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Notes from the Labyrinth
Unobtainium and Dragons' Bones
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ws: hamlet
Greetings!

This is the blog of Sarah Monette/Katherine Addison, a professional writer of horror, fantasy, and science fiction. Sarah Monette is my real name; Katherine Addison is a pen name, intended to be transparent.

If you've found me here, odds are pretty good you're looking for something to read, so the following is--to the best of my knowledge--a complete list of everything I've written that's available online:

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writing: glass cat
The End of the Dream: The Golden Boy Who Never Grew Up (Crime Files, #5)The End of the Dream: The Golden Boy Who Never Grew Up by Ann Rule

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


  • The End of the Dream: Scott Scurlock (aka Hollywood), bank robber, Seattle 1992-1996
  • "The Peeping Tom": the murder of Kay Owens, Salem OR, 1971
  • The Girl Who Fell in Love with her Killer": Granite Falls WA, 1973 ("Barbie Linley," 15, was raped, shot three times in the head, and left for dead in a ditch. By some terrible miracle she survived . . . only to fall in love with and marry her rapist/nearly-murderer before his trial.)
  • "An Unlikely Suspect": King County WA, 1974 (the murder of "Vera English" by her 14 year old stepson)

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mfu: ik-phd
I have drawn a map (in MS Paint) of Fox's theory about what happened to Custer's battalion.

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13th-Sep-2016 03:36 pm - Conversations at 5:30
writing: glass cat
UNDERFOOT CAT: OH THANK GOD YOU'RE FINALLY UP.
ME: Good morning to you, too.
CATZILA: we are perishing of starvation
UNDERFOOT CAT: PERISHING UTTERLY.
ME: It's 5:30 in the morning. You have never once in your entire spoiled-rotten little lives been fed at 5:30 in the morning.
UNDERFOOT CAT: I'm sorry, did you not hear me? PERISHING. UTTERLY.
CATZILLA: besides it's lunch-time in Paris
ME: . . . Paris, France?
CATZILLA: le chat est adorable
UNDERFOOT CAT: Q.E.D., dude. Where's our breakfast?
2nd-Sep-2016 04:08 pm - Speaking of the Little Bighorn
writing: glass cat
PURELY BY SERENDIPITY, I happened to pick up a National Geographic in the doctor's office this morning and found this. It is deeply surreal in its own right, but even more so for me because Brigadier General Edward S. Godfrey (a lieutenant in 1876) is notable as a reliable diarist/witness; he's someone I know well enough, historically speaking, to have an opinion about. (He falls into the category of men honorably trying to do their duty to the best of their abilities, and is also notable as being an officer at/near/around the Little Bighorn on June 25, 1876, who actually kept his head.)

I wish they had identifications for any of the Native American men.
cats: nom de plume
UNDERFOOT CAT: [on the bathroom sink] All right, where is it?
ME: [from the other side of the bathroom] It's not over there.
U.C.: Where the hell did it go?
ME: It's over here.
U.C.: Oh don't be ridiculous. How could it have gotten over there? It was right here.
ME: It's a bug. It has wings.
U.C.: [comes over to check] Wings?
ME: Which means you're not going to be able to catch it from the floor, either.
U.C.: [thoroughly put out] Wings is cheating.
(BUG: [from somewhere above our heads] Ha ha!)
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