Newsletter: Late October...2020 Was Many Things...

 

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2020 was many things... Some we expected, some took us utterly by surprise. Some quickly passed -- and others we are still grappling with. Now that I've had a chance to settle back home after being evacuated for a month due to the California CZULightning wildfires, I am filled with gratitude for the friends, readers, neighbors, family, and strangers who were so unfailingly kind and supportive.  As the season turns from summer's brutal heat toward winter's equally brutal (think mudslides!) but different weather, I am personally focusing on what has sustained my family and myself through the ordeal that has been this year. You, my fans and friends. My wonderful editor and publisher and agent. The beautiful (if a bit singed) place in which I love. And especially the stories that fill my mind and my life. Those I write. Those I treasure by other writers. Many thanks! Deborah First things first: Here is (Red) Sonja smooshed against Shakir. Considering that the first time they were introduced, she a mere wee kitten, she threw herself on her back and screamed, I'd say they have established trust, if not outright affection for one another.

What's new on Darkover?   My agent once told me that waiting on publishers was akin to watching the movement of glaciers. I suspect this has never been more true than now, when my publisher's offices are closed due to the pandemic, and everyone is overloaded. In the meanwhile, here is a snippet from The Laran Gambit, in which Bryn, our viewpoint character, crashes on Darkover with her father and mentor. The title is a working version and will probably be changed. And this is unedited text, so it, too, may undergo the alchemical transformation of editing.   ~~~~~~~ Bryn forced herself to lay back down and breathe slowly. It was harder than she expected. She imagined the inside of the tent — their pocket of air — turning stale. What were the symptoms of anoxia? She couldn’t remember — didn’t that mean her brain was deprived of oxygen? A part of her, that terrified monkey at the back of her brain, yammered at her to get out now. Panic will only use up the air faster. Think! Somewhat to her surprise, she found herself calming. The moment she eased away from panic, she realized that her danger-sense, while humming away, wasn’t urgent. Not yet, anyway. She still had time to assess the situation, time to plan. Well then: she wasn’t dead. Or badly injured. Or gasping for breath. She wasn’t in the dark, so the snow must be shallow enough for light to penetrate. She also wasn’t alone. Her father knew about survival in cold weather. Felicity had a keen analytical mind. Together, they could surely reason out how to proceed. As if in answer to her thoughts, the two older people began to stir. Ernst started thrashing, mumbling incoherently. Bryn rolled over and shook him. With an explosive, “What!” he came awake. “Father, it’s all right. I’m here.” “I — this can’t be right. Where are we? What’s going on?” “We’re on Darkover — Cottman IV, don’t you remember?” He poked the sagging roof of the tent. “What is this thing? It’s cold!” Read More (this will take you to the same newsletter with the entire chapter excerpt, so don't worry about the duplicated sections!)   Here's part II of my video chat with Marella Sands. I talk about recent and current Darkover projects, editing, the writing life, inspiration, and whatever else popped into my head. The season of gift-giving will soon be upon us. The next newsletter will include free or low-cost goodies for your loved ones (and yourself!)