Where Personal and Professional Life Collide...

My life in 8 words: Organized chaos, by preference. Exhausting, but never boring

[sticky post]Laura Anne's Almost Inevitably Incomplete* Bibliography!
casual photo
Welcome! This entry is for newcomers wondering 'who is this Gilman person, anyway,' and a reminder to the old hands about what's forthcoming and already-written.

It's getting...rather long.  0-0
UPDATED 12/26/14 Collapse )

This is only just to say...
winsome boomer
This is my first time working a holiday weeken at a tasting room, and so far all I have to say is that it's the fun, happy-making kind of ohmyfuckinggod exhausting.  :-)

And one of the more amusing moments came when a group of 30-somethings came in on Friday, and were teasing each other, and one of them said something that was on the surface reasonably innocent but really wasn't, and I cracked up - and they saw that and were all "she knows what that meant!"

Oh, children. Yes, you invented innuendo and gay slang, you totally did. But we rolled with it, causing me to at one point say "don't tease the person pouring your wine." And they became perfect little angels. :-)


The next three days are going to be kind of CRAMMED with things offscreen (I've got a draft to finish, plus two tasting room shifts to work and cats to haul to the catsitters before I head to NYC/Boston), so I may be least-in-sight for a bit.

And I seem to have a book launching into the world somewhere in there.  Huh.  Fancy that.

So if you miss me, you could always show the love by, oh, going to pick up a copy of CLAWED, which lands on Tuesday, officially, or maybe leaving a review for one of the earlier Kornetsky books on your favorite social media or bookselling site...

Sunset and Moonrise
citron presse
Lacking content (because today was exhausting), I give you pretties.


Midweek rollup and countdown
madness toll
I am not where I want to be with this second pass draft.

Howsomever, I have gotten to and halfway through the point where, in first pass draft, I thought "I''ll figure that out/fix that later." And lo it is later, and I have in fact figured it out. Fixed... well, that's for 3rd pass to determine, not now.

And I'm within the "yeah we're good" word count. So there is no stress on that side. I will add more, especially after the Research Road Trip gives me specific color and context, but the 100K word length is a more-or-less done thing (and m'editor always pokes at things that need adding in HIS pass, too)

I'd pluck you a bit in-progress, but it's spoilers all the way down, from here on.

And I finally got off my ass and took the MAST test, so I'm now legally certified to open, serve and sell wine in Washington State, well within the legal time for me to get said certification.

And I was interviewed by Adventures in SF Publishing podcast. So that'll go up at some point. They managed to put me to the blush, people. It takes very specific skills to do that... (about what? well, you'll just have to listen, won't you)

And now I need to cook up some chicken, and open some wine to get me through tonight's SPN season finale, and the next three days I'm wearing my wine-sellers hat, not my writer's hat, so that will be a nice change...?

it's not so much advice as it is a circle around to the refrain...
madness toll
Surviving emotionally intact (ish) as a writer requires walking a very thin and jagged line between rampant ego and excessive humility.
By that I mean - you need to be comfortable with hearing others praised to the skies, while still believing, somehow, that YOURS is better.

It may be better. It may not be better. But if you don't believe it IS, you'll be crushed under the excellence of others
(because others WILL be excellent.)

And, oh yeah, you have to not be an asshole about that belief.

...remembering this is harder on some days than others.

(Also, I almost wrote that as "excessive humidity." Oh hai summer, haven't missed you a BIT)

Shall We Play A Game?
happy go lucky
Well, since the pirates are already making the rounds with L. A. Kornetsky's CLAWED before it's even officially on sale, let's beat them at their own game, shall we?

Comment here with what YOU think should be done to people who make it harder for writers to make money off their work, and the most creative - and purely theoretical, we hasten to add - response will earn themselves a paperback copy of CLAWED, ten days before it hits the shelves!

if you'd rather buy a copy for yourself or a loved one, that is also a lovely thing...

(this offer open until May 16th at 6pm Saturday night, Pacific time, so everyone has a chance to see it)

The State of the Meerkat
meerkat coffee
13 days until the second-pass draft of Book 2 of THE DEVIL'S WEST is supposed to be done.

*looks at pile of notes, giggles slightly hysterically*

If not today, then certainly by Saturday I will have hit peak performance panic mode. Fair warning for anyone in my actual vicinity Slide a pizza under the door and set up the coffee iv, willya?

(professional writer on a closed track. Do not try this with adult supervision)

Oh, and did I mention that Ms. Kornetsky has a new book out in two weeks?

Meanwhile, in feline TV news, there were four, count 'em four birds on the balcony this morning - three house finches, and a single unidentified hummingbird.

Castiel managed to not run headfirst into the glass door, this time.

CatofSize has given up on the entire household and retreated under the bed in disgust.

when in the land of take-away pho....
A meerkat's impulse is to make her own. And lo, I did so - where 'making' means someone else simmered the base broth and I took it from there.

Not going to impress anyone for authenticity, since I had to improvise some of the herbs, but it's a) tasty and b) will kill all cold germs nearby. I'm calling that a win.

Next time, I can make sure I have the right garnishes (although sorrel in place of Thai basil worked surprisingly well). I'm still going to let someone else simmer the bones, though.
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Ah, Seattle...
citron presse
Cool and drizzly and dreary on the lovely spring day. The birds are twittering, the cats are snoozing, and the foghorns are speaking to each other again.

I had not been aware, previously, that foghorns could convey exasperation and rudeness quite so clearly as they do.

Slogging along on many thing that need to be written and re-written and rewritten once again.   Meanwhile, it's my turn in the "whatcha reading?" hotseat over at Book View Cafe.

Proof of Work...
editor kitteh
Into the second pass of the draft, where I think "yeah okay, that doesn't work any more, rip out entire pages, and rewrite everything to be stronger, faster, more likely to leave you going 'oh my god she didn't she did!'"

Hopefully, anyway.


“Stop that.”

She looked up at Gabriel, blinking. “What?”

“You were thinking that you had no idea what to do, bordering on panic, mayhap. That this was beyond your handling. That from the girl who [redacted for Book 1 spoilers]?”

Gabriel was an excellent card player when he chose to be, and his body gave off very little he did not want known. But at that moment, he practically shouted derision and disbelief, and Isobel felt her mouth twist into a smile.

“Not alone,” she said.

“And you’re not alone now. So if you’re done being foolish?” he asked and she huffed at him, but nodded.

(from currently-untitled Devil's West #2)

(no subject)
the general warned me...
Ah, the ever-present pushmepullyuou between "I shall be subtle as fuck and leave scholars to wonder at my subtlety in papers decades hence!" and "if I don't fucking spell it out in neon letters a foot high, nobody's ever going to figure out what I'm saying."

(this brought to you by the continuing frustration of an entire subset of writers everywhere hearing "we need more X in genre" and knowing that you gave them X - sometimes repeatedly - and nobody even fucking noticed because you're not a bestselling boy-writer. But never mind me, I'll just be over here, mixing up the very subtle neon ink...)

Feline Updates
winsome boomer
Castiel, Kitten of Thursday, Menace to Society, has come up with a new way to indicate that he's booooooored.

He will stalk up to me while I'm working, and bite my pants leg.

Not me, just the fabric. One quick bite and a tug, then a release. Then he'll do it again a few minutes later if I don't come play with him.

I suppose there are worse habits he could come up with?

Meanwhile, the Cat of Size continues along. He had a bad patch, and seems to be on a good patch now, with continued cuddles and not seeming to mind TOO much that we've switched his feeding-and-shots schedule a few hours later.

(this means I'm actually less productive in the morning, which is totally my fault, not his. Need to work on that).

(because I know you're here more for them than you are me....)

calling on the group mind...
citron presse
Anyone in the Seattle/Portland area know of a reputable bear-repair shop? My beloved Teddy, who has been Adventuring with me for 40+ years now, has finally lost his grip (the cloth pads of his paws have all worn out), and he deserves the very best care…

Reason #toodamnmany why writers drink...
madness toll
Original opening line of Book 2: "They’d left nothing alive.“

After an entire day of word-wrangling, the new opening line:

"Isobel had been riding for three days, two to her destination and then a turnaround, when she found the bodies."

Yeah, that works. But dogdamn it, it took me HOURS and BRAIN BLOOD (and at least one walk around the neighborhood) to get the opening pages to finally do what I wanted them to do.

On the plus side, it should get easier today.



Except we had a local market fail: they have semi-sweet chocolate-covered graham crackers, but no dark chocolate-covered graham crackers. How am I supposed to work under these conditions?!

Monday Monday'd.
Today was my first of two days "on shift" at the tasting room. We had a visitor when we opened, and then a group just before close. In-between, I dealt with a woman who thought she'd left her credit card there (she called back later to say she'd found it), worked on my personal tasting notes for our wines (because being able to talk about the wines honestly, and not rely on someone else's notes, is important), and had various story-breakthroughs and working on responding to sundry emails.

(part of this gig is the ability to do other things when it's dead, so long as the space is properly maintained. Bless this gig.)

But tonight I am the sort of brain-tired and body-tired that is good, and am a lump at one with the sofa. And if the group of 20-somethings having what sounds like The Most Obnoxious Hipster Birthday Party in their building's backyard would remember to use their "not broadcasting to the entire neighborhood" voices (and stop chanting stupid camp-bus songs), I might even be in a good mood....

(as is it, the urge to start lobbing cat-poo at them from the balcony is rising..)

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