November 6, 2009

Bells and whistles

 

This just in from my editor:

I wanted to let you know that we will be doing a blast to all the bookstores promoting FIRE and the new edition of WATER, with the fabulous* new material. That will go out either this week or next.

We will also be doing a Skyscraper ad on PW DAILY that is an email that goes to EVERYBODY in the business – bookstores, librarians, publishers, etc. That will be impossible to miss. That will happen on or around 11/30.

 For all of you who’ve written or posted in bewilderment about the WATER reissue, there’s your answer.  And this is me saying, Whew.  For those of you who haven’t been following the saga, there’s been some slippage between publisher and public both about the fact that the WATER reissue exists and also that it’s been sweetened by a little introductory story that is written by Peter and me.  Yes!  Real live honest to goodness collaboration! **

            So this looks like being sorted at last.  Did I say ‘whew’?  WHEW.   And a nice little burst of publicity for FIRE.

            So YAAAAY.    And more virtual champagne and chocolate to my editor.  If there’s a heroine here, she’s it.            

* * *

 I rang another frelling quarter peal on handbells tonight.  I didn’t mean to ring another quarter peal tonight, on handbells, tower bells, or the skulls of my enemies.  Niall the Slinking Weasel.***  Colin the Slinking Weasel’s conferederate.  And it was another long quarter.  You count ‘lengths’ by number of rows or ‘changes’, which are how often any one bell strikes (since all of them have to strike before any of them strikes again), and the quarter peal length is around 1260—yes, you’re reading that right, one thousand two hundred and sixty flicks of your wrists or yanks on a bell rope†—but ‘compositions’ differ and getting your mathematical pattern†† to bring the bells back into ‘rounds’ again (which is the do ra me fa so la ti do, or do ra me fa so la if you only have six bells, order you begin and end with) may not add up perfectly to 1260.  Sometimes it’s longer.  Tonight we rang 1440—so not only was I had, I was had for 180 changes—which is a short touch’s worth—more than necessary.†††

            What I don’t know—and I don’t know if I want to know—is if Niall is perennially poised, ready to keep making more calls, till either Colin or I break down ‡ . . . or whether he is only occasionally primed to take advantage of an evening when he can keep the rest of us headed in the right direction for a sufficiently extended period.  It is suspicious that both our handbell quarters have been long . . . which is to say that what has happened is that we rang a 720 twice. ‡‡  He could have let us come round at the end of the first 720.  And he didn’t.  I was already thinking that this touch was going on rather, but knew I was in real trouble at one point when the pattern was obviously trying to come out—which may have been the end of the first 720:  I couldn’t tell you—and both Niall and Colin—who as a wily old tower conductor would have caught on to Niall’s nefarious plan—shouted:  Keep going!  

            What if I’d just said no? 

* * *

 * ‘Fabulous’ here is editor-speak for ‘we asked you to give us a little new material for the reissue and bless your pointed little heads you did’.  

** Short collaboration.  And it wasn’t easy.  But what have I told you about our email novel—? 

*** I probably have small furry mammals on the brain because Niall and Penelope have their daughter’s rats visiting while their daughter is on holiday.  Rats.  Hmmm.  Okay, pet rats are different.  I’d forgotten about the small furry guests when—after the quarter—Niall went off to make tea, shouting over his shoulder, if you see a rat, don’t worry, it’s just Desdemona^.  Colin and I exchanged a Startled Look.  A rat?

            But warm furriness wins out with me over mere accidents of nomenclature and reputation^^ so I immediately peeled off to the study where Penelope was attempting to work through the din of handbells and the rustling of rats.  Oh yes, she said, come in, but shut the door, I’m not sure where they are. 

            Oh good.   Rats at large.  I look around nervously.  Colin has followed me but I notice he’s staying very near the door. 

            Penelope gets down on her knees and rattles a little bag of rat treats^^^ and suddenly there are three little pointed whiskery faces peering out from under heaps of shredded somethings.  She picks one up and immediately hands it to me—have I mentioned that Penelope used to be a schoolteacher and does the brisk no-nonsense thing extremely proficiently?—hey, I’ve just rung a quarter peal, am I being had again already?—where it instantly settles down as if being plonked into a pair of shrinking palms is exactly what it wanted, and starts licking my wrist with an infinitesimal pink tongue.  Awwwwwww.^^^^    

            Penelope says that this one is the friendliest of the three and that it will come and pull on her jeans to be picked up while she’s at the computer.^^^^^  They’re Albino Hooded Rats, which makes the gingery markings on their backs somewhat disconcerting, although they have red eyes, and they are also miniature furry beachballs.  Too many yogurt drops and not enough exercise wheel.  But I could see an Albino Hooded Rat.  I’m not sure the hellhounds would be quite such suckers for having their wrists licked however.           

^ Yes, even the rats get aliases on this blog 

^^ Although the hairless tail thing isn’t so great+ 

+ Mustelidae have furry tails 

^^^ No, not cockroach burgers and mouldy whatever.  Yogurt drops. 

^^^^ Okay, I take it back about the tail. 

^^^^^ It’s still licking my wrist.  I notice that Colin is pressed up against the door.  Men are such wusses. 

† A full peal is around 5000 changes.  This is not my idea of a good time. 

†† I could say something about algorithms here if I understood them. 

††† Picture here hellgoddess with head sunk between shoulders, arms crossed emphatically, and fierce scowl on face.  

‡ It has happened that it’s been Niall that’s derailed us, but this is so rare and disturbing an occasion we have to stop and stamp cautiously around on the floor to make sure that this was not the dread herald of some Cthulhuian thing bursting up from the underworld to engulf us all.  Drawn by the sound of misrung handbells.^ 

^ I am a little preoccupied with bursting underworlds because I’ve fallen into an unsavoury habit of collapsing on the sofa with the hellhounds for half an hour or so after their afternoon hurtle.  These half hours have been semi-corresponding with reruns of ANGEL.  There seem to be an awful lot of underworlds bursting forth in ANGEL, and since I’m only watching half hours I never know how any of them end.+  I would, of course, stop this reprehensible habit, except that the hellhounds have now caught on++ that we go lie on the sofa when we come indoors again.  Get Thee Behind Me, TV Remote.  I could be reading the LRB. 

+ Not that the ends of episodes of ANGEL are particularly noted for tidiness and happily ever after, which is one of the reasons I stopped watching it.  I don’t like icky, all right?# 

# But if there was an episode with scary demon-summoning misrung handbells in it I’d watch that.  

++ Dogs learn what they want to learn with breathtaking speed. 

‡‡ And furthermore, last time, Niall promised that when we rang another quarter^ it would be a nice modest 1260 and none of this long-length stuff.  Liar liar pants on fire. 

^ We did what?

November 6, 2009 | Filed Under bell ringing, critters, my books 

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