But, if I'm going to be a novelist, I have to set a pace and stick with it, and that's the pace I need to set if I'm going to be not just a novelist, but a novelist who escapes from the gilded cage that is my current job for an equally gilded (but less cagey) paradise of self-supporting writing.

Anyway, dreams of writing glory aside, I adored these Olympics -- and I cannot WAIT for Sochi in 2014. The graft, the scandals, and the corruption leading up to the Games in Russia will be awe-inspiring. I'm really tempted to try to go to those Games; Sochi is on the Black Sea, closer to Georgia than to Moscow, and will likely be a complete madhouse, so London in 2012 would probably be a better choice. But, I do love me some good chaos, and the first non-boycotted Games on Russian soil would likely provide just that.

Now, sadly, I should go to bed, and weep warm, salty tears over the closing of the past two weeks. Luckily, 2012 is only two years away! While I will be thirty years old during those Games (perish the thought), I don't think I'm going to retire from the sport of obsessive watching just yet...I have a few more Olympics in me before I have to make any difficult decisions.

Oh, and the rest of my day was fine too, thanks for asking - Samovar, some writing, a conversation with my parents, the finale of my tax preparations, and laundry (which Adit says is my version of a party). And now, goodbye Vancouver, goodbye Olympics, goodbye February (and happy birthday to Santy Claude), goodbye two weeks of limited sleep -- hello March!