In reverse order of occurrence:
Assmar makes me do funny things
Like ride down the highway in 40-degree weather with the windows down and the heat blasting at the floorboards. The cool air lowers my body temperature (bad cooldown after hip-hop) and the hot air keeps my lungs from seizing up in the cold. Seems weird to me.
Continue reading Three fun things on dance-day
Well, it’s not quite still Saturday, but as promised, here’s a new Witches story, called “The welcome goodbye“:
Hardi stopped pacing.
“Why are you so hot under the collar for this project?” Jim asked quietly.
Hardi opened and closed her mouth. “I just… I want to do something about this.”
Now I’m going to bed. Zzz.
I came down with a cold two weeks ago, and the next thing I know, I’ve missed three of my own deadlines for posting stories, haven’t danced in two Mondays, and haven’t done a lick of the design work for the non-profit I’m trying to work with. In good news, I can sleep soundly through the night again without choking on my own phlegm.
It’s times like these that remind me not to try to “catch up”, but just to keep moving. It’s not like I fell off a bandwagon; I can’t make up for two weeks of missed productivity.
That said, there will be a story this Saturday. It may not be in the morning, and it may be a Witches story instead of a TC story, but there’ll be a story. And then another one no later than Wednesday. …And so on. The moral of this tale is that I should have had a damn backlog of stories. I’ll be getting on that now.
Whoo. If you can believe it, I’m starting up a second story series, tentatively titled “The Witches of Ming Ung“, which will be published on Wednesdays. Transhuman Congress will continue to be published on Saturdays.
“Witches” is a fixed-length series, so it won’t just be me splashing around in a pool of gooshy artificial intelligences. It’s science fiction, like TC, but in a different ‘verse and with a different feel. It’s a journey with a beginning and an end.
The first baby is called “First sight“:
She hit the streets running, heading out of her tiny town, out into the desert. She ran straight towards Hun and Han, both heavy and pale blue in the eastern sky.
She felt herself slowing down as the eastern horizon began to lighten. She glanced back to see how far she’d come and felt her vision skew painfully as she turned.
She was suddenly in a mob, her feet barely on the ground as she was pushed and shoved with the mass of bodies. She coughed convulsively, lungs burning with heat and smoke. Her hand gripped Layla’s relentlessly as the crowd moved them away from the building, the explosion and the fires. She couldn’t lose her daughter in this crowd. She couldn’t, or she’d never find her again.