Kage Baker died a year ago today – January 31st, at 1:15 in the morning.
I haven’t said all I need to say about her, not by a long shot – but the worst year of my life is over; I can put off my mourning black and wear cheerful purple instead. I can look back to a year ago and see something – anything! – besides Kage’s death. I made it.
Also, at 1:13 in the morning this morning, I finished Nell Gwynne II; Or, Who We Did On Our Summer Holiday. It is done. Today I’ll do some necessary clean up and spell-checking, and send it off to Linn-the-agent, the most patient woman in the world.
It’s a nice little steampunk romance, set in the semi-tropical splendour of Torquay, Devon. Even the Ladies of Nell Gwynne go on holiday … Boy meets girls, boy loves girls, girls sink boy’s fiendish submersible gun platform in the cold, cold sea. Boy runs off to Australia to sulk, girls return home to their high-class London brothel with a bucket of seashells and a new fox terrier. Ta-da!
I hope and pray this will not disgrace the name of Kage Baker. I don’t think it will.
Now off to correct my execrable spelling – now, that was one of the pains of her life …