August 16, 2013

Okay, thanks


Dhudson wrote:

Dear Robin,
Yes, I read KES, often. Please do not even think of NOT posting them. It would be tragic.
Thank you !

I like the direct approach.

Fine.  I’ll stop thinking about it.  Listen, everyone, and especially everyone who was kind enough to post a comment last night, while I love reading comments* I really wasn’t trying to make anyone feel guilty.  You don’t have to post comments!**  It’s not required!  I’m not sending out large muscular persons with whips and chains to remonstrate with those of you who don’t!  I just need to know occasionally that I’m not talking to myself here.***  And KES, being a New Thing and fiction† is a special case.  Especially, as I say, because I want to go on writing her, and am intrigued, and sometimes whapped up longside the head, by the different sort of freedoms and restrictions of doing it here.


Yes, yes, yes, I’m DEFINITELY still reading Kes. . . .I tend to save the Saturday night blog for a moment that I need a treat.  


Always before the next one comes out, but sometimes on Monday or some other, less-generally-good-than-Saturday day. When I found this blog five or six years ago (I have read every single entry since then),

::Beams more::

I remember thinking, “It’s a little bit like a short story from my favorite author every day.” And Kes actually is.

::Is now feeling her face cracking from all the beaming::

I don’t say much very often . . .  but I’m always reading and [KES is] my favorite.



I *love* Kes!!! I don’t always comment, because “Oh, yay! I’m so happy she’s remembering to buy the milk for the hob!” and “Sigh… I adore Sid so much… I can’t wait to see more of her!” don’t make very interesting forum posts. But I get excited every Saturday night!

Well I find comments like that interesting.  Just sayin’.


Oh please do not stop writing/posting Kes’ story! My dog & I would be devastated not to know how their story goes on!

Not to worry.  At worst I’ll make you pay.

But I’m lazy,

You are not lazy!  YOU ARE NOT LAZY!  None of you people apologising for not posting comments is lazy!  I just need to know you’re READING!

But whatever the reason, please, from one sighthound fan to another–please don’t take away a story where the sighthound is shaping up to be actually heroic. . . .

Yup.  Definite heroism in future.  Heh heh heh.  ::evil author laughter::

(She wants to be Sid almost as much as I want to be Kes.)

Queue forms to the right.  AND I’M FIRST.


Yes, still reading Kes. I would happily pay for installments, whether on an on-going basis, or gathered up tidily every now and then and put between covers.

I’m told by wiser internet junkies than myself that making people pay for stuff on line mostly doesn’t work very well because so many users expect on line content to be free.  I don’t know.  I would have thought that you get six free eps, say, and then sign up or not.  But the current semi-plan is to sweep Part One together with a little Additional Material, and produce some kind of hard copy version for some kind of money.  And—thank you.


Yes, we’re reading, we’re reading! Please don’t stop!

Not stopping!  Not stopping!

I’m also hoping that you’ll find a way to moneytize this,

Thank you!  Me too!

through print-on-demand once it’s done or some such. I’d like to support this, and you don’t have a tip jar.

A virtual tip jar.  Snork.  I like it.


Ack. No, no, don’t stop KES! I anxiously await each week’s KES installment with bated breath. Truly. Any lack of commentary on my part is simply because I loathe waiting and getting any story in teeny dribbles that I have no control over makes me want to gnash my teeth and go buy expensive yarn (along the lines of the whole “I knit so I don’t kill people” thing).

Hee hee hee hee.  Yes, I’ve noticed I kill far fewer people now I’m knitting.  And what’s a little light puncturing among friends?

I don’t blame you for this, oh, no.

Of course not.  You’re obviously a calm, fair-minded person.

I admire your calculating writer tactics that keep me panting for more. But I don’t have to be happy about it.

No.  Just keep reading.

I will endeavor to comment more (but please don’t ban me if said commentary – in the heat of the moment directly following the reading of the week’s episode – happens to contain somewhat snarky remarks about conniving parsimonious authors who refuse to satisfy my desire for instant gratification ARGH).

Well if it’s any comfort, remember I’m only a few eps ahead of you, and worrying about what happens next.  Fortunately something always does.  So far.  But from where I’m sitting the story  unrolls into the hazy distance very satisfactorily energetically.  Pity about the ‘hazy’ however.  I would like to get more sleep.


Stop Kes? Get rid of Kes? NO, NO, NO, NO, PLEASE NO!

Okay!  Okay!

I don’t comment because it’s boring to read the same comment every week: “Loved it. Can’t wait for the next installment.”

That’s an excellent comment.  That’s the best possible comment.

My only complaint? They’re too short. **grumpily** Congratulations on success in writing short.

SNORK.  And on that happy note, I will end tonight, since it is getting late and I need to have a run at getting up early because I will have to get up early Saturday to go bell ringing.  Also something very exciting is happening in KES right now and I might write a sentence or two more of it before I go to bed. . . . Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha.


* * *

* Except of course when they make me scream with inarticulate fury.  Fortunately this doesn’t happen too often.  Most of you are very well behaved.  Thank you. My email inbox holds far more horrors.  I DO NOT UNDERSTAND how people can briskly negotiate all the obstacles set up to STOP THEM from BLINDLY attacking me with questions answered in my FAQ.  DO YOUR HOMEWORK, PEOPLE.  Every drogflamming week I get requests for ‘tips about writing’.  ARRRRRGH.  Part of the surrealism of this is that the tips-for-writing requests are often in letters that looked—up till that moment—polite and low-profile.  I know you’re busy, they say.  I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoy your books.  OH AND CAN YOU GIVE ME SOME TIPS ABOUT WRITING FICTION.  It’s been a long time since I was first learning to tell stories on paper—you never finish learning—but I keep feeling that there’s a major disconnect going on in these tip-requesting people’s minds.  Aside from an inability to read sentences like PLEASE LOOK AT THE FAQ BEFORE YOU EMAIL ME YOUR QUESTIONS.  No, the disconnect I’m thinking of is:  they’ve acknowledged that I’m busy.  Writing stories, presumably.  And hurtling, ringing, singing, gardening, knitting, doodling, reading, eating chocolate and being driven mad by technology^ if they read the blog.  They also wouldn’t be asking for tips if they hadn’t already discovered that writing is hard.  Are they really expecting a rabbit^^ out of a hat?  What on earth or orbiting Betelgeuse are they expecting me to be able to say in the twenty words or less I might have time for?

^ So Raphael came back today.  After he left, the laptop refused to close down, the iPad turned its volume off and wiped the saved-sites bar on the opening page of Safari, and Dove, the book of bell towers, froze and refused to open on Pooka.^^^  And because the letters have worn off the keys of my desktop and because frelling frelling FRELLING iTunes doesn’t flash the letters at you briefly I managed to put my password in wrong and had to change it which means THAT EVERY APP I OPEN NOW WANTS ME TO PUT MY PASSWORD IN AGAIN.  And again.  And again.  One of my current word-game addictions has to have GAME CENTRAL!!!! disabled every time I open the wretched thing.  EVERY.  TIME.  ARRRRRRRRRGH.

^^ Or a £1,000,000 advance

^^^ Theoretically I’m going on a tower outing Saturday.  Theoretically.  And the iPhone is the only one of my instruments of destruction that has travelling internet connection.  Also with me in Wolfgang will be a fifty-year-old Ordinance Survey map+ on the really quite reasonable grounds that bell towers tend to be on older churches and village back lanes haven’t changed that much, a five-year-old road atlas, and a print-out of Albert’s directions.  No, I haven’t chosen my SatNav yet which means Peter hasn’t bought it yet.

+ I can hear Peter protesting tomorrow that it isn’t more than . . . thirty years old.  Well, I’m pretty sure it was one of the ones looking a little worn when I moved over here twenty-two years ago.  I was fascinated by the OS and pored over a lot of the relatively local maps—or anywhere we were going all over the UK—in the early days, before I had 500 rose-bushes and subscriptions to 4712 magazines.

** Anne_d, if you want to be grumpy and lumpy and uncommunicative, you go girl!  I spend most of my life grumpy and lumpy and uncommunicative—ask most of the people who know me in real time—it’s just that I am A WRITER and have a particular set of writerly smoke and mirrors available for blogging.  Including KES.

*** I talk to myself everywhere else.  Why not online?

Officially fiction, as opposed to my life, which often feels like fiction.  I mean, I wish.

†† I’m going to try not to get distracted and answer a few more of last night’s comments, since there are one or two further points I want to make. . . .


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