I took a look at my stated goals for the year, and although I've made progress on them, I'm certainly not going to get all of them met before this December 31.

Edit two novels and get at least one out to agents. I edited one, sent it out for crits, read the crits, and prepared a new edit plan for it. For the other, I've read through it and prepped an edit plan/outline. Nothing has made it as far as an agent.

Submit one novella and one novelette. Novella done, submiited, results posted. Novelette was supposed to go to Nocturne Bites; I've decided to shelve that project indefinitely (i.e., trunk it), even though I am almost finished with the edits.

Outline NaNo 2007. Done as part of above editing plans.

And a new novel for NaNoWriMo? I certainly participated. I even won. What I did not do was write a complete novel, and Jim Bob is not going to be finished this month, either.

So the final score for 2009 goals? Actually, pretty good. I didn't get as much done as I wanted on novels, either writing or editing, as I wanted, but I did make progress.

What does this mean for 2010? I'll roll over the editing and writing, of course, as a minimum. However, I should get more done in the coming year. My youngest is in daycare now, which will give me more time. Also, we're not taking as long a family vacation -- thus, I'm expecting to get far more done and will be posting 2010 goals that reflect this.

For those who may be interested, here is the official graph of my writing:


If you want to see the actual numbers, you can view my progress report here. Note that because I was up late writing Friday night (which it counts as Saturday morning, you know, watching the clock and all) and then had a good day (7,009 words before 9 p.m.), the number for the 28th is actually insanely large (11,141). Yes, I really did get a 10k (plus!) day in this year. Thank goodness for that.

Our region did really well, too:


And now it's over.

Not that I've finished my draft of The Adventures of Jim Bob Drake and His Zombie Blue-Tick Coonhound, Chet. Far from it. But now I can work on some of my other goals while I finish that up.

I'd meant to do one for each year I've been alive, but I think this covers the basics.

*****

I am thankful for my husband.

I am thankful for two happy, healthy children who love exploring.

I am thankful my kids love books.

I am thankful for a home, heat, food, clothes, all of my material needs met.

I am thankful my husband has a steady job doing something he loves.

I am thankful that both my husband and I do work where time is (at least somewhat) flexible, and we can both make it to such things as parent-teacher conferences in the middle of the week.

I am thankful for health insurance, present and past, that has covered so much!

I am thankful there are so many writers out there creating stories, books, and more for me to enjoy.

I am thankful that so many writers, editors, and agents share their expertise.

I am thankful for editors who have given me feedback on stories, whether or not they have bought the stories.

I am thankful for editors who have bought stories from me.

I am thankful for people who want to read my stories.

I am thankful for the Internet and the ease of access to others of like mind that it gives me.

I am thankful for professional mailing lists.

I am thankful for communities of writers on-line, including Forward Motion, NaNoWriMo, and Absolute Write.

I am thankful for the writing friends I have met on-line.

I am thankful for my co-ML in NaNoWriMo, who talked me out of quitting.

I am thankful for the encouraging people in our NaNo region.

I am thankful for social media sites that let me keep in touch with friends and family.

I am thankful for hot chocolate.

I am thankful for chocolate in general, if it comes right down to it.

I am also thankful for tea, which sustains me through most of my days.

I am thankful for those nights (however rare) when I get a full night's sleep.

I am thankful for daffodils in spring.

I am thankful for mornings when the fog wreaths the trees on the hill across the way, and the branches look like fingers stuck with cotton candy.

I am thankful for deer in the backyard (except when the dog insists on chasing them -- and I may not be so thankful when I get a vegetable garden in).

I am thankful for digital cameras.

I am thankful for the wonders of modern electronics, from wireless printers to desktop computers to cellphones to iPods.

I am thankful that I can still talk to my mom.

I am thankful that I have an over-active muse.

I am thankful for the wide variety of colors in the world.

I am thankful for music -- Taizé, taiko drumming, Bach, Beethoven, country, '80s pop, kids' songs, and so much more.

I am thankful for warm sweaters.

I am thankful for the ability to read.

I am thankful for the crafting ability I have -- knitting, crocheting, a bit of sewing, baking.

I am thankful for my life.

I was supposed to go to Philcon this past weekend. I'd been looking forward to it for months. I really got a lot out of it last year (when I meant to go for just Saturday and enjoyed it so much I went back on Sunday).

From my wording, you can probably guess that I didn't go.

It's been one of those months -- one kid illness after another, and even when CG's healthy, she's not sleeping well, which means I'm not sleeping well. Lots of stress, not a lot of rest, and way too much to do. I thought maybe Philcon would be a break for me, but when it came down to it, it felt like just one more thing to squeeze into a busy life.

Instead, I stayed home and had a relaxing family weekend, enjoyed the unseasonable weather, had some very good days on the writing front, and caught up on sleep. I feel much refreshed this morning, although I do have a tinge of regret at what I missed.

That makes two cons -- Boskone and Philcon -- that I intended to go to this year and didn't make it. *sigh*

The nice thing about cons is that they are recurrent phenomena. I've already registered for Boskone in February. I'll probably register for Philcon early as well. Actually, I'm looking at a bigger con for next year, too -- World Fantasy. Columbus is pretty close to here, after all, and I did enjoy World Fantasy when I went in 2005 (Madison).

There is a bit of time conflict involved for World Fantasy -- it takes place over Halloween weekend, and CG will just be of an age where she's anticipating it. That will be exciting. Thus, I'm thinking of a compromise. Trick-or-treating is always Friday night here, so I can skip the first two days of the con, fly out early Saturday, and just have the weekend there. (Then come back ready to start NaNo bright and early Monday, right?)

2009 -- no Boskone, no Philcon. 2010 -- hoping to do better.

Well, technically, I haven't gotten the rejection yet. But . . .

For the past few years, I have said, "Oh, I have to enter a novella in the Science-Fiction at the UPC contest." Hard SF novella, prize money of 6,000 Euros, what's not to love?

This year, I actually managed to send off an entry. After the fact, maripat gave me a critique on it, and I blushed to realize how raw a work I had sent off into the world.

Today, I wandered over to the contest Website to see whether the results had been posted. To my delight, they have. Yup, that's me on the short list. Right after Kristine Kathryn Rusch. *faints* Maybe the novella wasn't that horrible, after all.

Yes, I intend to enter again next year. Yes, next year, I'll get the novella critted before I submit it.

But right now, I'm basking in the glow of doing that well. This was the best result I thought realistically possible, and I am well pleased.

Been playing with a new idea, and I wrote up the following bit of backstory for it today. The quasi-Italian names are heavily influenced by my current paying work, proofreading about Tuscany & Umbria. Enjoy!

***

12 Avrill, 43rd year of Cossimino's reign

Gracious Patero Brucco,

It begins. The dukes are eyeing Meo's vineyards and orchards, and they look to my own lack of a company of knights. They will not move while Father still lives, but the wound he took when his sword broke is great. He pretends to more strength than he has, I fear, and it weakens him more. It is an open secret about the court.

At times, I wish Giorgio had lived to adulthood, lived to be a boon to our father. When I was younger, I wondered that he could fall when riding with Lucia; our sister was ever the horsewoman of the family, even as a young girl. Could she not have done something to save him? In my blackest moments, moments I dared not even to confess to you at the time, I wondered if she had done something, if his death lay at her door.

Nonsense, of course. Certainly our father has no doubts about her loyalties. Last night in full kingly regalia before the court, he gave her the broken blade and bade her keep it until the angeli see fit to send us someone to forge it anew. Meo protested, of course. He said that as eldest living son, it ought to be his to carry. Father said he would not wish the fate of the broken blade upon his son.

Without the sword, however, no one will heed sickly Meo, too weak to defend his own home. If he has knights loyal enough to defend his family, I shall be surprised to learn it. Not that I expect to live long enough to see it. I ask only that you keep my wife and son safe, for a time may soon come when only my little Apollito will survive to inherit, and to rule when the angeli do grace us with a heaven-touched smith. I hope it comes soon, before Father dies, but my heart knows I will not see the sword whole once more.

Tell my family I love them, but I must be here for Father. Domenecca will understand.

Ever your servant,

Leoncio di Cossimino

My morning was taken up primarily with a dental cleaning (which for some reason always seem to take close to 90 minutes -- what's up with that?) and some minor shopping at Walmart, such as a mouth guard for T-Bug, who needs a new one for karate (losing baby teeth, gaining permanent ones -- old one doesn't fit).

For not having sat down at my computer until noon, I'm not doing too badly. However, when I look at how much needs to be done today -- finish requested edits on the index I turned in last week, get a decent chunk (at least 60 pages) proofread on the new paying work project, laundry in the background* -- and realize how exhausted I am, I start to feel like I can't do it.

The exhaustion comes from two major factors: the kids shared cold germs with me, and CG's not letting me sleep. First she was congested, then she started having wet diapers that soaked through her pajamas. Both are good reasons for her waking up and needing to be picked up, but a few nights in a row of that, and she makes it a habit. Which means I'm getting no sleep between 3 and 5 a.m. I get back to sleep barely in time to be awakened again to get people off to daycare, school, work, whatever.

I don't want much. Not really. Say, maybe, three nights in a row of 8 to 9 hours sleep. Not even half a week, just enough to feel less like a somnambulist. Maybe someday . . .

*Husband just called. "You are picking up the girl from daycare today, right?" "I am?" Evidently I am. Add that to the list of things that need doing.

So bonniers pointed to Jon Carroll's column on the Unitarian Jihad. I am not Unitarian, but I did find it an amusing read. Of course, I've always liked Jon Carroll.

My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Sister Sabre of Compassion.
Get yours.

I really do like the writing on this. However, it doesn't work as a story. Nothing the characters do has any impact on the ending. It might work as part of a longer piece, and I may use it for that when I figure out a longer story it'll fit into. For now, though, I'll just share it.

Tantalus
by Erin M. Hartshorn

A tap sounded on the door; General Barros looked up. Major Pereira entered without waiting for an invitation. "Our contacts in Washington confirm it -- our neighbors have North Korean backing."

Barros shook his head and returned to poring over the maps spread across the rickety table in front of him. "Have there been any weapons shipments? Intercepted communications? A suitcase of money? Anything we can use to get world opinion on our side?"

He didn't want American troops in their country, and the international community wouldn't accept America's word for suspected violence any more, not without proof. Barros preferred that the bodies of his soldiers not be that proof.

Pereira dropped his pack onto the table, which shuddered but did not give way beneath the weight. "Nothing. The geek posse is sifting for video content, but no one trusts the viral links anymore."

Tracing a mountain ridge with his finger, Barros didn't answer immediately. If they used burros, they could get to the old air shafts and use the mining tunnels to slip behind the border. No more than a dozen soldiers -- half a dozen would be better -- to take out lines of communication. It wouldn't be one hundred percent effective; he had to assume the other side had satphones as well. The action might slow down whatever offensive was being planned to take their land, though.

"No one?" Barros asked. "My mother still believes she can pop corn with her cellphone, but refuses to believe the water's safe to drink."

At Pereira's silence, Barros glanced up. The other man avoided his gaze. No doubt Pereira did not want to express an opinion on the gullibility of mothers, or at least the mother of his commanding officer.

"Without our tantalite, however, we will have no new cellphones for her to fear, eh?" Barros straightened and clapped the lieutenant on the shoulder. "But my plan may yet keep our mines free."

Pereira did not look comforted. "At least until the next sortie."

"Or the one after that." Barros smiled wryly. "One engagement at a time, especially if our politicians must keep the peace with the corporations who buy our metal."

That was where the North Koreans came in. They wanted their own electronics megacorporation, and if they could corner half the world supply of tantalum, their production costs would be lower than their competitors', who were gearing up recycling efforts for old cellphones and decommissioned jet engines.

Getting volunteers for the cross-border mission would have been simple, but Barros preferred a hand-picked team. Within half an hour, the plan was underway.

As their burros wended up the dirt track to the air shafts, Pereira's brother pulled alongside Barros. "I don't know if we should believe the reports from Washington."

"Your brother told you?" Not that Barros was surprised, but he would prefer some pretense of confidentiality.

"I'm serious. Pyongyang made a big presentation at the United Nations six months ago about mining the asteroid fields to scrape up what small amounts of metal the M-types will yield."

Following the United Nations wasn't Barros' job, but he was intrigued. "Small amounts? They said that?"

"No, they played it up. Maybe a couple hundred tonnes of platinum a year -- if they find kilometer-long enriched asteroids. Kargel was optimistic on that front, but I'm not sure I agree."

"So are they really up there looking?" Barros leaned to one side to maintain eye contact as his burro rounded a switchback. "Or was it all public relations?"

The younger Pereira shrugged. "I suppose it might be both. Or maybe some other reason entirely. They certainly launched, and if they weren't heading for asteroids, we would've heard about it by now." He waved one hand. "My brother believes Washington. If we find any North Koreans today, I suppose we'll have our answer."

Barros grunted. Even if overseas backers were involved, they wouldn't be public about it. And if Pereira was wrong, then no major reinforcements would be called in by satphone, no mercenary forces or guerillas paid in whatever currency the North Koreans used. Maybe he'd ask Pereira later what they used for money, if he remembered.

They saw no one on their ride. Bird and lizard calls fell silent with their travel and then returned behind them, the normal animal behavior reassuring Barros that there was no one but his group to be seen. The ridge rose clear of jungle, despite the years since the mine had been used. If their opponents knew of this backdoor into their country, they would have spotters eyeing the ridgeline. Before they reached the top, Barros signaled a halt.

"We'll wait for full dark. We have a map of the original mine. It's not completely accurate, but that's why we have the night-vision goggles." Barros laid a laminated photocopy on the ground. "We'll rappel down to the second corridor; the first exits to our side of the border. Once we're down, we'll take this route through to the other air shaft. Getting out is going to be the tricky part."

"Sir -- that may not be the hard part," the younger Pereira said.

Barros turned to look at him, but the other man was staring at the sky. Barros followed his gaze. Balls of fire, larger than any local missile, streaked toward them.

"Take cover!" Barros grabbed the map and scrambled toward an outcropping covered with brush. His men dived in different directions; Pereira wound up with him.

"The trajectory's wrong," Pereira muttered as he peered over the edge of their shelter. "Those aren't local."

Maybe the North Koreans were taking a direct hand after all. The first impact shook the ridge, and Barros risked a glance. The missile was nothing more than a rock, maybe half a meter in diameter. Rocks -- asteroids -- hurled as weapons, not banned by treaties, giving the winners control of the tantalite. The younger Pereira had been right -- there was another reason.

He grabbed for his satphone to call the Ministéria and saw the next rock coming, too large to dodge.

-The End-

Yes, that time of the year is upon us again!

My co-ML (Hi, Nicki!) started a WordPress blog for us (http://lvpanano.wordpress.com/). I've put up two posts this week on preparation:

Plotting vs. Pantsing

Methods of Plotting

Feel free to check them out.