Kage Baker was a firm believer in the theory that the Universe waits to see when you are busy, tired, or flush with unexpected cash. Then it sends you a virus from space, or a tax audit, or an out-of-town visitor, or something vital on the car goes moldy (that happened once …). Most of these disasters she could lay off on support staff, but when what Fate saved up and sent was work … well, she had to handle that herself.
Now I get it all. This is especially unfair on a day of crystalline puffy clouds and a sharp North wind out of nowhere, when all I want to do is curl up with a novel and a cup of coffee and a cat and a parrot and some chocolate-raspberry biscuits. I want to watch the cloud shadows on the greening trees, and rejoice in being warm (the heat has transmuted – again – into the breath of frost giants). I want to take an afternoon nap.
But … today TWONG II had to to the actual publisher (he says he’s delighted to have it. I am suddenly terrified.) There are plans afoot for a Best of Kage Baker volume, and all the story files had to be sent off. There are also plans afoot for a volume of Martian stories – of which there are only 3 extant, and a heck of a lot of notes. Would I like to see an E-book of Hotel Under the Sand? I have been invited to consider being a co-editor on a tribute volume for Kage: stories in her worlds, written by her author buddies – she did several of these herself and thought them great fun. But first one needs a guest list before the dance can begin, right? Right.
And the nephew would shyly like help with a term paper (and I am always saying Oh, honey, just ask, it’s what I do …) And the little black cat must be petted immediately or she will die, noisily, in the middle of my keyboard. And the parrot is jealous and making little soft come-hither whistles to get his own head petted.
I need the patience of Job and the determination of Athena. And the arms of Kali. I need to be haunted. But … as Kage used to say, Needs must when the Devil rides behind you with a turnip. I am not sure what the hell that ever meant, but it always sounded undeniably urgent.
So – 20 files sent off to the publisher, and the manuscript for TWONG II. Send an explication of the Mars project and how little there is and what it will take to finish it. Start sending invitations to numerous busy authors asking for a little of their time for a little of someone else’s money. And yes, I’d love to see an e-book of Hotel!
This certainly puts paid to my weary middle-of-the-night plans to become a fungus on the stump of life.