Category Archives: Writing

So as it turns out, there’s one small problem with winning a Hugo. (Other than the fact that it hasn’t actually arrived yet, which we are trying to track down. I am assured that Hugos do NOT go missing, and the very nice woman in charge has vowed that I shall have it, but I […]

And having just said all of that about Susan, upon having given the matter far too much thought, the real Problem of Susan, to my mind, had nothing to do with her family dying. It sucks a lot, but it happens and people can die without God Specifically Being Out To Get You. People cope […]

Unable to sleep last night, I got up and spent two hours re-reading The Silver Chair and The Last Battle, by C.S. Lewis. I had recently started re-reading the series, based on a really awesome series of blog posts by Ana Mardoll, who is doing a chapter by chapter break down of the Narnian books. […]

Well, it’s Thursday. My con crud is still working its way through my system, primarily in the form of a cough that makes me sound like John Keats. Here Lies One Whose Name Was Writ In Phlegm… And since there is no rest for the whimsical,* it’s back to the word mines for me. Working […]

I have con crud. Also, a Hugo award. Heh heh heh heh. (I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that bit. Although I’ll stop soon so people don’t think I’ve become a raging egotist, I promise.) As probably most of you know by now, Digger took the Hugo for Best Graphic Story Sunday […]

Okay, one more short snippet, just because I really had fun with this bit, and because it illustrates a couple of points about writing. First off, you may note that Sarah’s name has changed. I was not entirely happy with “Sarah.” It wasn’t quite right, and I stumbled over it a little whenever I typed […]

Okay, okay, one more because I love you and because this isn’t a real story yet and I don’t have to crouch protectively over it and wave my hands to keep the internet off until it’s done. (Fairly soon I will hit that stage, but the publishers generally don’t care about the first few chapters […]

Once upon a time there was a girl named Sarah, whose mother loved her very very very much. Her mother loved her so much that she was not allowed to play outside where someone might grab her, nor go away on sleepovers where there might be an accident or suspicious food. She was not allowed […]

She really hadn’t known. No one believed her, of course. The more sympathetic among her friends said “Oh, poor Althea, you must have been terrified, of course you couldn’t tell anyone.” Her detractors—her sisters foremost among them—all said “Of course she knew. She just didn’t care. Those poor women.” No one had actually suggested that […]