One of the unfortunate truths about being an author is that one has far less time to read. Crazy, yes? Happily, I’ve discovered that one way I can get my “reading” done is through audiobooks. I’ve always got one or more on the go for walking to and from work, the gym, and while doing housework. It’s one of the few multitasking situations that actually work for me, and I get through at least twice as many books (probably more) than I otherwise could manage.

Here are a few I enjoyed during our S&S summer break:

Karen Marie Moning: Shadowfever (hardcover) And To Tame a Highland Warrior (audiobook) This pairing is especially interesting because everything about these books is so different. The writing style at the end of the Fae series is sharp, short, and almost dry—perfect for the development of the heroine. The Highlander book is just the opposite, and it’s equally perfect. Moning really is a writer for all occasions.

Jeaniene Frost Halfway to the Grave (paperback) This was a reread. I enjoyed it the first time around and maybe even more the second. I have no idea whether anyone else thinks this, but to me her vampire hero, Bones, bears a marked resemblance to Spike in Buffy. Let’s just say you don’t hear me complaining.

Christopher Moore Practical Demonkeeping (audiobook) If you haven’t read Moore and like things slightly weird, he’s a treat. I go for a fix whenever I start taking life a bit too seriously. But don’t let him fool you – there’s often a surprising amount of human truth at the bottom of his bizarre episodes.

Jes Battis A Flash of Hex (paperback) I love this series for a lot of reasons, but a big one is that it’s set in Vancouver and I recognize a lot of the landmarks. It’s also a cut above so many of the books that try to be paranormal police procedurals. The characters are quirky, the crimes icky, and the science imaginative. They’re the sort of books that make Sunday afternoons disappear.

George RR Martin A Game of Thrones (audiobook). What can I say? Pet wolves and swords with names. I’m a happy girl.

When you are a writer in the midst of a project, everything in the wide universe relates to writing. This past weekend I was left in charge of feeding my friend’s two cats. Yes, somehow I managed to make this all about my book because the Work In Progress, as every writer knows, is the very hub of the solar system.

One of these fluffy felines (they’re both built on the dandelion-puff model of fur styling) has the yowl of a sumo wrestler. She also has the fastidious food preferences of a dyspeptic restaurant reviewer. When presented with dinner, she either screeches like I’m attempting murder or turns her back with a sniff of disdain. Yes, thinks I, she’s just like certain individuals posting on book-related web sites. Nothing pleases.

To raise the stakes, my understanding this past Saturday was that the anti-food campaign had been going on for some time. “Great,” I say to myself. “It would just be my luck if Miss Mew keeled over on my watch, accusations of cruel starvation to follow.” I could see my future: All the other cats would be laughing behind their paws as I was carted off in manacles, branded as the Cruella de Ville for kitties.

And hence the gauntlet was thrown down. The wretched furball simply had to give in and eat before I strangled her.

If all else fails, there is bribery. I noted that the rattle of the treat bag perked her right up, so I did the only thing I could think of. I stuck a treat in her food dish, burying some of it beneath the squishy food so she had to eat her way down if she wanted to get it.

She did.

So I stuck another treat in, burying this one a little deeper.

And she ate her way down to this one, too, forgetting herself enough to have a few extra mouthfuls along the way. What seemed to happen, though, was that she easily lost track of what she was doing. Distracted, she’d forget to eat until I rattled the treats, bringing her back to the task at hand. Only as long as I was on the job, tempting her to the next mouthful, would she keep going. But, with us working together, she cleaned her dish for the first time in ages.

When I came back the next day, we carried on with the same routine, and she ate everything again. The secret was that she needed frequent incentives.

Which brings me back to the Work in Progress, as it relates to a bowl of cat food. “Eureka!” I think, jumping up and down. “We writers need to bury treats in every scene! That means action, sexual tension, hooks, story questions and all the thrills and spills we can dream up packed in there thick and fast. Riddle the prose with payoffs galore! Readers will eagerly consume everything in between!”

Which seems obvious now that I say it, but a brain beleaguered by the dreaded WIP is a little dim.

I just hope my prose smells better than raw fish.