Work in Progress, Plus an Exhortation About the Write-a-thon

July 11, 2011
2 Comments
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clarion west, fantasy tea shops, write-a-thon

Mysterious Silver Writing on Black Paper — I've been jotting down notes for these pieces in a wonderful notebook made of black paper I found at the University Bookstore. Anything looks more profound written in silver ink.

As many of you know, I am working on a Big Fat Fantasy Trilogy and chunks of it have become my write-a-thon goal. I hope to have a complete rough draft by the end of July and am well on track for that. Interspersed in the narrative are little set pieces. I thought I’d share a recent one and mention that if you support me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon, you will get at least two more of these AND the first three chapters of the book over the course of the Write-a-thon, even for the smallest of donations. Only people supporting me in the Write-a-thon will see these pieces before publication.

If you donate, shoot me an e-mail or drop a comment here and I will make sure you are on the mailing list for the next one.

From Pamphlet series #3 of A Visitor’s Guide to Tabat, published by Spinner Press.

While in Tabat, you’ll want to try the drink it’s famous for: chal. Salty fish and seaweed are mixed with strong black tea in what is admittedly an acquired taste for many. The drink supplies the city dwellers with energy and places to exchange thoughts and news. Many chal houses pride themselves on the antiquity of their brews, which may be years, decades, or in at least one case, centuries old.

The Dancing Cup: Located at the edge of Salt and the Serpentine, the Cup hosts students from the nearby College of Mages. Go here to catch a glimpse of them showing off new spells and minor magics, particularly in the open air of the back courtyard. Their house chal is over a hundred years old, but they offer many variants, including cider and other fruit drinks. Open all hours.

Two chal shops near Tabat’s Arena are renowned: the Blade’s Savor and Berto’s. Fierce rivalry between the two often leads to savings for customers willing to switch allegiance. Both shops frequently sponsor Gladiators, many of which will be spotted drinking and telling stories in one or the other. Bella Kanto and the majority of the Brides of Steel school can be found in Berto’s. These are the only shops you’ll find open during Tabat’s Games. Open all hours.

The Salty Purse, situated a block from the docks on Trade Way, claims a chal of over 200 years provenance, and serves only that, along with ship’s hardbread, doing a hearty business in the former, if not the latte. Open all hours.

In Tabat’s small theater district, the Fuchsia and Heron is favored by actors and wealthy theater goers. The most expensive shop in the city, it subsidizes actors’ tabs and even pays a few to patronize it, ensuring a steady flow of Tabat’s most glittering figures. Open from the last afternoon bell till the last night bell only.

2 Responses

Anne Barringer says:

July 11, 2011 at 11:49 am

I did a couple weeks ago, and I will see if I can’t donate a little more on payday. Whoot for you and keep up the great work!

Anne

Reply
1. Cat says:
  
  July 12, 2011 at 8:39 am
  
  Anne – You are definitely on the mailing list! Thank you. 🙂
  
  Reply

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Preorder Page! Plus Some More Talking About Book Promotion Progress

August 27, 2012

If you’d like to preorder Near + Far from Hydra House, you can do so here. We will have some copies with us at WorldCon. If you’re there and around Saturday night, please stop by our Pink + Blue party, up on the 32nd floor.

I’ve been working on the jewelry, which got pretty much finished up today. We’ll be giving away 30-35 of those at the party, plus books, stickers, CDs, and handmade journals.

Here’s a bunch of the pieces laid out:

Images of promotional jewelry created using art by Mark W. Tripp for Cat Rambo's collection of SF short stories. — Here's most, but not all of the pieces. There's still about twenty to be done at this point.

And here’s closeups of some of the same image. One thing is for sure — each of these is unique!

Promotional jewelry for the Chicago Worldcon book launch party of Cat Rambo's Near+ Far, made using Ice Resin and assorted findings. — The various jewelry accoutrements came from the Redmond Ben Franklin's. This early batch has some blotchiness, which we learned to avoid in subsequent batches by laminating the paper onto the tile or into the finding before resin was applied.

I’m working on a piece for the SFWA Blog about promotional giveaways. What are the best — and worst — ones you’ve seen? What resources would you recommend to people? The stickers are the interior art, done in a nice size that’s big enough not to lose but small enough to be able to use in a number of places.

Promotional jewelry created using Ice Resin and art by Mark W. Tripp from Cat Rambo's SF short story collection, Near + Far. — These are waiting to get filled with resin. They'll take a few days to cure, but when ready will look like glass, and all the roughness here, created by brush marks in the mod podge, will be imperceptible.

One of the things that’s emerged from the discussion so far is to use things that people will use and keep on using, whether it’s bookmarks, pens, notebooks or a host of other clever items. The fans Mary Robinette Kowal has been giving away with Glamour in Glass were mentioned several times, and I know I thought of her cleverness with temporary tattoos to address an issue with the first edition.

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WIP: The Bloodwarm Rain, Part 3

June 19, 2014

I’m on fire! was my first thought.

Then “” some very stupid part of me bubbled up But look at how pretty the blue edges flicker “” and then panic overwhelmed me again as some lizard part of my brain scrambled to get out of the way of I’M ON FIRE.

Everyone else was doing so, and it looked as though they hadn’t lost any seconds to contemplation of the prettiness. Wren had drawn up short, ten feet away, her fists balled as she stared at me, the two new guys on either side, each with a hand on her shoulder. They exchanged glances, blinked as though surprised, and stepped back. Wren kept staring. She swallowed, and the snake tattooed along the side of her neck writhed.

The troupe is half human, half Underpeople, though June’s as human as they come. The latter hate flame, most of them, it’s hardwired in. Most of them faded towards the back of the crowd and one of the mini elephants squealed admonition in the scuffle of movement.

Roto was the only one who came forward. His eyes were wide and panicked, his lips curled back in alignment to his stiffly leaning ears, his whiskers silver lines against his dark cheeks.

He said, “Meg, what’s happening?”

It was so unfair. How was I supposed to know what was happening? I didn’t have a clue. I opened my mouth to say that, but all that came out was an agonized shriek, even though I felt no physical pain. It was just a howl of frustration and want and loneliness, all the loneliness of having the circus as my family but no one mine, no one bound to me by blood, so I never knew where I’d fit.

Something cool around my shoulders. June, wrapping me in a silvery blanket.

“I need you to take a deep breath,” she said.

I tried, but the sound kept coming out.

She laid her hand over mine. “Breathe.”

Flames danced over her skin where it touched mine. The blue fabric of her jacket began to smolder, flaring orange and sparking along the line of the hem.

“Breathe.“

Nothing physical but that coolness against my back, as though the blanket were drawing the flame inside it. But in my head, something slammed down so all my consciousness went to breathing, to the act of pulling in the air, feeling it rush into me, my ribs dwelling to contain as much as possible, holding it for a beat and then releasing…

“Okay,” June said. “Okay, Meg.”

I blinked. The flames were gone, but the hem of her jacket still flared orange one last second before dying away.

“You’re tired. I’m putting you in Nursie.”

I tried to protest. Riding in Nursie was boring beyond belief. One of her settings had gone wonky and she treated everyone as though they were a six-year-old. But at the same time, I realized, it sounded so good, lying down in darkness and not thinking for a while.

Before I knew it, I was tucked in Nursie’s depths. Vanilla scented mist sprayed down around the couch.

“Now I’m going to tell you the story of the Brave Little Kitten,” she announced.

That was all right. At least it was one of the comprehensible stories. But something else caught my attention. I rolled closer to the hatch opening, trying to hear out.

Outside, June shouting.

“All right! These fellows either lair nearby or they’re affiliated with the town.”

Nursie said, “Once upon a time “””

“Wait,” I said. “Nursie, can I have a drink of water first?”

The story paused as a cup rattled into the dispenser and began to fill.

June said, “Either way, we can’t go back “” you know that as well as I “” and it’s better to make these disappear and keep moving rather than have others come look and find us with them.”

Muffled agreement. Nursie said, “Drink your water, Meg.”

I drank it as slowly as I could, but all I heard were doors slamming and engines starting again. I felt dizzy. It was hard to swallow.

Warm vanilla sprayed me again as I set the cup down.

Nursie said, “Blood pressure dropping.”

Something snaked from the ceiling towards me. I heard Nursie’s voice, as though from a very far distance. “Administering sedation.”

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Work in Progress, Plus an Exhortation About the Write-a-thon

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