Kameron Hurley

Officially Through the Middle

I’ve officially passed through the Dreaded Middle of the book. This isn’t so much a word count thing (I thought, until I did the word count) as a scene thing. The worst is over, and now we’re going out to kick some ass.

This fact does, however, neatly dovetail with this afternoon’s wordcount (still 2500 behind schedule):

Now comes the long pause while I clean up the first 3/4 of the book so I can write one long, smooth end-tying, ass-kicking ending.

Yes, this means line edits.

I’m slashing at least twelve pages and going back to get in some foreshadowing and more clearly tying folks and events together. I’d like to avoid dog-sized holes in the plot. Let’s keep them roach-sized, please.

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Strange Days

Why is it that the happiest scenes are always the hardest for me to write?

Maybe because, in my books, happy scenes always mean the worst is about to happen.

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Back to School

I’m officially signed up for my first Economics class and my first Marketing class, paid for part and parcel by the company. How could I not take advantage of that?

I’m so thrilled to be in school again, I can’t even tell you. The plan right now is to just go ahead and get the AA in Marketing Management. I mean, if they pay for it, why not? Helps me diversify and keeps my brain busy.

These two are online courses to start, since I have moving and wacky schedules and writing deadlines and most classes were full cause it’s the last week to register. Next quarter I’ll do one or two more, real-world classes this time. I need to socialize more, and school’s a good excuse.

Gets me out and about.

Also, more apartment hunting today! I have three more lined up for the weekend.

Life: it’s not bad, yo.

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Things I Find More Than a Little Embarrassing

Standing in line at Chipotle tonight, the one right around the U of Dayton, minding my own business….

… and then!

Some jocky 20-something college kid gets in line behind me. I did not notice him at all when he walked up.

Oh no, I did not notice him until I smelled him. I recognized the scent immediately, not because it made me want to gag, but because the smell made me want to turn around and tear all his clothes off, just like in the commercials.

Yes, indeed: he was wearing Axe body spray.

Seriously. It triggers my crazy-attraction Kryptonite response like nothing else besides the Real Deal.

I find my stunning physical reaction to this body spray – so ridiculously like the commercials – to be incredibly embarrassing.

Seriously. I had to turn my back to him. I had to force myself not to turn and look, because I knew he was just some kid and certainly not All That, but gawd was I feeling otherwise… heady scent-drunk.

Sometimes I’m just so damn easy.

Yum.

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Perspective

One of my coworkers announced today that he and he wife officially paid off their house yesterday. They’ve been scrimping and saving ever since they bought it to get rid of the payment.

He’s 26 years old.

He’s now doing research into investments.

DIE PUNY HUMAN!!!!

Um… next month, I’ll pay off a credit card?

Damn.

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Ridiculous Amounts of Writing

20 pages today, to catch up. I accomplished this by skipping some filler scenes and going straight for the good ones. Sadly, it means tomorrow I get to write a bunch of filler scenes.

Still about 2500 behind the schedule, but that ain’t no thing. I’ll have a draft of Black Desert by the end of April.

No, really! It’s like a spring miracle!

Note I did not say it was going to be a *good* draft, but it’ll be a draft nonetheless. My first drafts are always pretty wild.

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What $425 Rents You in Dayton, OH

Really, it wasn’t all that bad. The kitchen was smallish, the closet space was minimal, and the bathroom was the size of an NYC bathroom (ya’ll from there know what I’m talking about), which gives me panic attacks.

But it was right down the street, reasonably clean, and the rooms were, well, adequate.

But that’s all it was, really: adequate. It was like the apartment I rented in South Africa. It was… enough. Adequate. But wandering around, looking at the panic-attack-inducing bathroom, I realized it just wasn’t enough for me.

I mean, hell, I’m 28 years old. I have a good job. I’m not a student anymore, and though I want to live frugally, do I really want to live like a cockroach? There’s living frugally, and then there’s panic attacks in the bathroom.

So I’m upping my limit to $525 instead of under $500. I want closet space, a balcony, and a decent sized bathroom in additional to my dishwasher and air conditioning. Call me high maintenance.

Call me old.

But you know what? It’s about damn time I lived like an adult and not a college kid in a fucking dorm room.

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The Contract Arrives!!!!!

Happy author~~!!!!!

Happy contract!

Description of the future goods to be delivered…. For those who can’t read the smallish text, it reads: “Each work shall be a Middle Eastern-inspired fantasy novel featuring organic technicians, brawling mullahs, swarms of magician-trained locusts, and a former government assassin turned bounty hunter.”

Yes, yes they will.

I love my job.

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Results of My Fitness Test

As part of our health and wellness program at work, we do fit tests every three months.

The results?

My weight = the same

My body fat percentage = the same

Resting heart rate = improved

Pushups = 8 more than last time

Situps = the same

Measurements = lost almost two inches around my hips and half an inch around my waist.

The rest?

You guessed it.

About the same.

This is why I don’t use a number on a scale to measure my progress. I measure progress by pushups and heartrate, honestly.

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Another One of Life’s Little Ironies

Since it looks like I’ll have my own place May or June 1, I started shopping online for my old French perfume. Afterall, living on my own means that I can, once again, use scented products without slaughtering one of my roommates! Huzzah.

Arielle, my longtime favorite perfume since highschool made by Fragonard, the wonderful French perfumerie, has, sometime over the last year, been discontinued.

I had half a bottle left with Jenn at the old apartment. I’m sure it has since been pitched at some point during the horrific endgame that was our friendship (and yes, totally my fault. Much more was lost than half a bottle of discontinued perfume, but it’s one more thing lost during that time in my life that cannot be replaced).

I guess I could get some Soleil or Capucine or Reve Indien, but… but… Yeah.

One more thing gone.

It’s funny how sometimes it’s the little things that get to you.

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