I am in crunch mode right now. The first book of the UMSP is due in May, and I’m going to have to grind like a grindy thing to meet that deadline. My writing goal right now has been upped from 3000 words/weekend (my weekends are my only solid writing time, and my normal production rate is about 1500 words/day) to 5000 with 250 words/night on as many weeknights as I can manage. Can’t always manage the latter; I work long days, in a job that’s sometimes psychologically exhausting. But I’m gonna try, so wish me luck. As a result, I’m going to be blogging less, and a little less social.
All that said, I’m going to be plenty social this weekend, at Vericon up in Boston, for those of you who are near enough to the yard and want to drop in and say hi. I’ll be there Friday and Saturday, finishing up with a signing at the Harvard Bookstore. It’ll be nice to be in the old stomping grounds for awhile, and see old friends from the writing group I had there (the BRAWLers) and newer ones like Seanan McGuire. (Who I am totally gonna yell at for the end of Blackout, which she wrote as Mira Grant! I’m still crying, dammit.)
And speaking of crying… I mentioned this on Twitter awhile back, but I haven’t felt like talking about it much, so I’m just getting around to mentioning it here; sorry. But Besame Mucho — yes, the cat I adopted less than a year ago — passed away the Sunday before last. She was frail from the get-go, painfully thin as I noted in her introduction post, and despite a mostly healthy appetite she never managed to gain weight — lost it, actually, despite my and the vet’s best efforts. (And the vet, Dr. Quim, made an heroic effort. I really need to send the whole clinic some flowers or something, because I think her death hit them just as hard as it hit me.) Anyway, finally that weekend she just stopped eating, and there just wasn’t much to be done. Hazard of adopting an older cat. ::sigh:: But I’m glad I could make her last year, after being abandoned the way she was, safe and cozy.
Still, I wasn’t quite ready to lose another cat in so short a space. It’s hit me surprisingly hard — possibly because I had NukuNuku for 15+ years and that’s what seems normal to me, abnormally long as that was. I’m still wrestling with whether I want to adopt again. Certainly not anytime soon, but probably. …Ah, who am I kidding? I’m a cat person at heart. And my little house seems a lot quieter without someone around to go meow.
Anyway, until I’m ready to be a cat mama again, let me steer all New York-area folks toward the Prospect Park Animal Clinic, because they do good work, and they really care, and they always have abandoned and found pets available for adoption who could use a good place to live. Even if it’s only for a little while.