morning comes as grey as a cat

[dduane]

At Ebooks Direct: Summer Reading Sale's still on!

Just so everyone knows: the discounts are still in place! (Because, frankly, the author could really use some cash right now, due to having to shell out much cash to deal with ongoing health challenges that are leaving her rather strapped. Details down here.*)

So anyway! If you're not located in the UK (where, unfortunately, we still can't sell direct due to Brexit [though I'm working on that!, may have found a solution at last, we'll soon see...]), please consider heading over here and seeing what we've got to offer!

There's a lot of ridiculously discounted stuff. The ebook bundles are all being held at their lowest price points for the duration (meaning specifically the “All The Wizardry” bundle, the Middle Kingdoms series bundle, the LGBTQ Pride collection, and the Feline Wizardry bundle—Even our “Give Me Everything You’ve Got” collection, which is the whole ebook store in one package, has had a bit knocked off. And naturally it all comes with our lifetime replacement guarantee. Lost your ebooks somehow? Changed readers? We'll send you new download links or swap your order's file formats at no charge. It just seems like a rational way to behave when you're not using your ebook-selling platform to fund a space program.

So can I possibly get folks to reblog this post so that those who might not have caught one of these sales before can do so now if they want to? Please & thank you!

And additionally: for those who’re already up to their necks in ebooks and don’t need more (or have got all of mine), but still want to help out with the local financial situation—if you’d like instead to drop something into my Ko-Fi, it’d be very welcome. And if you feel like doing this, I thank you very much in advance! 🙂

Support Diane Duane

Support Diane Duane

...So thanks again in advance, cousins and friends! You're all fabulous.

*Briefly: the other unexpected health junk that had been behaving itself during the spring continues to kick up cranky. (eyeroll) I don’t want to get into more detail than necessary about this (my mom used to refer to such behavior as “the Organ Recital”), but it’s an outgrowth of the internal problems that have forced me to give up long-distance travel. The MRIs and other diagnostics aren’t always something the Irish national health service pays for (depending on who referred you or recommended it). So over the last couple of months I’ve had no choice but to drop a four-figure amount of cash on this, and as a result I’ve fallen behind on my rent.

My landlord is still being easygoing about the situation, understanding what I’m going through. But I really want to get caught up on this before it gets any worse. So... you get the picture. ...Thanks for being interested.

[dduane]

Just bumping this, as (as soon as I get home from this business trip) a number of medical bills are going to come up to be handled.

Want to pick up some bargains in the Ebooks Direct Summer Reading Sale? Here's where!

Got too many ebooks but want to drop something helpful in the pot? Here's my Ko-Fi.

Support Diane Duane

Support Diane Duane

Thanks again, everybody! ...since without all of you, I'd pretty much have no hope left. ❤️

[importantcatpics]

[dduane]

[stahsm]

Hemming stitch.

Video by fashion.tailor89 on TikTok.

[blumineck]

I get why they do it, but if I picked up a bow and it sounded like this, I’d be signing up for the shield wall instead!

[roachpatrol]

Here’s a story about changelings: 

Mary was a beautiful baby, sweet and affectionate, but by the time she’s three she’s turned difficult and strange, with fey moods and a stubborn mouth that screams and bites but never says mama. But her mother’s well-used to hard work with little thanks, and when the village gossips wag their tongues she just shrugs, and pulls her difficult child away from their precious, perfect blossoms, before the bites draw blood. Mary’s mother doesn’t drown her in a bucket of saltwater, and she doesn’t take up the silver knife the wife of the village priest leaves out for her one Sunday brunch. 

She gives her daughter yarn, instead, and instead of a rowan stake through her inhuman heart she gives her a child’s first loom, oak and ash. She lets her vicious, uncooperative fairy daughter entertain herself with games of her own devising, in as much peace and comfort as either of them can manage.

Mary grows up strangely, as a strange child would, learning everything in all the wrong order, and biting a great deal more than she should. But she also learns to weave, and takes to it with a grand passion. Soon enough she knows more than her mother–which isn’t all that much–and is striking out into unknown territory, turning out odd new knots and weaves, patterns as complex as spiderwebs and spellrings. 

“Aren’t you clever,” her mother says, of her work, and leaves her to her wool and flax and whatnot. Mary’s not biting anymore, and she smiles more than she frowns, and that’s about as much, her mother figures, as anyone should hope for from their child. 

Mary still cries sometimes, when the other girls reject her for her strange graces, her odd slow way of talking, her restless reaching fluttering hands that have learned to spin but never to settle. The other girls call her freak, witchblood, hobgoblin.

“I don’t remember girls being quite so stupid when I was that age,” her mother says, brushing Mary’s hair smooth and steady like they’ve both learned to enjoy, smooth as a skein of silk. “Time was, you knew not to insult anyone you might need to flatter later. ‘Specially when you don’t know if they’re going to grow wings or horns or whatnot. Serve ‘em all right if you ever figure out curses.”

“I want to go back,” Mary says. “I want to go home, to where I came from, where there’s people like me. If I’m a fairy’s child I should be in fairyland, and no one would call me a freak.”

“Aye, well, I’d miss you though,” her mother says. “And I expect there’s stupid folk everywhere, even in fairyland. Cruel folk, too. You just have to make the best of things where you are, being my child instead.”

Mary learns to read well enough, in between the weaving, especially when her mother tracks down the traveling booktraders and comes home with slim, precious manuals on dyes and stains and mordants, on pigments and patterns, diagrams too arcane for her own eyes but which make her daughter’s eyes shine.

“We need an herb garden,” her daughter says, hands busy, flipping from page to page, pulling on her hair, twisting in her skirt, itching for a project. “Yarrow, and madder, and woad and weld…”

“Well, start digging,” her mother says. “Won’t do you a harm to get out of the house now’n then.”

Mary doesn’t like dirt but she’s learned determination well enough from her mother. She digs and digs, and plants what she’s given, and the first year doesn’t turn out so well but the second’s better, and by the third a cauldron’s always simmering something over the fire, and Mary’s taking in orders from girls five years older or more, turning out vivid bolts and spools and skeins of red and gold and blue, restless fingers dancing like they’ve summoned down the rainbow. Her mother figures she probably has.

“Just as well you never got the hang of curses,” she says, admiring her bright new skirts. “I like this sort of trick a lot better.”

Mary smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, fingers already fluttering to find the next project.

She finally grows up tall and fair, if a bit stooped and squinty, and time and age seem to calm her unhappy mouth about as well as it does for human children. Word gets around she never lies or breaks a bargain, and if the first seems odd for a fairy’s child then the second one seems fit enough. The undyed stacks of taken orders grow taller, the dyed lots of filled orders grow brighter, the loom in the corner for Mary’s own creations grows stranger and more complex. Mary’s hands callus just like her mother’s, become as strong and tough and smooth as the oak and ash of her needles and frames, though they never fall still.

“Do you ever wonder what your real daughter would be like?” the priest’s wife asks, once.

Mary’s mother snorts. “She wouldn’t be worth a damn at weaving,” she says. “Lord knows I never was. No, I’ll keep what I’ve been given and thank the givers kindly. It was a fair enough trade for me. Good day, ma’am.”

Mary brings her mother sweet chamomile tea, that night, and a warm shawl in all the colors of a garden, and a hairbrush. In the morning, the priest’s son comes round, with payment for his mother’s pretty new dress and a shy smile just for Mary. He thinks her hair is nice, and her hands are even nicer, vibrant in their strength and skill and endless motion.  

They all live happily ever after.

*

Here’s another story: 

Keep reading

[jewish-joy]

Last year, I befriended a Catholic seminarian. We've gotten to be pretty decent friends. Seeing as he was staying in town for the summer and I wasn't, I entrusted him with caring for my plant.

He did a wonderful job, but as he was returning my plant to my custody, he explained "I watered her every other day, I gave her new dirt, moved her into the sunshine, prayed the rosary-"

"What?"

He looked at me, confused. "Isn't she a plant you pray with?"

"No," I said slowly. "She's a prayer plant. That's the... colloquial name of the plant."

Upon seeing his stricken face, I realized something went wrong. Turns out, this entire time, he's been including my plant in on his prayers and leaving her near icons.

Listen, totally cool. My plant becoming Catholic is a great deal for her not dying over the summer. But now I must navigate this interfaith household. Keep me in your thoughts.

[thethirdromana]

The worst types of cookbook:

The Ottolenghi - it is vital that you use 1g of this very expensive ingredient. It comes from a 500g bag with a one-week shelf life.

The time machine - 15-minute recipe! First, leave to marinate overnight...

The dishwasher - one-pot recipe! Now decant your ingredients and wipe out your pot. And again. And again. And again.

The optimist - cook the onions until caramelised (2 minutes).

The kindergarten teacher - get one nommable little tree of broccoli and bosh that into boiling water. Delish!

The brand names only - ingredients: Ritz crackers, Philadelphia cheese, Cool Whip, orange Jell-o...

The 1950s palate - use one (1) clove of garlic and a small pinch of chili flakes (omit if preferred).

The why bother with a cookbook - to make beans on toast, gently heat a tin of beans and put on top of freshly buttered toast.

[dduane]

I wanted to thank you for how much care you devote to ebooks. Tragically I can no longer comfortably read physical books due to a visual impairment, which means I spend a lot of time with a kindle—and even more time opening-up ebooks and savagely hacking through css files to try and make them work. Too many companies treat ebooks like PDFs, the moment you have to increase the text at all past the default the formatting shatters, not to mention weird paragraph indentations, inaccurate special character coding, or spaghetti code to make a single word tilt in italics. Your formatting is always very neat and clean, your style guide beautifully commentated, its just a pleasure to deal with, and there's never really any changes I need to make anyway to read the text at my embarrassingly-large size. Thank you.

You're so kind to say so! Thanks.

Part of the reason I take this work seriously is because I have the same problem. Until I can afford to get various kinds of fairly expensive eye surgery (whenever that's going to happen...), more and more of my reading is happening on the tablet. So production quality issues for the digital readership are routinely on my mind.

This is why I use Vellum for all the ebook production work I do for the Ebooks Direct store. (In fact this is why I bought my first MacBook: because it was the only laptop that would run Vellum.) It wasn't cheap software, and there are people who feel that there's better, newer (and less expensive) ebook production apps; but I like the results I get with it. Vellum turns out reliable and solidly-coded files without requiring insane amounts of tweaking: which is frankly nice to be able to expect.

Anyway: thanks for the nice words! I'm glad to be getting the job done. :)

[dduane]

In the "Website redesign, Shit No One Wants To Hear" dep't

...So It SEEMS that my website's been compromised by an injection exploit that shows people fake Cloudflare pages that attempt to entice folks into revealing their personal details to scammers. (This exploit is also sometimes due to other people's [Windows] machines being compromised, but that's not an issue here: I need to be cautious.)

(MOAN)

So. I could spend weeks and WEEKS trying to ferret out the single (doubtless very small, indeed probably teensy) injected file responsible for this bullshit. (But this would likely be fruitless, as I've been running the site for a long while on a much-loved but no-longer-supported theme which is almost certainly now inherently insecure. That's on me.) (MOAN x2)

...Or I could do something much smarter (if indeed quite overdue). To wit:

(a) Duplicate/update the old site page by page, by hand (which frankly it's needed for a while), into a new and much more secure WordPress theme. Then:

(b) Pull the entire old website up by the roots and nuke the server from orbit... (but y'all know this drill).

(Also move my "Out of Ambit" blog to its own domain, which has been on my mind for a while.)

(c) Relocate the DDCom domain to a new ISP (which frankly I've had on my mind for months, and only @petermorwood's loss has kept this from being done months ago).

(d) Once the domain is secure there, install the modernized and tidied website atop it, lock it down, and make sure it's clean and correctly hardened.

(e) Run around the house shrieking with relief.

(f) Collapse.

(sigh) And all that would seem to be so simple! But there's a problem.

A huge portfolio file full of images of books (and TV episodes, and films, and comics, and computer games, etc etc.). And meta for the books (etc etc). (And in many cases, NO meta for the books [etc etc]. That's on me as well.)

WHY DID I WRITE ALL THESE BOOKS! [ETC ETC]*

(And anybody who says "Probably it seemed like a good idea at the time" will be thrown out of the [virtual] house forthwith and will get no dessert.)

(headclutch)

The problem with structuring a website like this is that when you have a longish career significant portions of which occurred before the Web and social media really got started, your readerships / viewerships are likely to be very segmented (maybe we'd now say "silo'd") and probably don't know about each other. The Trek readers may know nothing about the YA fiction. The YA readership may not know about the adult SF. The animation viewers may know nothing about the live action TV and miniseries work. The comics readership may know nothing about the computer games. Etc etc. (If I had a nickel for every time I'd heard a variant on "I only knew you wrote [n], I had no idea you also wrote [n+1]!", I'd have, well, a whole lot of nickels.)

So all you can do in the main home website is show everybody all the work, tag it (so it can be filtered by interest) as well as you can... and hope for the best.

Meanwhile, this is just the books... and LOOK at all this shit. And these are just the first twelve. Besides devising the template for the pages that pop up when you click on one of these, this has taken me ALL. FECKING. DAY. For just these.

There are another... (I can hardly bear to count) sort of fifty. ...Or maybe more! I may have missed some. Because, frankly, after fifty novels I kind of stopped counting.

(eyeroll) I can't wait to be done with these. (And then there's the short fiction. And the media properties: the film, the tv, the audio...)

...Argh. I need wine.

And three or four more weeks in July....

(PS, for those curious: all the header fonts are variants of Cormorant: usually Cormorant SC, sometimes [as in the site logo] Cormorant Unicase.)

*And I leave aside the question of "WHEN did I...?" (shaking head) When did I eat? When did I pee? When did Peter and I... (well, okay, never mind that, that's a bit easier to remember.) 😏❤️

[beardedmrbean]

Next up someone is going to claim that the Narnia series isn't kids books.

Kids books is probably not the best way to word it, you can enjoy them at every age, including your childhood, as you get older you may find new truths in them, but they're still good for any age.

[cookingwithroxy]

I want you to understand this. I NEED you to understand this. My mother read me the hobbit as bedtime story, and I started pushing myself to read before pre-school so I could in fact read the hobbit for myself instead of having to wait for bedtime.

I didn't do so right away but jesus wept I PUSHED myself to learn to read SPECIFICALLY so I could read The Hobbit! It is, in fact, a children's story! And children only see page count as 'there is a lot of this fun story to read!'

[escuerzoresucitado]

Pedestrian traffic lights

[sjorsdottir]

Ooooh, we have a bunch of really fancy pedestrian traffic lights in Germany! I need to share:

Starting off with the difference between formerly Eastern German traffic lights (upper images) and formerly Western German traffic lights (lower images):

The city of Erfurt had some additions, like an umbrella or a heart:

Same sex love in Marburg (upper image) and Frankfurt (lower image):

Traffic light lady in Bremen:

Karl Marx light in Trier:

Face of Friedrich Engels in Wuppertal:

Elvis in Friedberg (Hessen):

A sparrow (for the Golden Sparrow film awards) in Gera:

Winemaker in Bad Dürkenheim:

Mainzelmännchen (mascot of the public broadcasting service ZDF) in Mainz:

Otto Waalkes (German Comedian) in Emden:

Town musicians of Bremen in Bremen:

A miner in Pirmasens, Rheinland-Pfalz:

Bishop in Fulda:

Source: Saarbrücker Zeitung

Enjoy!

[translatingpoststogerman]

And we call these "Ampelmännchen" ("traffic lights little man").

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

omg that's amazing! I wanna visit Germany just to take pictures of all the cute traffic lights.

[whosname]

[id. A twitter post by @/Bennieeexyz Jury duty letter came addressed to my cat. Not a mistake. "Felix Martinez" - that's his full name according to his vet records. My last name. His first name. Somehow he's a registered voter now. Called the county clerk. Me: My cat got summoned for jury duty. Clerk: Is the name correct on the summons? Me: Yes, but he's a cat. Clerk: Is Felix Martinez a legal resident of this county? Me: He's a legal cat. Clerk: Sir, if the name matches our records, he needs to appear or file an exemption. Me: He can't file anything. He has paws. Clerk: You can file on his behalf. Me: Under what exemption? There's no box for "is a cat." Clerk: (pause) Check "unable to serve due to medical reasons." Me: What's the medical reason? Clerk: He's a cat. Me: That's not a medical condition. Clerk: It is if it prevents him from serving. Sent in the form. Got rejected two weeks later. "Insufficient documentation. Please provide medical professional's statement." Took the letter to my vet. Me: I need you to write that my cat can't do jury duty. Vet: Why is your cat summoned for jury duty? Me: Excellent question. No good answer. Vet: This is the weirdest request I've gotten. Me: Can you just write that he's medically unfit to serve? Vet: On what grounds? Me: He's a cat. Vet: (started typing) "Patient is unable to serve due to species-related limitations including inability to speak, read, or comprehend legal proceedings." Me: Perfect. Sent it in. Got another rejection. "Summons is mandatory. Failure to appear will result in contempt of court." My roommate thought this was hilarious. Roommate: Felix is going to jail. Me: This is serious. Roommate: Bring him to court. See what happens. Decided that was actually the only option left. Day of jury duty, put Felix in his carrier. Brought the entire paper trail of rejection letters. Checked in at the courthouse. Clerk: Name? Me: Felix Martinez. Clerk: (looked at the cat carrier) Is that Felix? Me: Yes. Clerk: (long stare) He's a cat. Me: I've been saying that for six weeks. Clerk: Why didn't you file an exemption? Me: I filed three. All rejected. Showed her the letters. She read through them, expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. Clerk: Someone rejected the veterinary documentation? Me: Twice. Clerk: (called her supervisor over) You need to see this. Supervisor read everything. Looked at Felix. Looked at me. Supervisor: How did a cat get registered to vote? Me: You tell me. Supervisor: This is a data error. Me: Took you six weeks to figure that out. They dismissed Felix immediately. Apologized for the inconvenience. Supervisor: We'll remove him from the voter registry. Me: Appreciate it. Supervisor: (pause) Out of curiosity, how would he have voted? Me: Probably whatever party supports universal treats. Got a formal apology letter a week later and a voter registration card. For me this time. Apparently I wasn't registered, but my cat was. Roommate: Felix committed voter fraud. Me: Felix committed nothing. He's innocent. Roommate: That's what they all say. Felix is sleeping on the jury summons now. Fitting end to his legal career. end id]

[gailcarriger]

[writingdose]

I am once again begging people to realize that AI checker doesn’t work. it’s never worked. it’s notoriously known to have flagged human-made works as AI and AI-generated works as human-made. and by feeding it people’s works, you are feeding more works to AI, because apparently the machine itself is AI.

the only thing AI checker does is harm genuine artists and people in general too.

[dduane]

KOSA again, with a different name… and they’re trying to sneak it past you before July 4th. CALL YOUR REPS!

The KIDS Act Would Require Age Checks To Get Online

Buried inside the KIDS Act are provisions that will push online services to verify all users’ ages, require government-directed moderation p

Like the man said…the shadow takes another form and ruses again. Time to make some calls and let them know we’re watching.

[dduane]

Just a note for the local crowd

Every now and then a difficult period like this comes along: so it's time to request some assistance.

I've kind of been neglecting my vision for the past year or so, aware that I needed new glasses (and to go have a consult for possible eye-related surgery), but putting it off... and now the situation has, as it were, come home to roost.

The other day, when I was typing something and then (to check it before posting) had to pick up the Mac and hold it up to my nose to see what I'd typed... I realized that if this went on much longer, even with dictation (because after you dictate, you still have to edit...), I wouldn't be able to write.

That would be bad.

I need to go see my Eye Lady, get examined, and get both sets of glasses re-fitted with new prescriptions. This—as usual, each time it needs to be done every year and a half or two years, due to Weird Eyes—is going to run into a low-four-figure-ish kind of money. And due to other recent unexpected medical expenses, right now there's not enough dosh around (or spondoolicks or whatever term you prefer...) to get things sorted.

Therefore: can I get people interested in keeping a writer, you know, writing (as I've got three novels working at once at the moment...), to consider doing one of these things?

(a) Go over to Ebooks Direct and buy a book. (Or a bundle. Or a gift card for somebody else who might like my work.) And if you do: thanks so much!

(b) Stop by my Ko-Fi and drop a little something in the pot. It'll be most appreciated.

Support Diane Duane

Support Diane Duane

And if you can't do either of the above:

(c) Reblog this and let other people see it?

Whatever you do: thanks very much!

[asgreyasacat]

PayPal hates me (because I won't show them my govt ID which is in a different name than they know me by) and I don't have a credit card. If it was iDeal/Wero I'd totally donate!