Note

I do not ever want my author bio to read:

"Kameron now lives in (insert small midwestern town name here) with her three cats."

Call me crazy, but I want more than that. At the same time, I also don't want it to read:

"Kameron now lives in (insert small midwestern town name here) with her adoring, supportive attorney husband Walter and their three adorable children, Minnie, Mickey, and Mike."

I think my bio should just say:

"Kameron Hurley subsists primarily on the blood of her enemies and should not be allowed out in direct sunlight. She prefers fucking in Marrakech to boxing in Madrid, but it depends on the time of year. When she's not shooting up in service to her life-sustaining drug habit, she can still drink small children under the table. She lives with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a substantial number of Chipotle burritos and occasionally sees a boy whose name she can't remember, but right now she's probably out at a bar learning French from a one-legged prostitute named Bruno."

At least it's more memorable, and has less of the "inevitable boring death" slant to it.

The inevitable death of us all could at least be spiced up a little.

Oh, the Glamorous Writing Life

Up this morning at 5:30 am, morning weights routine, green tea and a cup of frozen raspberries. Out the door at 7:10, catch the bus at 7:27, at work at 7:45.

Script writing in the lobby from 8-10, com meeting from 10-10:30 to communicate assignments and deadlines. Shift from scripts to design changes for company intranet at 11. Lunch is cabbage and pulled pork in a low carb totilla wrap and a spinach salad eaten while reading tips on how to write good web copy.

Intranet & sales process meeting from 1-2, revised sales process up and sent out by 2:30. Approved sales letters given over to intranet manager by 3:00pm.

4:00pm, finalized change process doc done for intranet home page redesign submitted to project manager. 4:30pm, finalized sales brochure mockup sent to graphics designer. 4:45pm, finalized sales brochure sent to videographer.

5:00pm, out the door to catch the bus.

5:11pm on the bus.

5:30pm at home, pack up stuff for a writing night, realize the Starbucks within walking distance is closed.

Steph drops me off at the Books & co down the street.

6:10pm stop by Chipotle across from Books & co. for a quick dinner (steak fajjita burrito, no rice, no beans).

Hole up at Books & co. from 7-9 and squeeze out 1500 bloody, misbegotten words on Black Desert while researching some new fitness routines, bringing me within 500 words of where I'm supposed to be according to my writing schedule.

9:05pm cell phone alarm goes off telling me to pack up and walk to the bus.

9:18pm bus arrives right on time.

9:23pm arrive home. Eat half a dark chocolate bar in the fridge. Roommates tell me pilot light on the furnace went out, so don't try and take a shower or do dishes until morning.

9:25pm unpack computer. Repack gym clothes for personal training session at work.

9:40pm write blog post while reminscing about my glamorous writing life.

This is it, folks.

And you know what?

I love it.

I love my job. Both of them. All of them.

Now somebody needs to start paying me real money for them.

10:00 collapse into bed.

Write Night

Went out to the coffee shop down the street tonight to catch up on my Black Desert writing. Finished up nearly 5K, getting me back within 1K of where I'm actually supposed to be according to my writing schedule.

It was an intense little session. I haven't been that deep in the book in awhile, and when I came out of it I had one of those weird periods of dissonance, where five minutes ago I was in bed with Rhys and his wife in balmy Tirhan in the bloody moonglow, and suddenly I'm trudging down the snow glutted streets of Dayton at 9 o'clock at night wondering where in the hell I am.

Man, I'm a cruel bitch, too. This is that happy jump the narrative takes just before it all goes to hell. This is where you realize just how much the protagonists have to lose, and how hard they fought for it. There are some ichy scenes coming up, and after writing what I did tonight, I have a feeling I'm going to cry through them when I write them. Maybe after.

A whole world, all broken down.

Such a bloody bitch.

I like writing about characters who are drawn to each other but aren't necessarily good for each other. Nyx walks back into your life and you see everything you love destroyed, but some vital piece of you, something you can't name, something you didn't even know was missing, is somehow there again. Whole. Full. Like a missing piece of your heart that chokes you.

Yes, I know: I'm a bloody bitch. But why else would I be a writer?

Stevia

Tastes like concentrated saccharine.

Yech.

Movin On Up

Steph and the Old Man and I had a chat tonight about where we're all at with the living situation. They're happy to have me if I need to stay, but honestly, me and the Old Man have been itching to have our own places for months now. They're not as neat-freaky as I am, and I'm getting tired of picking up dirty dishes and he's tired of me playing loud music. It's not like we want to murder each other, but we both really like our own space, and I've been dying to get my own - he's been dying to get his back.

What triggered the conversation was that they wanted to remodel the bathroom this summer, and to be dead honest, I wanted the hell out of the house before that happened. I've been in the house during major remodeling before, and this one is going to take even longer. I really don't want to be here when it happens.

So I'm pretty much bouncing off the walls right now because oh man do I want my own damn place. Oh man oh man.

If I wanted to live in Ghetto Dayton, I could pay $325 on the north side or downtown, but for $450 I can get a one bedroom near the U of Dayton (OK neighborhood, not ghetto). Take the $350 a month I give over to the CC that'll be paid off when I get my first book check and $250 I currently pay for rent and viola! You have $450 for rent and $150 for utilities.

We're looking at a June 1 or July 1 move out/move-in date, so I'll start my planning accordingly. By the end of March/April I'll be doing serious apartment hunting (it's also a great time of year to pick up apartments near UD cause the students are leaving for the summer). We can do all the moving with the truck and car they've got, so no rental van necessary. I haven't bought, well, pretty much anything since I moved in, so the actual moving of stuff will just be a couple big pieces of furniture and lots of books.

Waiting for the summer means waiting for the book check and a little more job security at work (as of June, I'll have been there a year). And also means I'll move before the bathroom remodel (OH THANK YOU GOD).

I'm so frickin' happy to be in a place where I'm actually, you know, physically and mentally and financially capable of being on my own again. It's been a fucking rough two years. Steph is broken up about me going, but I was like, um, yo: that's how you know you did a good job. The busted up bird is able to fly on its own again.

You guys did good.

(OMG I GET TO BUY MY FRENCH PERFUME AGAIN!!!! AND LIGHT SCENTED CANDLES!!! AND USE APRICOT FASHWASH!!! OMG!!!!)

Recipes that Should be Illegal

Seriously, yo. This is one of those "cruelty to diabetics" recipes.

Also, they're selling Girl Scout cookies at work next week.

God's War Posters

Make your own!

Dating 101

If you go on a date with a girl and:

1) she does not contact you for a week (no call, text, e-mail)
2) you do not contact her for a week (no call, text, e-mail)

She will likely make the assumption that you're aware she is not interested, and has already happily assumed you are not interested as well.

So when you do call, a week later, she will be very Perplexed.

I have book deadlines now. Tra-la.

At this point, it'd take a pretty swoon-worthy date to pull my attention away from the book deadlines.

I have yet to have one of those.

Bowling, Beer, & Brutal Women

Steph and I went bowling tonight for free with a bunch of her coworkers. She works for a fairly large medical practice, so they'd reserved 26 lanes for their annual bowling tournament. Because the weather was icy, the other folks who were supposed to be in our team didn't show up, so it was me and Steph bowling, badly, in lane 26, drinking beer, calling out insults, giving each other high fives and snark for 3 games.

I dressed in one of my most comfortable, relaxed outfits. Long flared jeans and green T-shirt with a black zip up vest and hemp necklace choker, and I spent a lot of time with my thumbs hooked in my pockets and sidling up to the lane and being all cocky and walking tall, and oh man, it felt good. And as I bowled with Steph I realized, again, how good it feels to just act like myself. To swill beer and snark and walk like somebody who has her shit together. I actually haven't done that in awhile. People find me intimidating sometimes, and out here, I just feel.... well, this just doesn't feel like a place I can be me, sometimes. A lot of this came from the not-Boyfriend, I realize, who was terrified of the fact that I talked too loud and walked too confident, terrified of how I presented myself; not because he didn't like it (oh indeed he did), but because he was terrified of what other people would think of me. There's a lot of that "but oh God what would the herd think!" mentality out here.

And as I looked at the assembly of Steph's coworkers, I realized, again, how obviously and absurdly we just don't fit in here. Or, at least, in this subset of Ohio. These people have completely different values. They consider different things when they pick a spouse. Lives are run on guilt and obligation more than independence and commitment. It's like, you're supposed to have a life that's a certain way, and that's the life you make, even if you want something completely different. You build what you're supposed to have, even if it makes you miserable.

It's the weirdest thing out here that you get people my age who are on their second marriage or divorced and already have 3 or more kids. The "starter marriage" thing gets started early out here. You pick somebody based on... I don't know. I've always been incredibly picky about that. You build a life based on... I don't know. Not what I base mine on, that's for sure. Your goals, hopes, dreams, aspirations... nothing at all like mine. Interests, passions... I have so little in common with anybody out here, and I realized how odd and out of place that's made me feel.

I like my strong, butch personae. Not only has it gotten me pretty far, but I physically feel better when I step into it. When I try to quiet down and fem up, I feel stupid. I feel like a liar, and I feel weak and completely powerless. I'm just not me. But at least I "fit in" right?

Fuck that.

As I bowled, badly, and swilled beer tonight, I realized how far I'd come from where I'd been. I liked who I was (also, I really miss drinking, but I digress). I miss feeling safe, among folks who accept me for who I am. I don't trust anybody here to accept me for me. Not one bit. Everybody I've met out here wants me to change to fit their conception of what a good little girl should be (except Steph and the Old Man, of course).

And you know what?

That's not me. I don't accept your religions blindly. I don't agree with your politics. I don't agree with a lot of your hypocritical family values. I don't believe your gay son is going to hell and I don't believe your daughter only has her looks and breeding potential going for her. I don't think the height of refinement is beer and pizza on a Friday night, but it sure can be fun. Now let's discuss some literature and do explain to me why you think Bush's foreign policy is making friends and influencing people. Show me you can use your head. Demonstrate to me that you're not a sheep. I don't care what you believe so long as I know you got there by actually thinking about it. Do you just accept things that people tell you? Is what you have always enough?

Because it's never enough for me. And I realize that, out here, that makes me weird. It also means I'll never be as happy as most of these folks. Will I live a more interesting life? Maybe. Depends on your definition of interesting. One life isn't any better than the other, but I'm clear that the life that's OK for most folks out here isn't OK for me, and I get tired of feeling like I'm in the figurative closet all the time, trying to figure out how I can dress better and fem up and lose weight and dumb down my conversation so people take me seriously.

Fuck that.

God, you know, sitting there swilling beer and trading insults with Steph, I realized how much I miss being me. I miss being the me I was before I got sick. The whiskey-drinking, risk-taking nomad who never got attached to her lovers and ran around the world writing books. I liked that. And you know, when I came here, and my body had betrayed me and my world fell apart and it didn't look like the books were going anywhere, I built another life for myself, in my head. A life that would be different than the one I had. Not better or worse, but different. I found somebody I loved. I had a job a loved. I could get a little house and a garden and a dog and put my energy into building a life and a family and doing all those things that folks out here did. Not better or worse, just... different than what I was.

And tonight I realized just what I was planning to give up, how much of myself was getting lost along the way. Not better, not worse: different. A different self.

Did I like that different path? I don't know. Again, it was just... different. It wasn't what I had. It wasn't who I was tonight.

My dad said that my blog sounded a lot different since I moved to Dayton, and it's true. When you get hit with a shovel, when your whole world gets turned upside down, you have to decide where you're at, what happened, what needs to change. I wanted the boy and the dog and the garden and the house, not necessarily in that order.

Now I have no idea what I want or who I am, because all I want to do is swill whiskey and fuck the night away and chain smoke and get on a plane to Marrakech... and then I realize I already did that, and it brought me here.

So where do I go from here?

I don't know. I feel alive on nights like tonight, yes. But I was happy with the boy and the garden and the dog, too. Maybe they aren't mutually exclusive.

When somebody loves you, they love you for everything you are, good, bad, butch, brutal, bad bowler. And I'm all of those things and a lot more. Pretending I'm not, hiding it, covering it up, pretending that *all* I want is the garden and the house and not the midnight fucking in Marrakech, is a lie. It's gutting half of myself. It's sacrificing one to get the other.

I shouldn't have to sacrifice it. Those parts of myself should make each other stronger. Gutting one guts the other. I can't live a life that's half a person. I can't live half a life.

Now how do I get the house and the garden and the fucking in Marrakech?

This is the real question.

Shit

I feel like it.

Since last Friday when we agreed to the book contract, I've been allowing myself to eat pretty indiscriminately (there have been Chipotle runs, beer and cake, frosted cookies, chocolate cream pie, nachos, and more), and I've only worked out once this week. Some of this also has to do with a lot of work and lingering personal life stress, and the stress and unhealthy eating habits feed one another. The more stressed I am, the more I want to eat shit. The more shit I eat, the worse I feel. The more shit I eat, the more I don't care that I'm eating shit and feeling like shit. I haven't eaten so much shit the entire time since I got diagnosed as I have this week.

I've spent the whole week feeling up and down, mostly eight kinds of down, and now I'm just kind of weepy and exhausted.

I hate that I have to be so hyper-vigilant about food and exercise all the time. I hate that I can't eat what I want. I hate that I feel like shit, and the only way to get feeling level again is to tighten my control back up again and practice that hyper-vigilance.

I think that sometimes I just get tired of living under that tight control all the time. Sometimes I just want to bust out. Then I do, and this is where it gets me. I have to keep myself under control if I want to live any kind of life worth living.

Whine. Whine. Whine.

Quote of the Day

"A useless life is but an early death."
- JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE, Iphigenia in Tauris

Revelation

Man, it's been awhile since I got behind on e-mail. My day job is eating my life. In a *good* way, mind. It's keeping my brain busy, challenging, rewarding, but yeah, after this big sales project is done I'll need to slow down a little.

Because the Spice Must Flow

"She found him in the magicians' gym, where she should have expected him all along."

Which then explains why I was stuck for two months while she stood there waiting at his door. She was looking in the wrong place.

And just like that, the words come purling down the pipe once again.

Funny how that is.

Classic

The Only Reason to Live in Ohio

Cause after I pay off some debts in May, I'll have freed up $450 a month.

And then I'll get something like this.

It must be Spring Fever. I'm dying for my own place, even though Steph and the Old Man are happy to have me another year and staying here another year would make more sense.

We'll see how the job goes and what the bills look like this summer and see what makes the most sense.

But man, I'm itching for my own place.

Still Waiting at the Door

I'm about 2 months behind on my self-imposed deadline for Black Desert.

I was supposed to have a draft by next month, but it looks like it'll be May instead, with heavy revisions and something of a caliber that could be submitted to my editor by September or so (yes, I'm a heavy rewriter. Not just as I go - which is also heavy rewriting - but heavy rewriting after I have the draft. Until I know the final shape of the book, I can't edit it properly. It's complicated. I'll rant about it another time).

In any case, I usually have some trouble in the Dreaded Middle of a book, and tax season and heartbreak didn't exactly help the already muddy middle.

This weekend, I realized my sticking point in the narrative was that point in the book when Nyx knocks on Rhys's door for the first time in six years. And then... I stopped.

I wrote some scenes ahead of that, the scene where she meets Khos and Inaya, some later scenes of violence and destruction and trippy shapeshifting, but it was this point in the story, when she's gotta knock on the door of the guy who turned his back on her to make his own life that stuck me.

I've continued writing around the scene. I just keep staring at it. Tomorrow I'll be writing the thing out in a plain old notebook. Sometimes when I get stuck, taking it to another writing medium helps.

There's more I want to say about this particular sticking point, but I think I'll leave it at that for now.

Tomorrow I get through it, cause I've got two full-time jobs here now, and deadlines, yo.

Oddities of the Midwest

In conversation with somebody here in Dayton, I heard that he'd gone "snowboarding" over the weekend. How odd, I thought. Where the hell does somebody go skiing for a weekend in the middle of Ohio?

You have to understand, I'm from the Pacific Northwest. If we want to go skiing, you know, we drive the two hours to the Mountain. If we want to go to the beach, we drive the two hours to the beach.

This is Dayton, OH. Where the hell do you go skiing?

Well, it turns out, here in Middle America, find a hill and make some snow.

No, seriously.

Um, folks? If you like skiing, move within driving distance of actual mountains. They make snow out here.

They make snow.

I'm sorry, I know I really shouldn't find this shocking, but fake snow on a bumpy hill in the middle of the midwest, and you call that skiing?

No, no people.

A Proper Celebration

Steph & the Old Man took me out to the Amber Rose, here in Dayton, a surprisingly excellent Polish/Hungarian/Luthianian restaurant. This was our proper celebration dinner; their treat, as I won't see a penny for at least 60 days or so. The food was excellent. The Old Man and I split a pitcher of beer, of which I drank *at least* my half.

Ate bread and carrot cake and saurkraut and oohhhh did I mention I drank half a pitcher of dark beer and oh my yes, with my reduced diabetic tolerance, I feeling QUITE LOVELY THANK YOU. Mmmmmmm beeeeeeeeer!

Thanks again to everyone for the congrats. I'm bubbling over with happiness. And some drunkenness. But mostly happiness. I think. Well, the beer helps.

And yes, I worked on Black Desert today. Also saw Juno today (a second date that will be a last, but the movie was fun), which is just as incredibly sweet and brilliantly put together as everyone says it is. For those saying it's silly that she doesn't get an abortion - indeed, you're right, but there would be no movie otherwise. And for those who say, "She's way more snarky and put together than any 16 year old," well yes, you're right. And, "Somebody that snarky wouldn't have pre-meditated unprotected sex," well, you're right. Welcome to Hollywood. It's called suspension of disbelief. Did you think "Live Free or Die Hard" was a cutting-edge documentary?

In any case, if you haven't seen Juno, I highly recommend it (also, holy shit, she's the same actress who played the lead in Hard Candy. Now her kick ass performance in Juno doesn't seem so much like she came out of nowhere. If you have the stomach for it, I highly recommend Hard Candy, too. A quote straight from Ellen Page off set [who also considers herself a feminist] "As a girl, you're supposed to love Sleeping Beauty. I mean who wants to love Sleeping Beauty when you can be Aladdin?" ).

Then go out and have a lovely drunken dinner afterward, because really, you deserve it.

Yes, It's More-or-Less Official

Song of the night, just gifted to myself from iTunes. Because everyone needs ridiculous songs to flail around wildly to during nights like this one.

In fact, listen to it while you read the rest of this post.

Cause I am.

I have been informed that the following news has already been announced to the industry channels, and I've been told I can post about it, but I haven't gotten to it until now because hey, I was out celebrating with a Chipotle dinner, so I'm a little behind on my announcements, and this is one of those weird deals that makes for awesome bar chat.

So, God's War has been bouncing around at publishers since this summer. First on a query I sent out to Del Rey, who ultimately passed, even after a round of revisions ("not marketable enough"), then on to one of the editors at Bantam ("ultimately not marketable enough") and had been sitting out at another publisher for three weeks when my agent suddenly heard from the senior editor at Bantam, Juliet Ulman.

Ulman had gotten wind of the project (which, again, had already been passed on by another editor at Bantam) and asked my agent to send the book back to Bantam. This time, it landed on Ulman's desk.

24 hours later, Ulman sent my agent an offer for a 3 book deal with an option for my next book.

No, seriously.

My book was accepted by an editor at a house where it had already been rejected.

Awesome.

What a 24-hour receipt-to-offer time tells me is that Ulman was thinking something like, "I don't fucking care if nobody has any idea how to market this. I WANT TO BUY THIS BOOK" (but you'll have to ask her for her exact thought process on this one).

And you know what 24-hour-receipt-to-offer means to me?

I found somebody who fucking LOVES my book. And that makes me so fucking happy I can't even tell you. I so wanted to find somebody who loved this weird, bloody, contaminated desert slash-and-hack adventure novel, I just can't tell you (and after I found out Ulman was also K.J. Bishop and Jeff VanderMeer's editor at Bantam, it suddenly made sense that this was the editor who liked this book).

We officially accepted Bantam's offer today, after the third publisher decided not to make a counter-offer (Yes: "just not marketable enough").

Ok, jump up and down for glee and be happy.

Now I'm going to explain to you why I am not suddenly J.K. Rowling rich, and there's a reason my celebratory dinner tonight was out at Chipotle.

Cause see, Scalzi wasn't just blowing smoke up his ass with his money post.

The typical advance for a first novel is $5-15K. Minus agent's 15%. Minus self-employed taxes (generally, 30%).

And since these are checks that will end up with me, I'll break this all down for you without any shame.

I got a 3 book deal at 10K per book.

Now, do the math (yes, it's hard, but this is what I was doing all last night).

Math, folks.

After agent's (awesomely deserved, let me tell you!) fee, and taxes, I'll get paid out roughly half of what the deal is actually for, paid out over the next 3 years.

So I'm not rich.

But you better bet I'm paying off a credit card just before Wiscon and getting myself some goddamn new pants after all.

NOW THAT I'VE GOTTEN THAT OUT OF THE WAY:

Want to see more books like God's War (because I know at least half of you have been reading excerpts of it here for years)? Want kick-ass heroines who chop off people's heads and bloody their way across the desert with not too much interest in husbands and kids (but sex is yummy) and bring brutal justice and whiskey drinking back into style?

God's War. Fall 2009

Buy it.

Often.

Buy it for your kids (12+ If you're squeamish about violence or swearing, you probably don't read this blog), yourself, your significant other, your coworkers (mine are already asking when they can pre-order from Amazon), all the geeks you know (Nyx is way hotter than that lame-o Cylon in the red dress; Nyx is fucking SCARY), Sue & Joe Blow on the street (really, who doesn't love a good far-future romp across the desert with a kick-ass heroine?), your dogs (there are shapeshifters in this book, did I mention that?), your martial arts and boxing buddies (boxing as plot device! Yes, it has boxing too!), and every woman you know who ever wanted to kick a little ass.

Because it's an ass-kicking little book.

And I am very, very proud of it right about now.

There's a reason I was redoing my writing schedule last night, too. Black Desert will be due by the end of the year at the latest (shouldn't be a problem; it's halfway done), and Babylon a year after that. Oh shit I have to get cracking. Yes, that's right:

Start the 2010 decade off right with Nyx & co.

God's War: Fall 2009
Black Desert: Fall 2010
Babylon: Fall 2011

(tentative titles and schedules. I haven't seen this in writing yet)

You keep buying them, I'll keep writing them.

And though they'll all get proper acknowledgements full of enthusiastic swear words and colorful verbs later, huge thanks right now to Jenn Jackson and Juliet Ulman, because I quickly learned that there wasn't a clear marketing niche for this one, and they're both taking a risk with the project.

Thanks for believing in it, cause I know we're just getting started.

Writing peeps (you know who you are): thanks for keeping the faith with me. There were times when it got lonely here. And now it's all uphill. But. Hey. I reached the hill!

Now go buy my book! ;)

NBL!

It Should Not Suprise Me....

... that what I'm sitting here doing on Valentine's Day is revising my book writing schedule for 2008-2009.

Also, still recovering from all those lunges we did yesterday.

My poor, sorry ass.

Seriously, it's tough to get in and out of my chair.

And I have bowling Saturday.

Oh, my ass.

Math

I'm rolling over my big CC balance to a 0% interest card (finally found a card with a limit high enough that I can do this).

The smaller card will be paid off this year without a hitch, but this bigger one will take the two years, even knowing some things about how the financial year may turn in my favor here in a bit.

This was another thing the Old Man had on my list of things to do in order to get my finances in order. Even at 9.7% interest, carrying a $13,500 balance on a card means blowing through over a thousand a year in interest payments. Or, I could pay $420 right now and have 0% interest on the whole thing until I pay it off.

In the case of my smaller card, this wouldn't make sense because it will get paid off here in a few months, but this big one, even with a nice work raise and possible freelancing money, is going to take at least a year and a half. At least.

I did actually sit down and do the math, figuring I'm paying $550 month, plus about 10% interest, from now until December. That's still $1125 in interest alone from now until December.

So.

Yeah, transferred that balance today.

I'm getting my financial shit together, people. It's just a pain in the ass.

God's War Back Cover Blurb

If you're working on writing up queries or synposes, I've found it sorta fun and helpful to write up one of those "back cover" blurbs that you see on the back of books as practice. Writers tend to be huge readers, which means we've all read about a million of these.

Not only is it fun to imagine that your books will actually have one of these written about it sometime, it's also a really helpful warmup for writing synopses (which I hate).

Here's one I wrote up for fun for God's War a while back:
_____________________________________________________

Nyx had already been to Hell. One prayer more or less wouldn’t make any difference...

In the bloody wastes of Nasheen, a centuries-old holy war rages.

Fueled by Tirhani arms dealers, organic technicians, brawling mullahs, and swarms of magician-trained locusts, the origins of the war are shady and complex. It’s taken a bloody mix of mercenaries, bounty hunters, rogues, pirates and bel dames to enforce it.

Today, a godless woman may end it.

Bounty hunter Nyxnissa so Dasheen left God and her dead brothers at the front. Now she works the border cities cutting heads off terrorists for cash.

But when a dubious deal between her government and an alien gene pirate goes bad, Nyx’s crooked reputation makes her the preferred tool for the rogue’s recovery. The stuff inside this bounty’s head could end the war… but at what price?

Nyx is about to find out.

__________________________________________________

Man, I'm a fan girl.

Got Agent?

Speaking of agentry, my buddy Colleen Lindsay is now a new agent for Fine Print Literary Management.

Got novel?

She's looking for brand spanking new clients in fantasy, science fiction, pop culture, graphic novels, and maybe more. Check out her submission guidelines for details.

Colleen is bloody awesome, and she's the one who initially recommended I send God's War to Del Rey and got the whole thing started. She's been in the biz for ages, and specializes in publicity, so know that you'll have a great book lover and rampant publicist on your side.

If I hadn't already signed with Jackson last year, I would have signed on and taken a chance with Colleen without a blink this year. She knows her shit, and she's got a lit agency behind her to help her learn the nitty-gritty of agentry.

So, checkout the guidelines and send her a query if it looks like your stuff's a good fit!

Cheers

Tomorrow's always better, people.

Steph's work is taking them all out bowling next Friday, and since the Old Man has no interest, she's taking me to be her bowling partner! Whooo hooo!

That's three weeks of bowling in a row! (I have another bowling date on Saturday)And this one's free! Also, free beer and pizza! (because trust me, I deserve it, people!)

All that bowling is good for the ass. I'm telling you, though, my ass is really gonna have to start shaping up.

Today, at our work workout session, we added lunges to our sets and increased all our weights. Not just lunges in place, but across the gym. I'm not a weakling, mind, but I could barely get down the stairs afterward. It occurred to me that having a personal trainer is a lot like having an agent. That is, it's having somebody who can do/think about a piece of a process for you so you don't have to think about and you can actually concentrate on your work. Sure, you must be *aware* of that process, but you don't have to take up all your time worrying about it.

I don't have to remember how much weight I lifted last time or when I need to increase it or what exercise is next. They keep track of that and tell me and mix up the exercises every four weeks to make sure we're getting different types of workouts that keep us seeing results. I don't have to make up routines. About all I need to do is, you know, the actual work, and maybe count my own reps.

I could get used to this free personal trainer stuff.

Tasty, tasty work benefits.

The Return of the Overdraft

One of the things I discovered when I got my free credit report is that I had a student loan payment that was 120 days late.

I found this rather confusing, since I didn't remember receiving any kind of notice that this payment was due. I deferred all of my student loans back when I was unemployed, and two of the three of them duly resumed sending me statements after six months. Why this one didn't, I don't know, and in my hazy financially lazy mind, I figured they'd just granted me a 12-month reprieve instead of a 6 month, and never followed up.

My bad, yes. I'm financially retarded. I'm working on it.

I owed them $248 in overdue back payments.

I looked over the money I had in the bank, and according to my fuzzy math, I could pay them this and still stay in budget. I could make up the difference by paying less toward my CC payments next month (not paying the loan further injures my credit score).

But, once again, my lazy, imprecise "well, that's about right" math didn't work, and I overdrafted again for the first time since I started my new budget.

The real killer about the student loan payment is that it's another $64 I have to pull out of my budget somewhere. I'm honestly not sure from where. I can cancel the Netflix and maybe - maybe - take $40 out of my food budget and pay $10 less a month toward my old medical bills, but... well. I have to keep paying those huge payments to my credit card debt every month if I ever want to see the sun again, which means that money has to come out of things that are nice, but unneccessary. And no, I don't want to pull it out of my $100 fun budget.

That $100 fun budget is killing me as it is. Chopping that to $50? I wouldn't make it. What's that, a movie once a month and a couple Chipotle runs? No bowling, no coffee dates, no buying pants or socks when I need them. No occasional coke or peanuts or avocados.

I can barely do it as is right now.

I hate money.

Today

I did absolutely nothing useful today. Seriously: nothing. I'm not sure how I so effectively did nothing.

Also, now that I've gotten used to working out every day, I can seriously notice the deleterious results when I don't.

Ug.

Deleterious. That's an excellent word. I haven't used that one in awhile.

Anyhow: no news is good news?

Things Not to Do Even During a Snow Day at Home

Eat four sugar-free pecan cookies and coolwhip an hour after eating a carbolicious pancake for lunch that had raspberries and more of the aforementioned coolwhip.

You will get a sugar headache and find it difficult to concentrate for the next hour or so (no, these headaches make no sense. When I test my sugar, I'm at 122, which is a perfectly decent number. I don't know why my body does this when I have too many carbs at once sometimes).

Mmmmm diabetes!

Homemade Samoas... (my favorite Girlscout cookie! At a fraction of the cost!)

OMG the goodness!



I'm already concocting ways to make these more diabetic friendly. They will never be diabetic friendly, but at least I can make them *more* diabetic friendly, people....

Taking a Swim in Devil's Pool

I wanna go!

Rugby canceled tonight. They're sending us home from work at noon.

There's seriously not a lot of snow out there. I lived in Chicago for four years, and the city didn't stop for 4 inches, people. Oh well.

Home at noon!

Mmmmmm

Sweet library goodness.

More for Today

It appears I'm just going to keep filling up my social calendar until I explode and can't take it anymore.

I realize I'm doing it to distract myself. It's working, and keeping me focused on improvement instead of wallowing.

But... but, well.

In other news, I ate some pizza today at work. It was divine. I'm paying for it now with loose numbers, but hey. It was divine.

Anyhow, dates and rugby and bowling oh my this week!

I've started keeping a Google calendar to keep track.

Oh, the ridiculousity.

1099

Got an official 1099 from Hartwell for my Year's Best SF sale. That was quite nice, actually. Most short sales don't send you 1099s.

I honestly couldn't remember if I'd made $75 or $100 for it.

Yes, all you dewy-eyed young writers out there: making a Year's Best Sale will net you an incredible $100!!

Want to know how much I made writing just 500 more words the year before?

$4,000

Seriously (and yes, I made that money 10% talent, 80% pure luck through a writing colleague who was looking for writers. No, I don't know what the other 10% was. Math is hard).

I don't know why it never occurred to me before this year to turn to corp writing. No experience in it, maybe? I couldn't find a way to position myself for a cushy corp writing job. The one I fell into this year, again, was 80% luck.

Right place, right time, just like relationships.

There's writing work to be done that'll actually pay you for it. Why fiction doesn't?

Go figure.

Writing & Money

Scalzi has a great post up about writing and money.

Everything he says here is basically stuff my roommates have been telling me. You know, they of my same age who have a house, two cars, no credit card debt, and IRAs.

I wouldn't take back any of the shit I did in my early 20s. They were awesome experiences. Looking at it, though, I would have managed my Chicago job money a lot better. I blew loads and loads of money on books that I have since given away and/or never read and going out to eat twice or three times or more a week; blew loads on coffee, of all things (at one point I was spending, I think, nearly $200 a month in books and coffee).

Going on trips is one thing; blowing money on food, coffee, and books you'll never read is quite another. I also very nearly slaughtered myself the year before I got sick by nearly passing on the "free" health insurance I was getting through my company. I mean, hey, I'd get nearly $80 a month back if I chose to opt-out, and you know, I never got sick, so why not?

Yeah, seriously, in December when we were renewing, I seriously thought about opting out. In May I got a 30K hospital bill, all but 7K of which was paid for by my insurance company.

It's not worth opting out.

In some ways, looking back at everything that's happened the last few years, me getting sick is the best thing that could have happened for me, financially. Why, you ask, when health costs are so high?

Because it's forcing me to keep my day job no matter what kind of advance I get for ANY book EVER.

I spent much of my early 20s just spending money like water, figuring I would pay off the debts with my first 10K or 20K book advance. After that, I'm sure I would have quit my day job with the next Great Advance as my career improved, but that's always been my goal: make enough money writing full time to make it my day job. Give up the 8-5 grind.

But.

But, well... It's something I can never do now. I pull my own weight in every relationship I get into. "Quitting" just isn't an option, even if I were to ever have a spouse that had benefits (which would also require me to get married. It would take a pretty fucking amazing person to convince me to marry them. I have yet to meet this person. So).

So I work for my own benefits. I make more as a technical writer than a lot of freelance writers who write fiction exclusively make, and I have great health insurance.

Living alone in a garret and bleeding all over your pages while slowly starving to death or dying of consumption sounds a lot more romantic than it actually is. I lived something close to that in South Africa, and though it's fun for a year, it's not the kind of life I want to build.

I want to be financially secure and successful. That means every penny I make right now is going toward debt. And it fucking sucks. All I want to do is go to Chipotle and buy some expensive cheese and go to the movies all the time and some shows downtown. As it is, bowling is something I can do maybe twice a month and about the only sort of dates I can afford these days are coffee dates and maybe some evenings spent watching Netflix.

And that's how it's going to be for the next couple of years. Because you know what? I'm tired of being poor. I'm tired of being uncertain, and being poor doesn't make you a better or worse writer than anyone else. Starving for my art just isn't all that cool.

Like Scalzi said, writing is a job - my day job, in fact, and my weekend passion - and I treat it like a job.

I'm inordinately lucky to be able to do a job from 8-5 that I love and get paid for it. Not everybody's that lucky. If you're going to be a writer who makes an actual living wage, though, this is a nice way to do it.

I like my living wage, my downtime for freelance writing, and I'm currently looking for other freelancing opportunities to help with aforementioned debts and bowling money.

Being poor isn't any fun. Not going to Chipotle isn't fun either, but it beats being poor.

Church-going in Ohio

The roommates have been looking for a church here in Ohio, and though I figured it would be too liberal-hippie for them, I told them I was looking into the local Unitarian church just north of here. I figured it would get us all out of the house, and it would get me socializing at a place I could feel comfortable talking about ideas of faith, history, and religion in.

Overall, it was a good experience for me. It was the first time I went to a church and didn't feel like I was some kind of imposter. I don't generally feel welcome and comfortable at churches. They spend a lot of time saying, "here's what we are and what we believe, and if you don't believe this, you aren't welcome" Or, "if you don't believe this, we'll make you believe it, because we'll use fear and coercion to convince you, because your lack of belief makes us uncomfortable."

This church was more about talking about faith and religions and ideas thrown around in other churches, questioning those, looking at different texts (including the Bible). It was focused on faith and love and acceptance more than stony religion, and I appreciated that.

It was funny, though, afterward, talking to the roommates about it. They thought the church was nice and enjoyed the experience, but didn't feel at home there.

The Old Man put it in just the right way. He said, "It seems to be the kind of church where people go who feel like outsiders, who feel like they never fit anywhere else. And you know what? That's not a part of my experience. I don't share that."

Which makes perfect sense, really. A straight white Christian guy comfortable with his family and faith growing up in a society that largely preaches the same values of faith and family and is geared toward making straight white Christian guys successful wouldn't share that experience.

But me? With my "mostly" straightness, queer-friendly thoughts and ideas, discomfort with the idea of a fire-and-brimstone God that hates the very people he's supposed to have created, never feeling that religious certainty or comfort in what I'm doing, what I think, what I believe, because the things I think and believe aren't really scripted... well, for me, it was the first time I actually walked into a church that didn't make me want to run screaming from it.

I appreciate a minister who says, "here's what I think, but I don't expect it to be what you think. Let's talk about it."

That's a pretty cool idea, and something I'm drawn to.

I don't like being preached at, and I don't like folks who preach hate or intolerance. "Hate the sin but not the sinner," is a stupid, hypocritical piece of garbage. If the sin you hate is "teh gay," I'm sorry to say, you also hate the person. Because like it our not, our fears, our desires, our passions, are also intrinsic parts of who we are. You can't take one away without changing the whole. You can't tell me that a love between people that makes them both better and stronger and more whole is somehow bad. Why don't we encourage people to be better for the sheer joy of being better, of having love in their lives, instead of using fear and coercion? A society that uses fear and coercion to control its people isn't a society I want to promote.

I believe in loving and respecting people and helping in whatever way you can. I get uncomfortable in places telling me what I should think, or believe, especially if it means believing that otherwise good and decent people are so hated by God because they question Jesus's true paternity or don't believe in the Trinity are going to hell. At the same time, I like the idea of a community where you can explore faith and religion in an open, accepting environment.

That sort of environment is a faith and belief system all its own, of course. And it's certainly a place I'll feel more comfortable.

Steph and the Old Man will be looking into other churches in the area, but I think I'll be going back to this one at least a few more times. It challenges me to think; it gives me a safe space in Dayton, where I often feel like a total freak (I always feel far more comfortable in places where same-sex couples feel safe enough to hold hands or put their arms around one another in public. It's like my whole body just relaxes, like, "Oh, OK, it's safe here to be different. I don't have to play by a script").

In conservative Dayton, it's a breath of fresh air, and something I think I need right now, you know. Finding some people who won't freak out if they find out you one dated a woman you cared very much for once, you vote democrat, you believe in social justice, social programs, and equality, and you don't feel welcome in a mainstream religious establishment.

It's nice to go somewhere I can just take a deep breath in and not worry about being "outed" as... well, as whatever it is I am.

Outed for being me, I guess.

Who Would Have Thought?

Went bowling with the not-boyfriend for a couple of hours. Good times were had. This morning, I awoke to find that, damn, my ass hurts.

I didn't expect bowling to result in a sore ass. Sore wrist, maybe, sore arm.

Sore ass?

It was totally innocent bowling, I promise!

Yes, Yes, I Know: More Rollerderby, Less Boyfriend

I'll get there.

Rugby's rescheduled for Tuesday, as Dayton public transit sucks, and getting home from downtown at 10pm was near impossible. Rugby folks will help me set up a ride home for the Tuesday practice instead.

Date

Huh.

That was a very nice date.

Now I really need to finish my novel.

Rugby

Thursday, 8pm.

It's a date!

Dayton Has a Women's Rugby Team

Oh yes indeed it does.

One of my workday workout companions suggested this, actually, after watching me doing my assisted pull-ups yesterday. She mentioned Dayton had a team, and I said I was interested. She has a friend who coaches, and said they're always welcoming new folks, even those without rugby experience.

I checked out the website and asked them for more info. Wouldn't that be a blast?

Quote of the Evening

Was clicking through some shows tonight while finishing up my Greek yogurt, and happened upon Dr. 90210, in which a porn star was having her third breast augmentation surgery because the first two had been screwed up.

While the doctor pressed and cupped these enormous bubble breasts protruding from her tube-shaped boyish body, he said, "See, by tightening up this here they'll look much more natural, but still sexy."

That's right, ladies, this doctor is so talented he can make unnatural breasts look natural... but still sexy. Newsflash: unnatural breasts are the only kind we're supposed to find attractive anymore.

When she came out from under the anathestic, she contorted her face into a grimace of pain and began to sob because it hurt so much.

Please stop doing this to yourselves.

If this is the future, I want my money back.

Things That Make You Go "Hm"

"...and their women"!!!

Forgetting

Today's xkcd

Because Life is Short

I did 50 minutes of cardio on a *Sunday.*

I have two low-cost coffee dates set up for this week (because life is better when we socialize, people). I don't like to think of this as me dating again. I am merely socializing. We'll see what happens as a result.

I lost 6 lbs, for some odd reason (lack of cheese, probably).

According to my (highly fuzzy) math, I should get back $947 on my tax return this year. I'm not holding my breath. Me and math don't get along very well.

Would be lovely, tho. Oh yes it would.

Don't Buy a Tablet PC, Buy a Wii

The more I hang out with the IT guys at work, the more I love cheap hacks.

Indeed We Do

I let this little old woman go ahead of me at Trader Joe's today, because she only had two items, and it seemed silly for this frail little woman to stand there behind me with her pack of tuna curry and soy sauce while I bought my $35 in groceries.

She thanked me for allowing her to go ahead and offered me the counter space to set my basket down on.

"Oh no," I said, "it's not that heavy. I work out." I laughed. "I'm pretty strong."

She smiled, then looked me up and down and said, "Oh yes, you do look very strong. A strong woman. Yes." She paused, then said more softly, "We need more of those."

Indeed we do.

Well, it Was Bound to Happen

I had dreams last night that I was spending money. Vasts amounts of fun money, far over budget, in particular, on food and books. In particular, sugar-free chocolate.

Read books from your cell phone (or your iTouch)

For free. Though there isn't exactly much selection at the moment.

Things That Make You Go "OMG"

I was doing some random googling tonight, and wondered what would happen if folks only had my first name and location. Would they discover my TRUE IDENTITY?

According to Google, no. Cause there is apparently ANOTHER KAMERON IN DAYTON. And you all thought MySpace pages weren't good for anything. Look at how perfectly my identity is hidden! She's even 28, like me! Only she is not rhino-sized, and her boyfriend appears to be very tall, or perhaps she is just very short.

In any case, her profile ensures that I come up way down at the end of the page.

Excellent.

Things Will Get Better!

Oh yes, they will.

The Epic Battle Continues

My Credit History at a Glance

Was able to view my credit history for free online via a couple of sites, which is something I've been meaning to do as a part of my whole "Get my finances together" resolution. This was actually a very humbling experience.

Mmmmm credit excess.

The good news is I've only got one late credit card payment from back in `06 and two late student loan payments. Everything else I pay on time, for whatever that's worth.

I've got one credit card that's carried between 3-5K for the last two YEARS (yes, I've budgeted to get this taken care of over the NEXT two YEARS. Yes, this is why Credit Cards are EVIL).

But for something really terrifying, have a look at the balance history on my big CC, in chronological order:

01/2006 $1,337
02/2006 $2,800
03/2006 $2,554
04/2006 $2,068
05/2006 $1,882 - got sick with diabetes
06/2006 $2,538
07/2006 $2,981
08/2006 $2,056
09/2006 $2,597
10/2006 $3,782 - uncovered hospital bills came due
11/2006 $5,231
12/2006 $5,821 - got laid off and lost health insurance
01/2007 $6,560
02/2007 $7,051
03/2007 $7,214 - moved to Dayton
04/2007 $7,308 - went to Spain
05/2007 $7,619
06/2007 $9,014 - still no health insurance
07/2007 $9,609 - advised employer to hire me b/c of med costs
08/2007 $10,323 - employed/finally got health insurance
09/2007 $11,282 - went to Switzerland/started dating locally
10/2007 $12,068
11/2007 $12,791 - new insurance co problems
12/2007 $13,972 – initiated new budget to control debt
01/2008 $13,805

I can't tell you how depressed I was with this card balance back when it was $1500. I kept thinking, "Oh, I'll NEVER pay this BACK."

I've resolved not to have anymore years like 2006/2007 ever again.

Seriously, layoffs and chronic illness and moving and dating of any kind (local or international) is not a good idea.

One more reason to give up dating! Yay!

I can't wait to be done with this debt.

I Have All My W-2's Now!

Which means now I get to find out if I really CAN afford to go to Wiscon.

Rambo: Fourth Blood

(click to view the depressing stats counts)

Quote of the Day

"A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave."
- Mohandas Gandhi

Note to Self

No day is a good day to decide to give up coffee.

Oh no.

Ring Pistol

Because really, you could put an eye out.

Web Pirates

Thought for the Day

Tomorrow will be better.

Always is.

Quote of the Day

"I take life with a grain of salt, a wedge of lime, and a shot of tequila."
- unknown

Things Needing Fixing

Now that I've successfully grooved into a great new workout schedule and created a new internal communications plan at work at that I'm implementing, it's time to fix my REAL writing schedule, cause I can tell you right now that Black Desert ain't going to be done by March.

Fucking personal life, always getting in the way.

New goal: Fix writing schedule. While retaining the awesomeness that is my work and workout schedules.

When I grow up, I want to be able to juggle health, both types of writing, and a real, live personal life, for long periods of time. That would just be so fun.

A chick's gotta have goals.

An Open Reader Poll

Q: Should Kameron go on a date Friday night?

Yes/No

Please post your response in the comments section below (please show your work).

One For the Road

In Which the Protagonist Heads to Bed Early

Too much working. Too much working out.

Too much time tonight to sit around and think.

I'll get to bed early while I'm ahead. Rested muscles means more lifting at the gym tomorrow.

Reasons I Can't Wait Until Payday

Because the next payday is the 1st of February, which means I will once again have $100 in "fun money."

1/3 of which I have already decided to spend on pants.

This is the exciting writing life, yo.

My First Bench Press!

The two other women in my workday workout group didn't show up today, so I got a Kameron-friendly workout from one of our work personal trainers, K.

She hauled me back into the free weights area, and I bench pressed for the first time!

The bar itself is 45 lbs, so she started me with that just to verify that I could, you know, lift it with ease. She increased the weight by 5lbs on each bar until we got to 65. By then, I was probably too worn out to push weight increments of much more, but next time... I want to start at 70, yo!

As we moved on to free weights, one of the guys in the gym lumbered up and said, "You know, if you ladies are serious about lifting weights, you should use higher and higher increments. You know, 8 pounds, then 10pounds, maybe even a couple reps with 20, you know, til you tire out. Women don't have testoserone, so you don't bulk up. You'll just get these real lean muscles."

Imagine, when I grow up, I might even be able to lift a 20lb free weight!

I did understand the weight training routine he was referencing... though he got it wrong. It actually works in reverse of the way he said it. You start with the heaviest weight you can lift, do it to failure, then notch down your weights, doing each successively smaller weight to failure. It's called a Drop Set. This will build muscle faster, but could also result in overtraining. There are pros and cons. I suppose you could try this in reverse the way he believed you should (with his 20 years of personal training experience, I'm sure), but if you do 20 lbs to failure, you probably aren't going to be able to lift 25 and do them to failure immediately afterwards.

Anyway. Math is hard, and I'm just a girl.

K. was much nicer than I was going to be.

What I wanted to say was, first: "Women don't have any testoserone, huh? I wonder where my wicked sex drives comes from, then."

And:

"If I wanted your advice, I would ask. I, however, am no foreigner to free weights, thanks. Even though I'm just a girl."

K. has 15 years of personal training experience and a BA in Exercise Science or something. She merely said, "Thank you."

As we headed out of the weight area to work on the assisted pull-up machine she said, "Don't you just love it when random guys in the gym give you unsolicited advice?"

"We're just girls," I said. "It happens every time you walk over to the boys' half of the gym. And then they wonder why more women don't lift weights."

Honestly, do you think guys give other guys unsolicited advice in the weights room? Maybe they do, and I just never noticed because I don't spend enough time there. But I'd bet women get way more unsolicited advice than men do. Women have pride too, you know. And many of us even have an idea of what we're doing. If we're not doing it the way you want us to do it, it's probably for a reason. You don't know what our goals are. You don't know what our backgrounds are. Some of us have 15 years of personal training experience. Some of us can kick you in the head.

Thanks, tho, buddy.

Anyway:

My first bench press!

Awesome!

Be Advised

5 Scariest Insects in the World

No shit, man.

New PM Workout Routine

So, for some time now I've been trying to come up with a regular evening lower-body routine to match my morning upper-body free weights routine. My morning one works great. Years of habit make kicking off my day with a quick 15 minutes of weights as natural to me as breakfast and a shower.

But I needed something I can get into at night that's as quick, simple, and effective.

Well, it appears I may have found it. And if this doesn't kick your ass, then you're in far better shape than I. I can alter the number of sets to make this a quick 10 or 15 minutes at the end of the day. Again, if my morning/evening sets go much longer than that, I tend to avoid them. An hour workout during my weekday is fine, but get me at the beginning or end of the day, and it better be fast and require very little complex thought.

We'll see if I can work this one in each evening. So far, it's proved to be fun and functional, just like my 20 minutes of easy, post-pancakes cardio on the weekends.

Fun, easy, and functional makes it much more likely this will become a part of my daily routine.

Quote of the Day

"I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work." - Thomas Edison

12 Ways to Eat Diabetic-Friendly On a Budget

Most food budget tips will tell you to stock up on cheap fillers like rice, potatoes, pasta and canned beans and soups. The canned beans might not be so bad, but if you're a fickle diabetic like me, you want to stick to a low carb diet. This reduces the amount of insulin you take every day, improves your numbers, and ultimately, results in a consistent weight and clear head.

One of the biggest obstacles to figuring out a doable budget for me was creating a reasonable food budget without the help of the handy rice and pasta fillers that Steph and the Old Man are able to use. It's been a brutal learning period.

Here's some tips I've come up with for how to eat low-carb on a budget:

1) Buy cheap vegetables. Forget those pre-cut bags of broccoli and cauliflower. Cabbage is 50 cents a head (prob'ly cheaper in other places), and it's really filling. There are also a million ways to cook it. It's a poor person's food. People have been creative. Carrots and frozen peas are some other great low-cost filler vegetables (brussels sprouts aren't bad either, but they aren't the cheapest thing on the block).

2) Buy your meat in bulk. Go to Sam's Club or Costco, if you can, and buy those big packs of chicken breasts for stewing meat. Divide them up into individual bags when you get home and freeze them. Take them out the night before to defrost for your chicken stir fry the next night. No more pre-cooked meats. You'll thank yourself later when you're making an offer on that new house.

3) Breakfast doesn't have to be a full-out affair. I was used to the eggs and bacon routine from my Atkins days, so when I got diagnosed, I just ported that over. But it ended up taking up too much time, and bacon (even turkey bacon) isn't exactly cheap. Plus, I could only stomach it with cheese and mixed veggies, and that meant going through more cheese every week than my pocket was comfortable with. I buy frozen blueberries in bulk and defrost a cup of those, dust them in Splenda, and eat them in the morning while I'm catching up on blogs.

4) What about that Splenda? Buy it in bulk, too. It always feels like a major expense, though I don't go through a lot of it. When I buy it in bulk, I'm spending maybe $5.99 a month on it. Buying it at the store means I'm spending $7.99-8.99. This may not sound like a huge difference, but that's 2 or 3 iTunes songs you get to download every month now, or a pair of socks (I have learned how to mend my socks. I like iTunes more than I like buying new socks).

5) Low carb tortillas are a must. They're expensive: $2.99 for a pack of 8. But they do replace all of your bread products, and with that 90-per calorie count and 9-per carb count, you just can't beat them. I buy Tam-x-ico's Low Carb Tortillas. I buy two packages per week. That's a whopping $6 on bread products, but if you think about it, I'm not buying bread, pitas, bagels, chips, crackers or any other type of snack food of a similar variety. So $6 a week on bread products really isn't that bad.

6) Speaking of tortillas, since this is your only bread product, you're going to want to get creative with them. Use them for sandwich wraps for lunch, grilled wraps for dinner, fajitas, nachos or chips (cut them up and fry them or bake them in your toaster oven), quesadillas, and etc. Get your $6 worth.

7) Yogurt is great... just choose the right kind. There's a great low-carb yogurt called Fage that has like 9 carbs a serving, and a very reasonable calorie count. You can use this as an additional breakfast item, add it to your whole-wheat pancakes, or mix it with frozen berries and Splenda for a great sweet treat. Thing is, Fage is a tad on the expensive size. For just over a dollar less, you can buy Trader Joe's Greek Yogurt. Fewer carbs (6 per serving), and cheaper price. It's your best bet. Like the Fage, opt for the 0% fat version. They taste exactly the same as the full fat, but have something ridiculous like 1/3 to 1/4 of the calories.

8) And, what about berries? The highest cost item on my food bill every week was fresh berries. What can I say? I was addicted. Don't buy them fresh unless it's the time of year where they're in season, and it's cheaper to buy fresh than frozen. Otherwise, buy your low carb blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries frozen. Seriously. You'll save loads.

9) Watch the cheese. This is my biggest weakness. It's the best no-carb snack on the planet! Stick to low-fat string cheese (in my opinion, it tastes better than full fat) and some kind of extra sharp cheddar cheese for your sandwiches, fajiitas, and the like. If you must, you can buy feta or blue cheese for your salads, but at $3-$4 a week, it's not always a worthwhile expense for me. Some weeks, I'd rather buy socks.

10) Don't shop hungry. Yeah, yeah, you've heard this before as a great stupid "weight loss" tip, but let's think about where it's really hitting you: your budget. Nothing looks better than $4 packages of pecans and $5 cheese and spinach pre-made quesadillas when I'm shopping hungry, and the urge to add "just one more thing because I'm so cool!" to the basket quickly becomes $20 worth of "just one more thing"s.

11) Only buy thing's you'll eat. This might sound obvious, too, but if you're buying three packages of spinach a week for your lunch salads and only using 2 and throwing out the other one, that's $1.99 in the hole. You could have bought some SnapPea Crisps or a dark chocolate bar instead. If you only drink half a gallon of milk a week, don't buy a gallon. Unless it's something you're buying in bulk and freezing, only buy what you're going to use that week. Waste not.

12) No incidentals. No magazines, no books, no string, no plants, no random greeting cards. You can buy these things out of your fun budget when you're out on a different trip, to have fun. Make grocery shopping about grocery shopping. If the budgets are separate (for me, my fun budget and grocery budget are very much separate), then separate them in your head. Piling things on and figuring you'll sort out the costs later means no headache now, but a nasty realization later when you sit down with the recipes and realize you blew half your monthly fun budget on a Bob Greene book, an Oprah magazine, some notebook paper, and a handful of pens.

If I stick absolutely to my "rules" every week, I still probably spend $70-80 a week on groceries (this also includes toiletries - razors, face wash, soap and the like). This might still sound really high to people used to living on rice and pasta. The best I ever did on groceries was $50 a week... eight years ago. I did that by drastically reducing my food intake (two eggs and mixed veggies separated into two portions: one portion for breakfast, one for lunch, and mixed veggies, brown rice and sausage for dinner. String cheese to snack on. That's it. It was wicked tight, and not the funnest thing I've ever done).

$70-80 a week will be annoying, but comfortable. You'll still get snacks and a variety of sugar-friendly food, and you won't have to go without soap.

Finding Your Motivation

What drives you?

Not just to get up in the morning (I must work to pay for my roof, my food, to survive), but what drives you to do more than just survive? To push into the unknown, to take a risk?

I used to fear relationships and commitment in the same way people fear death. It's why I stayed single so long after high school, and one of the reasons (besides my crazy sickness) that caused much of the trouble in the two relationships I had after coming out of my post-highschool dating hiatus. I was terrified of getting close to people, of getting into anything serious, of not having an escape route, of showing weakness, of relying on somebody who was, by definition, unreliable. After all, anyone who wasn't me was unreliable.

That was all about to change.

I'd been in a relationship for three years in high school, lived with the guy for six months, turned him down - twice - when he asked me to marry him. And in that relationship, my first taste of what it was "relationships" were supposed to be, I became everything I hated.

I became a weak-willed, screaming, miserable wreck. I hated myself. I wanted to kill myself. I was a depressed, hysterical ball of self-hatred. I was terrified of everything. Terrified of my boyfriend, terrified of change, terrified of failing even more than I'd already failed. I took fistfuls of my waitressing tip money and watched "Titanic" in the theaters, over and over, wishing I could be that brave to just break away from everything - all of the promises, the expectations. I should have had everything I wanted. I should have been happy. But this wasn't the life I wanted. This wasn't who I wanted to be, and I didn't know how to change it. Change felt terrifying. Failure was terrifying.

But this, this life, was worse.

I made the connection somewhere in my head that it was my reliance on my boyfriend, it was this weak, sobbing, scary relationship that had caused me to become this way, and that if I avoided getting too close, avoided relying on somebody else, if I relied only on my own strength, then I'd never become that person again.

When I was asked to shed this idea in later relationships, it was like asking me to kill myself. It was like asking me to pull out the vital clockwork inside of myself that had built me into this strong, brave person who took risks and put a backpack on her back and just went. Oh, what a brave person I'd become! Moving on when things got too stale, too comfortable. Moving on because I believed with every taut fiber in my body that if I got too comfortable, if I got stale, I'd become that weak, groveling, sniveling piece of shit I had been.

I just had to keep moving. I had to cut people out of my life, and keep moving.

Jenn told me this was a shit-ass crazy way to live my life, but it's all I had. I had no driving force to replace it. Taking this belief away from me would be like cutting off my leg and telling me to walk. I wouldn't know how. I'd have to learn everything all over again.

One of the brutal experiences of my eighteen months of supreme craziness was realizing how easy it was to die. Was coming to the understanding of how much easier it was for me to die, on a daily basis, than everybody else. My death was just a little bit closer.

I should be dead already.

I made some crazy decisions based on that near-death experience. Some crazy decisions and then... some other crazier ones.

I was thinking about past relationships, past loves, and remembering an ex who really hated himself, drove himself to do stuff with this ragged internal monologue of self-hate, and I thought, God, how can you use self-hate as such a powerful motivator? How could I be with someone so full of self-hate?

And then I remembered that that's how I used to be. That's what drove me. Self-hate. Fear. Hate at the person I used to be. Fear of becoming that person again. Fear of giving it all up, of throwing up my hands and crying and saying, "That's all I could do." Not fear of never accomplishing anything, but fear of never even trying.

I don't mind failure.

What I mind is the not trying.

With the self-hate gone, with that terror-motivation gone, I realized... Yeah. With that gone, I was finally able to let go and love people, and start planning for futures; futures with other people in my life besides, well, me. For the first time, I allowed my heart to be broken. Really broken. Not hurt. Not bruised. I opened myself up that way. And it sucked, and it made me feel weak and stupid. I hated it.

But it wasn't the end of the world. Far from it.

So if I wasn't being driven by self-hate anymore, what was driving me? Something had to keep me going. There's something else that pushes me to make a better career for myself, to keep pounding out books, to develop a kick-ass workout plan to get the buffness I want, to budget, to build a life. Where does that motivation come from? Not just to imagine that life, but to build it? I could just sit around delivering the bare minimum at work, bumming off my roommates until they kicked me out, renting forever, blaming others for my problems, racking up more credit card debt, building one-sided relationships, going to be early, giving up on workouts, cause really, why bother? Who cares?

I care. And I care enough to use everything in my power to build the life I want.

Where does it come from?

From almost dying. From seeing how easily everything just... stops. You just go to sleep. And you don't wake up. That's it.

There's no great mystery, no second chances, no pie in the sky, no ghostly light, nobody's hand in the dark. You just go to sleep. You're done.

This is all you've got.

The realization of how precious this is, how close we all are to just stopping... It really pulled me up short this year. It make me realize how much I still want to do. I remind myself every day that I'm living on borrowed time. Time even more precious than before, because it's like getting a second chance. A second chance to live, to create, to love, to build, to do.

In death, everything stops.

If death is about stopping, then living is about going. Pushing. Moving forward.
It's not just other people who are unreliable anymore. My own body betrayed me. I'm unreliable, too. We're all taking a risk. We're all afraid. All of us have hearts that can be broken. That's the risk we take. Every day.

We're all afraid.

But my desire to live, to really LIVE, trumps all those fears. All those risks.

Living is all we've got.

The Sarah Conner Chronicles

"Pack the guns. I'll make pancakes."

I mean, really, it couldn't get much cooler than that.

It took me some time to warm up to this one. The woman who plays Sarah is that chick from The 300, so though she's not as kick-ass as I'd like her to be, I have faith that she'll warm up as things go along. She's got a strong face and a good presence. I think she'll find her groove soon enough (yes, a lot of that is that I'd like her to be physically more powerful looking than she is now. +20 lbs and some muscles, OK, people? This is Sarah Conner. I'll give you the teenager terminator, but give me my buff, scary, kick-ass heroine too, OK?).

Summer Glau was perfectly cast as the awkward terminator; she creates just the right dissonance in her performance between high-school chick and scary Other. It's a good performance. Like Heady's, I think it'll get better as it goes on.

The kid? Yeah, well, hopefully he'll get a backbone and some fucking sense as things go on. You need to have somebody strong enough to stand next to these women, and thus far, he's underwhelming.

You'd also think that with so many folks recognizing Sarah, she'd, like, get a fucking hair cut and dye job, tho, don't you think?

I'm just sayin'. I'm not gonna handwave that one much longer.

You also gotta love all the guns and violence and the wacky space travel and rebels-from-the-future thing. Throwing in a huge cast of rebels and terminators should also make things really interesting. I like the idea of creating a far-future army in the past to fight the creation of their own future.

Making this movie "fix" the crap that was movie 3 was brilliant also. I was hoping they'd do that. Who fucking kills Sarah Conner?

Puleeez.

We'll definately be watching the others.

Dubai

Where your $3.50 a gallon goes...

Quote of the Day

"Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot."
- D.H. Lawrence

Today's (Other) Song, Stuck On Repeat

I just bought both of these on iTunes. Since I was out of fun money for the month, I decided I would go without blue cheese on my salad this week in order to pay for it.

Want something, swap something.

I hate budgets.

The Wolfgang Press - "A Girl Like You"

You go to sleep
I want to sail in your head
And when you speak
You know you've got to make sense

You want to say
That it's me you know best
I say a girl like you
She was born to be blessed

My hands are yours
And you can take them from me
And take my mouth
I have nothing to say

You want to fly
To some other place
I say a girl like
She was born to be kissed
Born to be kissed

One thousand times
And your mother too
One thousand times

You're gonna say
You say you want to be free
But when you fall
You wanna fall back to me

You want to fly
And there's no disgrace
I say a girl like you
She was born to be blessed

My hands are yours
Cause I don't know how to pray
Take my mouth
I have nothing to say

I lift my heart
Up to a higher place
Up to a girl like you
Who was born to be kissed
Born to be kissed

One thousand times
And your sisters too
One thousand times
A girl like you

One thousand times
And your mother too
One thousand times
And your sisters too

One thousand times
And a girl like you
One thousand times
One thousand times

Because I saw you
Because I saw you

Today's Song, Stuck on Repeat

The Wolfgang Press - "People Say"

People say it's easy living in the light
Never see the hard times, never see the fight
Simple when it's slow but only if it's right
I only see the good times everytime
And now I've seen the whole, I'm ready to believe
And now I've seen the proof, I'm ready to concede
The same amount of hope is here upon my back
People say they know

People say they think
But they don't
And they they say they will
But they won't
People say they think
But they don't
That's all mine

Stepping into black and living in the light
Living isn't easy but life it does divide
Thinking of having babies is won't seem right
You're going to have a hard time everytime

And we're holding up the seeds like we're holding up the flame
Fearing that the women won't breed another name
Never tear apart what you're reaching to achieve
People say they know

People say they think
But they don't
And they they say they will
But they won't
People say they think
But they don't
That's all mine

Staring into black whilst living in the light
Living isn't easy but life it does divide
Charlie Manson said that everything is right
And Charlie Manson knows

People say they think
But they don't
And they they say they will
But they won't
People say they think
But they don't
That's all mine

And God's War Isn't "Marketable"...

... Then market it as "literary" spec fiction, yo.

The sight of 30 determined girls, many in headscarves, sparring and shadow-boxing, is extraordinary in Kabul. Women in burkas stalk the streets outside huddled against icy winds.

The teenage boxers, none of whom is older than 18, are part of a new generation which has grown up with only dim memories of Taleban rule and its stifling repression of women. They are ambitious, and can see nothing strange about women boxers.


Seriously, after writing the boxing stuff in God's War, this was kind of eerie to read.

Another Kind of Mod

Someday, I will be able to afford to put together my own gaming computer. And on that day, my friends, my modding skillz will finally be appreciated by pony aficionados and gamer geeks alike.

Lo, on that day...

Workah Workah

I've spent this week getting out of the last of my ennui. I've been trying to figure out what direction I want to push all of my energy into, and with the upshot my writing and career is sort of headed in right now, I decided to push all this extra energy into those directions.

Physically, I'm really healthy right now and feeling pretty fantastic. As said, I've got a lot of mental and physical energy, and no real firm place to put it. So.

With this strict budget of mine, and the one-year-for-a-car, two-years-for-a-house goals, I need to start putting more energy into getting to a place, careerwise, that I'd like to be. That is, finding ways to improve what I do, increase what I make, and certainly make more money freelancing (fiction and Other).

So I finally firmed up that decision this week. I have some ideas for work, and I've started putting together some corporate communication plans, building new projects for myself, and I'll do a couple meetings with some folks next week to talk about some corp marketing stuff and see where everyone is so I can figure out the best place to put myself.

The thing with working without any real supervisor is that I have to sort of anticipate what folks need and build it. If I want something bigger, I need to build it. I need to show I'm up to that. It's a fun place to cut my marketing and com teeth. I want to work toward that house. This is where I need to push this.

Even if I get cut after season, these are great skills I can transfer to other places. Showing what I can develop, build, and implement will look great on the old resume.

There's a huge shift I need to take, personally, to really move all my energies over there. I'm still sort of all over the board. But I did finally make the decision this week about what I feel is the most important thing right now, the best place to put displaced energy.

So making that decision, tough as it is, felt good, at least.

I'm in a good place.

I know where my heart is.

Thoughts

Should I sign up my pony mods for the Wiscon art show?

I'm wondering if people would actually pay for any of these, you think? I don't want to take up space that'd be better suited to more talented artists. It's a tough room.

Been thinking about it.

Sugar Sugar

I always forget that meatloaf is not, in fact, made entirely of meat.

Blast.

I Like You!

A Glimpse Inside the Head of a Schizophrenic

A taste of what it's like inside the head of a schizophrenic (Travis, don't watch this one. Seriously).

One For the Road

Temporary Insanity

Just crazy.