Documents of Tabat: The Markets of Tabat

Beside all the convulsions of moving and prep for travel, I’m doing the usual writing (working on a YA novel and have a slew of stories I’ve been asked for), but I’m also working on a nonfiction project of a type I never thought I’d work on: a cookbook, which I’m co-editing with Fran Wilde.

It’s a SFWA project, and I’m excited about it for a number of reasons.

1. It’s following in a SFWA tradition. There were two previous cookbooks, both edited by Anne McCaffrey, Cooking Out of This World and Serve it Forth.
2. Next year is SFWA’s 50th anniversary, so this will be part of the celebration. Accordingly, it’s a party-themed cookbook with sections on savory snacks, sweet snacks, alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, and dishes to take to potlucks.
3. It’s a (hopefully) noncontentious effort that celebrates SFWA’s community, a community which is for me one of the benefits of being a member.
4. It’s a great chance for me to touch base with a lot of fellow members. I’m fairly certain I’m SFWA’s next vice-president (barring the event of a successful write-in campaign for Randall Garrett) and it’s wonderful to have a reason to interact with them other than problem-solving. I’ve been contacting a few members in advance (there will be a general solicitation to the members next month) and it’s been a lot of fun seeing some illustrious names in my inbox. I’ve talked to a few who I didn’t know had left, and I hope that maybe it’ll persuade some to give the organization another chance.
5. We get to test a lot of very interesting recipes.
6. As with so many SFWA projects, I’m learning a lot in the process.
7. Who doesn’t like a party?
8. It’s a chance to share my Welsh rarebit recipe with the world. 😉

We’ve got a lot of cool plans that will be revealed over the coming months, so stay tuned.

(Honestly, I have no idea what this thing’s title is anymore. But I’ve been working on the beginning today. Some of you will recognize the pov character as the gladiator Bella Kanto, although this is the first time I’ve tried first person with her. I like it. Anyhow, here you go.)

A blade straight through the air. Sidelong, slicing the snowy air in half.

Roll back on the heels, keeping the spine straight. Distance doesn’t matter, as long as steel isn’t colliding with eyeball, even if it’s close enough to brush an eyelash free.

Step step back, shift weight inside that left greave. Use the little shield, shaped like a snowflake, just as intricate. So easy to snag a blade with it, but I have to be careful with that, The shield’s just as prone to being broken as breaking, maybe even more if the blade were thick. I’ve done that more than once, Last year it snapped lucky, sent a blade flying up into Spring’s face, almost put her eye out, left a nasty gash the width of my little finger away from the orb.

Snow crunch underfoot from the still falling snow. My day, solid winter. The season of my power. The reason I wear Winter’s armor, crystal and steel against Spring’s gaudier garb, all spring blossoms in yellow and pink and blue. Like fighting a flowerbed.

No wonder I’d won for the last twenty-four years against that gaudy thing, no matter who inhabited it each year. Winter’s lines were clear and sharp and swift. The floral armor was heavier, with its lines of gold mesh over the pearly surface.

Click click click, blades testing each other. Meanwhile my arm comes out, rotates just a little to snare her swordpoint, swivels and snaps back in place, while my blade pushes forward at the same time. Don’t give her a moment to breathe, no time to think, press in fierce and hot and ardent as a yearling bull.

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