Around 600 words on The White City today, and still waiting for it to tell me how it goes. I wrote the last scene (denouement), and the closing sentence, but I'm missing like four scenes that comprise the climax.

It's interesting writing Sebastien in a situation where he is NOT in charge.

Tomorrow is a work day. God damn it. I will have focus and I will get somewhere.

Well, time to stare at it  for a while again.

Teacup today: cabbage roses, a gift from ctwriter.
Tea today: Mokalbari East
Temperature this morning: a balmy fiftyish


Sebastien is having a fraught conversation with somebody he's never met before, who knows him uncomfortably well. I have just skipped the climax and am working on the denouement.

ETA: And a very brave neighborhood cat is apparently using our back porch as a base of operations, as there are two Green Bits (TM) on the steps. I wonder if that was the end of our Kitchen Smouse.

Finished candles.

I really like the blue one.

I should eat something and work for a bit before it's time to go climbing with buymeaclue, The Jeff, and TBRE.

In other news, the rain and warmth came overnight, and now the snow is gone. It was a special delivery, just for Christmas.

Dear Reader: if you have to ask me "is this the first book in the series" when the cover clearly states BOOK ONE? I'm just not going to respect you at all. And my first instinctive response (unsent) is going to be homagawd snarky. Just sayin'.


In other news, I have now seen Avatar, and so can post an actual Informed Opinion.

And my AIO is ( not really a spoiler, but... )

After, we ended up at a new-to-me restaurant -- Whym. American comfort food, and we were mightily comforted. They have a small but acceptable scotch list, but I went with the mood of the group and had a mojito instead. I had two, in fact, which is my limit for mojitos (do not let them fool you. They are things of great and terrible evil, and if I have three, I become a force of great and terrible evil. Or at least later embarrassment.)

Oh, and I also picked up a new cookbook, while wandering through the B&N. *looks innocent and helpless and it totally mugged me, I swear...*

Christmas morning arrived when Mackie tiptoed into the bedroom at 7:00 to inform us it was time to get up.  He and Aran had already sorted all the presents.  A flurry of opening followed.  I got a huge sushi knife and much-needed clothes and the entire family got the Simpsons version of the Scene It game.  Mwah ha ha!

I fed Aran's obsession with Monty Python by giving him a can of Spam, which he's never eaten before.  He had some with his breakfast pancakes.

Later in the afternoon we went over to my in-laws for food and more gifting.  Deliciousness all around!  Mackie got a pogo stick, something he'd been agitating for since last summer.  Aran got MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL on DVD.  He's watched it about fourteen times already.

The next day we drove up to my mother's for a celebration.  It was a crowded house, with aunts and uncles and cousins and siblings and nieces and nephews.  And food, food, food.

The gifting was fun.  I received Terry Pratchett's latest book, a whole mess of organic granola, and The Charity Donation.  Some of my family members, you see, decided to trade tailored charitable donations this year instead of buying gifts.  I drew my brother Paul.  Because Paul once packed a suitcase and started down the road to running away when he was six, I donated money in his name to Covenant House, a shelter for runaway youth.  In memory of my childhood on a farm, my sister-in-law Kristi made a donation for me to Heifer International, which gives farm animals for hungry people to raise.  Kala donated money to a pet shelter in the name of Kristi's recently-deceased dog, which made Kristi cry, so Kala won.

We also had a little celebration for Mackie and Caleb (my nephew), who have birthdays.  Mackie is now eight!

Everything ended with a snow-free drive home, so yay!

Just finished and filed my review of Sherlock Holmes for Tor.com (short version: it was awful and I loved it), and before that, I made some candles. See, I used to commit chandlery fairly often but had fallen out of the habit, and yesterday cristalia mentioned she was thinking of taking it up, which inspired me to break out the wax and crayons.



I'm still staring meaningfully at The White City, trying to figure out how the damed thing works. It would be nice if I could finish it by year's-end. But it all depends on if the story tells me how it ends.

 I guess tomorrow I start rereading it again.

It's finally raining out there, and the wind is gusting fiercely, but it's 41 degrees, which seems positively balmly.

On Wednesday we drove up to Frankenmuth.

Frankenmuth is an idealized version of Germany.  It bears almost no resemblance to the reality.  It's actually a big shopping area with various unique attractions in it, especially at Christmas.  People come from all over the world to visit.  Since I grew up only a few miles away, I don't understand the impetus to travel from, say, Japan just to see Frankenmuth (as some people do), but hey--it's a big world.

Frankenmuth's most famous attraction is Bronner's, an enormous shopping complex devoted entirely to Christmas.  If it's related to Christmas, you can find it at Bronner's.  Stuff is arranged by category, so we have five acres of nativity sets, three acres of ornaments, twelve acres of stockings, and so on.  They also have on the premises a recreation of the little chapel where "Silent Night" was first written and performed.  It's kind of a fun place to visit.

We were meeting my dad up there for a Christmas visit.  We hooked up at the Silent Night Chapel and admired it.  They have the lyrics for the song posted on signs in a bazillion languages outside it, including American Sign Language, braille, Latvian, and Ukrainian.  Then it was a trip through Bronner's, though we didn't get to the entire store, not with a child under ten.

We had lunch at Zehnder's, famous for its chicken (which meant Aran ordered a hamburger).  The place was very crowded, but fortunately they opened up another dining room just as we arrived.  Once we'd ordered, Aran asked the server how many chefs they had working that day.  "Two," he said.  Mackie declared the chicken very good.  Sasha, oddly, ordered a bowl of soup and some french fries.  Usually he eats like a machine!

For Christmas I gave my dad two loaves of Latvian rye bread I'd made.  He liked them very much.  We also visited Zehnder's bakery for some more shopping.  Aran bought a donut the size of his head.  I saw some cookie cutters I liked very much (owl and wolf), but they were absolutely huge, too big to be practical, so I passed.

We drove around Frankenmuth after that, looking at the displays and talking and catching up.  A good visit.

I grew up with lots of rye bread in the house because my dad's family came from Latvia, where they eat lots and lots of rye bread.  My grandmother made it from scratch, and one time my mother asked her for the recipe so she could make it, but Grandma said she didn't really know it.  "I just use a little bit of zis and a little bit of zat," she said.

I have better resources: the Internet.  I Googled around, came up with five or six recipes for Latvian rye bread, and combined them.  Ta da!  Instant recipe.  Probably not exactly like Grandma's, but close enough.

Latvian rye bread is a sourdough bread with no oil, fat, or eggs in it.  This meant I had to start three days before I needed it because I don't have sourdough starter in my fridge, and I had to start with that.  The second day, I made the bread dough.  Here's where a mixer with a dough hook is really great--the dough is heavy as sand, and hard to work.  The finished dough had to sour overnight, bringing me to the third day.  Once it was done, I shaped it into loaves.  You have to wet your hands to work with the stuff, which gives the dough an oddly soapy-silky texture on the surface, a side-effect of rye gluten.  I let them rise and then baked them.

I was pretty sure I had it right because through the entire process, my kitchen started smelling like my grandparents' house.  And here's the thing: I hate rye bread.  It's awful, awful stuff.  If I lived in Latvia, I'd starve.  But I was making it anyway.  It was a present for my dad.

They came out dense and seemed to have the right texture, but I had no way of checking because I hadn't ever made it before and I didn't like it when I was a kid, so I didn't eat it, meaning I don't know what the correct taste is.  (I still don't like it--I can tell by the way the dough smells that I won't.  But it wasn't for me!)

So, success!

Such a busy holiday season!  Monday was Yule.  Mackie requested lasagna for supper, which Kala made.  And all day Maksim stoutly maintained that he would stay near me so I wouldn't have to disappear when Mother Berchta showed up.  After supper we welcomed the God back into the world by putting his statue back on the altar and lighting candles all around the darkened house.   When the pounding came at the door, I let Berchta in and Mackie dove under the afghan on the sofa.  Berchta grumbled and griped and distributed gifts, then stomped away.

Sometimes you have to confuse the children to keep them on their toes.

Gifts were opened and enjoyed.  The boys' favorite presents were little digital camcorders, complete with little memory chips.  (Amazing how something the size of my thumbnail holds more memory than my entire first computer.)

The days are officially getting longer!

My mom made me a totally awesome pair of pink and purple socks!



I guess now I get to sit and stare and think about how to fix The White City so it works. Maybe I will spin and listen to NPR. That seems a sitting and staring sort of occupation.

So close to the end. So close. Two ot three days' work, if I can just figure out what the work should be.

Meanwhile, today's teacup is one sent to me by stwish, made by his friends at Earthbound Arts (I also have a mermaid and a faerie queene--ornaments--from there, and both are lovely)  And today's tea is the last of the crepe faire from Stash--the last crepe faire ever, I suspect, as they've discontinued the flavor.

I have read and edited that which I have written of The White City. And wonder of wonder, I like it. A lot, actually.

And still I have no idea at all how to end it. I mean, I know who the killer is and stuff. But I don't know how to build the climax and a thematic resolution that will make a satisfying finish to the story. Also, I have to go back and put in some more clues who the killer is. Making things feel inevitable and not arbitrary is a significant portion of the storyteller's craft.

I sense a lot of staring and pacing in my life for the next week or so.

"No really. I am working!"

---

Pursuant to the spinning, I'm thinking again about the stuff we strive to get right in fantasy. So much of the work set in the past, or alternate pasts, gets the details of life so very wrong. People have no trades, or if they do they are desperate to escape them. And actually, people who work with their hands often like what they do. Making stuff, after all, is quite satisfying.

Some authors do this very well--Connie Willis, Barbara Hambly. People work in their books, and the worlds feel real.

Another thing that always seems to fall out of fantasy written by modern authors is how integrated life was. People did not have work and leisure; everything ran together. You sat and spun while someone told stories, or you sang songs and worked the winch, or talked and shucked peas. And good tradesmen were respected in direct proportion to their indispensibility. A village blacksmith or potter is a hard thing to live without.

Our modern emphasis on book learning, I think, creeps in there and corrupts how we talks about other cultures.

The subject line sounds like a killer opening line, doesn't it? But it's nothing but the unvarnished truth. The slightly varnished truth would include the dancing, the bowling, and the lesson about not ordering doubles just 'cause the bar service was slow.

And it would also talk about the fact that, when you go to bed at 3am, getting up at 8 is just damned painful. Somehow, those same five hours are easier to take when they're 1am to 6am, and I don't know why.

Yet, we did wake [and as much as I love my apartment, I have to admit that living in the East 20's has its definite charms], and we did make it to the morning showing of Sherlock Holmes.

( not exactly spoilery, but some thoughts on the movie itself )

We also saw a number of previews, including Iron Man 2 (I cringe from how bad it might be, but will be there anyway) and the remake of Clash of the Titans, which looks to be another stunning leap forward in FX, if nothing else.

And then I met up with family for the Obligatory Chinese food. We noted, with much dismay, that there are an awful lot of Gentiles having dinner in Chinatown on Christmas Day, these days. Goose wasn't enough, you had to have Peking duck, too?

And now I am home, for a few hours anyway, before heading back downtown tomorrow to see Avatar with friends (in 3D. I am talked into these things...how? Must be Sekrit Coastie Mind Tricks). And then more Holiday Socializing, leading into First Night.

But first, must finish freelance gig. And short story revisions. And author proofs for HARD MAGIC. And look longingly at the TBR 2010 pile that's already starting to build....

I hope y'all had a good day, however you spent it!

Christmas pronounced a success. (My immediate local family--none of us are actually Christians, but we celebrate a secular Christmas anyway, and often these days it even falls on the actual day. It didn't always, because my mom was a hospital employee for 25 years.)(See above, December Non-Denominational Gift-Giving Day.)

We made out first ever Yorkshire puddings, which came out awesome and we were all boggled at just how easy it is. Next time, a little longer in the oven, and we will use a metal muffin tin instead of the silicon muffin cups, because, well, the silicon cups were too slippery and the puddings just levitated themselves out of the cups rather than getting tall. Not enough friction!

(The muffin cups were a gift from truepenny: this was their inaugural run. Thank you!!!)

Here are the socks and the blanket my mom knitted me, because I promised to brag about them.

And here is my first ever hank of yarn, which I gave to my mother. It's "art yarn," which is to say it's not art yarn at all. It just sucks. But hey, it's mine and I made it.

We tried the prime rib recipe from Cook's Illustrated, and came to the conclusion that while it is good, our family recipe process is better. (We were all actually capable of stopping eating after one slice. Which never happens the way we usually do it.) However, their au jus recipe rocked, though next year we're leaving out the wine.

And Yorkshire puddings are a permanent addition. In two years, they'll be an ancient family tradition.

And then I beat the freezing rain home and let the dog out.

Now I'm going to make some tea and put on my wrist braces and go sit under my new blanket and work on The White City, because TBRE is out in the world tonight and I have the whole luxurious house to myself.

Oh, and gotta water the tree.

One of my crunched toenails fell off!

( behind a cut for the squeamish )

Your ew gross for the morning.

Your December Non-Denominational Gift-Giving Day Present from the Shadow Unit crew: "On Faith."

Come and get it.