I Tried, But It Ain’t Gonna Happen

My chapter of Witchfinder won’t go up till Sunday.

Sorry, but yesterday was a rather long day with a flight home that was delayed.  Then when I got home I had to figure out where things were after two and a half weeks absence.  And this morning I had to dye my hair and figure out our schedule for the day (we’re supposed to meet friends for dinner and stuff.)

Also, on the plane, I started going over Witchfinder and doing edits and notes — which will help me remember details pointing at the end.

So… For now, and a day ahead of time, just post in the comments anything you have indie/traditional out recently and/or books you want to promote, even if not yours.  I’ll cobble a post together from it, and perhaps link it via insty tomorrow.

So, have at it.

98 thoughts on “I Tried, But It Ain’t Gonna Happen

  1. You dye your hair? My hair has died.

    Except that portion of it which opts to grow in inconvenient places.

    1. Heh. The hair on my head is losing ground, but the rest of me looks like a Silverback Gorilla. I pitied the poor nurse who had to shave bare patches in it to stick the electrodes on for my stress test several weeks ago.

        1. I never really considered getting “older” until one day when I was about 37, I noticed one o’ my short curlies had given up the ghost, so to speak (or become one, both work). On the downside, having a grey pigtail pube really hammers mortality home with a sledgehammer. On the upside, I got three days of good on-air material out of it.

        2. I, too, was frequently referred to as “a bear”. However, one of the early signs of diabetes they don’t highlight is hair loss, especially on the arms and legs. Between that, and what little hair I have left on other parts of my body (no comments, please!) is either gray or white, it doesn’t fit as much as it once did.

    2. I don’t dye my hair either. I am getting silver (or as my hairdresser calls it Norwegian Arctic Blonde). Since I changed meds, my hair has changed from that muddy brown to a dark blonde –closer to my hair color before I became ill. Sigh… I used to have gold hair (combination of blonde, red, and some brunette). I had girls ask me if I dyed my hair. Nope… I am a natural–

        1. My father’s mother had silver hair in her white. She started out with very dark hair. I was lucky in that I got the silver from her. My mother’s mother had that iron grey (she was a redhead originally).

          1. I started out with the bronze of a new minted penny for hair color, not really red or brown, but shiny and fun, then as a teen I dyed it ebony for years, when I stopped dying it, to my dismay, it had gone the way of my native ancestors and was ebony anyway, now it’s ebony with silver, though thankfully I have not yet enough for the skunk stripe my mother and grandmother sported. (If I get it, I’m going more for the Lily Munster look I think.)

        2. When I was first in college my hair was sable, so black it shone silver in the sun, worn long, down to mid shoulder blade and with nary a split end. The school’s theatre group produced a Restoration comedy (The Country Wife, IIRC) and I was the only one who didn’t need a wig; the make-up/costume gals just put up my hair every night, and cursed how well it took a set.

          These days I have a very high forehead, aka a “moon roof” complicating Driver’s License photos which strain to accommodate the albedo. Sic transit gloria mundi (which, according to the “Lazy Latin” poster in my High School Latin class, roughly means: Gloria was sick on the streetcar Monday.)

          Hair today, gone tomorrow.

      1. Ah, well. My mother dyed her hair from the time she was in her 30s until she finally gave up in her 60s. She said she tried to have them keep the same color she had before, but in her pictures it was always a lot darker when she was younger; a dark, mahogany red.

        1. My mom always told me it was my fault — she had me when she was twenty. I also had Robert at twenty, but I think it’s just genetic.
          As for letting it go white, I don’t know. The problem is when it goes white I look like a grandma. Maybe when I AM a grandma?

          1. Maybe – my mother hasn’t let go of her hair. She still dyes it blonde. I just didn’t want to be like that… plus my skin has really taken a beating from the meds. I decided not to even try streaks… of course my hair streaks naturally when I am in the sun. ARG… but I have really really light skin so I blister.

                  1. My mother’s wound up white, and that worked out ok when she stopped.

                    So white, that my boys called her Q-Tip head (yeah, they’re barbarians, but she just laughed).

            1. Now don’t kill me, but my hair is still mostly the color it was when I was in my teens. Some white on the right temple, and stray white hairs, but not much. I don’t dye, and maybe I will not start if it keeps on graying this slowly.

        2. I unfortunately cannot blame The Daughter for the loss of hair color as it started long before she came along. On the other hand, unlike Daddy’s mother who went a quite dull gray, I took after his Father’s mother and what is coming in is an extremely clear and shiny white.

      2. I started getting silver streaks at age 13 (I earned them). Thus far I’m still copper with silver highlights, but I suspect I’m going to go full-bore stripes like my g-g-mother, alternating silver and copper red. Should be fun. My sibling, however, has major “hair slippage” and curses the fact that baldness runs in the male and female lines of our family.

        1. Last I heard, the genetic locus for baldness was on the X-chromosome, so if a man is bald it is a woman’s fault.

        2. Daddy was strawberry blonde. His second wife said he went strawberry blonder. Now it has become whipped cream.

    3. That’s because men’s hair grows from glands in our feet. When we’re young, it doesn’t have any problem making the climb, but as we age…it just gets tired and starts looking for the closest exit.

        1. CACS – I’ve already done that. I was 5′ 11″ tall when Jean and I got married. Today, I have to arch my feet to reach 5′ 9″ My dad was 5′ 8″ tall when he joined the Army in 1941 (I have a copy of his induction physical), and was 5′ 4″ tall when he died in 1990. Yep, part Hobbit.

          1. I’ve shrunk from 5’7″ to 5’5″ — In my case I blame pregnancy with Robert which both collapsed my arches and did NASTY stuff to my joints because of pre-eclampsia.

            1. I have fun explaining to doctors that the curve in my spine, extends and retracts enough for me to have a height ranging between 5ft 2inchs and 5 ft 7 inches, depending on how well I slept and whether or not I’ve recently been able to pay anyone to beat the life out of me. You’d be amazed at how hard it is to find people to beat you up on purpose.

    4. I’m reminded of the Billy Chrystal line from City Slickers – “I’m losing hair where I want hair and I’m getting hair where there shouldn’t be any.”

      1. Leonard Cohen “My hair is gone, my friends are all gray. I ache in the places where I used to play.” My hair isn’t gone, though I had a scare there two years ago — it seems to be the publishing mess stress was making it fall off (literally) by the handful.

  2. I haven’t done anything in the last ten days on my latest novel, mainly because I developed an infection in my right arm, and it became quite swollen and painful. The antibiotics have now taken hold, and most of the swelling is gone. I spent a bit of time on it last night, and will put quite a bit more into it this evening.

  3. I move that the assembled participants agree to change the name of today’s topic to: TMI

    Is there a second?

      1. Madame Chair, the proposal of a name change having been moved and seconded, I call for a Sense of the Congress resolution that this venue is not a democracy nor a republic, but is and forever more ought to be a dictatorship, with the chair enjoying all privileges and benefits of unchallenged despotism. Further, I propose that all members of this Congress of Commenters be reminded that their participation is at the much-strained sufferance of the Chair.

  4. One question, Sarah – how many chapters do you figure you still need to write for Witchfinder? I haven’t started reading it, I’m not a good reader for the serial form (impatient, if I start I want to find out what happens now, not wait months for it), so I’m waiting until you announce something like ‘last chapter’ or ‘after this, only two chapters’. By the way, please do give advance warning when you are getting close to the ending.

    1. Um… It’s ramping up to the two climaxes. (Don’t ask, lately every book I write does this. It’s driving me nuts. About 10 very short chapters, perhaps… maybe a little more — but I hope to be at a point where I can post a few at a time, because I’d like it to be done with by end Nov.

  5. Up to 56,000 words on my latest work, and I want to be at 60,000 before October 1st. It should come in around 120,000 on the first draft by Christmas(I always end up cutting about 25%).

    My worry recently is that I find myself focusing too much on word count – I need to spend more time planning so that the words in that count make sense. 😉

        1. Marking progress by counting words is like marking education by time spent in school, or ability to love by the notches in the bedpost.

          1. I treat it similar to a job, in that I have a production quota. And sometimes I churn out a bad product, whereby I go back, scrap the bad product, and replace the inventory.

            With me, if I don’t have a daily or weekly goal in writing, I know I won’t get thee, no matter how good the story I have inside proves to be. I can sit around and dream of writing a good book, or I can actually sit down and do it. However, a book all at once seems dauting, so I break it into manageable chunks to help me get from point A to B.

              1. A virus there is, that makes keyboards drop characters at random intervals, insert some at random intervals, and repeat or inver tehm at randm interrvaaals.

            1. So long as you don’t confuse the process of moving from point A to point B with the ultimate product. I find it odd to think of writing as if it were an assembly line job that can be done without any particular concern for the end product, so long as your station does its work.

  6. Well, I was going to post about my books to promote, but since the general topic seems to be hair, I had some highlights put in today, and got a gel manicure…my hands looked like I’d been doing meatgrinding without a pusher-thingie.

      1. ROFL And this is news how?

        Ok. Books. (And thanks for the encouragement, Mr. Cordova sir.)

        Indeed book 4 of the Displaced Detective series is coming out mid-November if all goes according to plan. It is entitled, “The Case of the Cosmological Killer: Endings and Beginnings,” from Twilight Times Books. It is essentially the second part of “The Rendlesham Incident.” My first two stories ended up being too long for a single volume each, hence the double-volume works. Sorry about that, and I can promise that all the rest of the books in the series (and yes, TTB has given the go-ahead on the rest of the series!) will be single-volume works, because I’m already writing them.

        Also coming out in November, I believe on Election Day, will be “A New American Space Plan, by Travis S. Taylor with Stephanie Osborn” from Baen. This is exactly what it sounds like, a discussion of what we’ve done as a species in space, what’s going on now, and where we as a nation SHOULD be going, but aren’t, and who might beat us to the punch. I put together an especially enlightening “history of space exploration” appendix that projects into the future according to the various plans already in place around the world. It’s very telling.

        For those who like poetry, I have an ebook of verse entitled “Stolen Moments” from Chromosphere Press, available on Nook and Kindle. Also available from Chromosphere (and with TTB’s blessing) is the short novella “The Fetish” which is set in the Burnout universe; and the popular science ebooks “Sherlock, Sheilas and the Seven-Percent Solution,” about the effects of cocaine and reasons why Sherlock Holmes may have had ulterior motives in his use; and “The Weather Out There Is Frightful,” about solar and space weather and how it does/could affect you personally.

        Long post, sorry. I’ve been busy.

          1. Bare skin on the dome carries its own crop of concerns, especially if you live in an abnormally high locale such as Colorado. Hats, and what to do with them when you enter an establishment for dining or other activity (although probably not a problem in bordellos, which I presume provide equipment for properly hanging up one’s clothes.) Sun screen, rubbed in where you cannot see. Stubble, razor nicks, pimples, blackheads, whiteheads and all the other ills of the flesh. Sweat just runs off and into your eyes, too.

            Razors pain you;
            Rivers are damp;
            Acids stain you;
            And drugs cause cramp.
            Guns aren’t lawful;
            Nooses give;
            Gas smells awful;
            You might as well live.
            Résumé, Dorothy Parker

            1. Heh. I like that.

              I do find white hairs in my beard but then, I don’t let my beard grow. The red-blonde beard throws people off when they see my darker hair color. Adding white to the mix is just asking for envious stares.

              1. I can’t allow myself to grow a beard. It comes in in seven colors, the majority of which are white or gray. It’s the coal black hairs, the bright, vibrant red ones, and the duller brown and beige that cause problems. My ancestry is on full display in my beard color.

                1. My husband now has white too, but before that he had black, blond, brown and red. This is where Kit’s hair in DST comes from. It was a wink. With Dan it was ONLY his beard, though.

    1. Old is not the issue. My first white showed up in my early twenties. The Spouse’s hair line was in retreat when he was first in college. It has more to do with the genes you are dealt, compounded possibily by some health and medicine issues.

      1. mine showed up at 28. I think — coffs self-deprecatingly — the blazing furnace of our high power intellect burns color and hair off. (Smiles smuggly.) Yep. THAT’s it.

          1. Sometime in my thirties. The red hair went first, which at first made my brown hair look a bit flat and dark. But now the black hairs are going, and what’s left is a very light brown that’s salted with white. Shrug. Don’t know if I”ll dye. My basic laziness and cheapness seems to be beating my unnerved feelings; and it does seem a pity to miss out on life experience.

          2. I had a white hair a couple years ago, and was delighted because it meant I was technically a tortie. (My hair, if you look closely, ranges from dark blond to medium-reddish to dark brown.) Then it fell out and I haven’t had another one since. 😦

            When it all goes white enough, I’m gonna dye it indigo. I was planning on purple, but spouse prefers the bluer shades.

        1. The Spouse (and his father) used to assert that the reason for the hair lose was that the brains kept expanding and pushed the roots out of the way. Whatever.

          1. I am “blessed” with very, very thin hair on top, lots on the sides and back — much like my grandfather. My dad had a full head of hair when he died at 80, but it was snow-white. Mine is light gray to pure white. I complain that my hair is thin because the Air Force made me wear a hat all the time : ^)

  7. On hair, my Dad used to say that God made only so many perfect heads, the rest he gave hair. [Wink]

    My head wasn’t as perfect as Dad’s but my hair is thinning.

    As for “gray hairs”, I don’t have any on my head or in my beard.

    We won’t talk about the white hairs in my beard. [Grin]

    1. One aspect I find irksome is that the white hairs don’t behave at all well. The black hair was all smooth and silky and stayed in place; the white hair twists, curls and stands up in highly disconcerting ways.

  8. First white hair at 21. Still mostly brown, but with enough white in the front that I dye it. And grouse about the color, and swear I’ll never dye again. Until the next time. And now I’m trying to grow it all out long, and, well, this was not one of my better ideas.

          1. #1 son got blonde hair that gets curly when it’s longer than his shoulders. Naturally, his mother hates him for it. Her poor hair is too baby-fine to hold any set that anyone puts in it. Even plastering it down with hair spray doesn’t hold very long.

  9. As my dad used to say, a couple of his brothers could wax their heads when they graduated high school. Several of my cousins weren’t much better. Luckily I inherited my hair from my moms side, so while I don’t have to have it thinned before it is cut (if I wanted something other than a buzzcut, which is unusual for me) like I did in high school, it is still as thick as a normal persons hair, and though I have seen a few silver hairs at my temple the last year of so, there is not really enough to notice yet. Unluckily I inherited my hair from my mothers side, it is the kind of hair that all the women who don’t have oh and ah about and say they wish they had hair like that, but I notice half the women, and all the men who have it, keep it cut very short, because there just isn’t much you can do with it. Grown out it is spiral curls and looks like I got a perm, so military length it is. 😉 Although in the winter I spend a lot of time outside, so I do grow the back out then, to keep my neck warm. (Yes, yes, I have a seasonal mullet, you can quit laughing now …. seriously, you can)

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