greygirlbeast: (Default)
Listening to the new Tom Waits, and so a big thank you to Steven Lubold ([livejournal.com profile] oldfossil59) 'Cause this one rocks, even for Mr. Waits, and the 40-page book that comes with the deluxe edition is sublime.

But I slept eight hours, and I am not awake. Six hours, that's not enough, but I come awake fast, then feel like shit. Seven hours is perfect. Eight hours, a good lot of sleep, but then I can't wake the hell up. And I wish I could recall last night's (this morning's dreams) as they were odd and seem dimly important. Probably just the end of the world again.

I get ahead of myself. Or behind myself. Whichever. Yesterday, we read chapters Three and Four of Blood Oranges, so we're more than halfway through the ms. Kermit continues to prove useful in text editing, so maybe I haven't made a bad decision, keeping the iPad. I gotta post a photo of me and the Dubious Kermit Tech. But not today. Anyway, unless the MiBs call me to attention today and there's alien retroengineering to be done, we'll be reading chapters Five and Six. There are only Eight chapters to Blood Ornages. Only 70,000 words (my novels are usually well over 100k). So, we'll be done editing (id est, correcting typos and continuity errors) by Sunday evening, and my agent will have the ms. on Monday, when she gets home from the World Fantasy Convention in misbegotten and woebegone San Diego. No, as I keep telling people, I won't be there. If The Ammonite Violin & Others should win a WFA, Elizabeth Bear ([livejournal.com profile] matociquala) will be accepting on my behalf. I do not spend a thousand or so dollars to fly to southern California and risk getting felt up and fisted by the motherfucking TSA for any con.

Speaking of short story collections, I have the cover art by Lee Moyer for Confessions of Five-Chambered Heart (Subterranean Press, 2012). And here it is, behind the cut, based somewhat on "Dancing with the Eight of Swords" (Sirenia Digest #36, November 2008):

Guard Your Heart, No Matter the Chambers Therein )


And if you ordered directly from subpress, but you've not yet received your copy of Two Worlds and In Between, hang in there. Be patient. It's coming. To quote Arcade Fire, "We used to wait." I haven't even received all my comp copies yet.

Oh, but the weather has gone to shit and looks like it's gonna stay there a spell. We were so lucky with the shoot for The Drowning Girl: A Memoir and Stills from a Movie That Never Existed. We're in wet Rhode Island October now. Cold and wet, just in time for Samhain and Hallowe'en. If we'd have had to wait one more week, the weather would definitely have been too shitty for our needs. Cutting it close and all.

By the way, the cover art for The Drowning Girl: A Memoir is now up at Amazon.com (follow that link). But the text on the cover isn't final. Not sure why they put it up before we finalized that, but there you go. There's no fathoming the minds of Big New York Publishers. And yes, Penguin did a cover THAT I ACTUALLY LIKE, a lot. There's even a nod to The Red Tree in there. I'm taking that lone oak leaf as a belated apology for the gods-awful mess they made of The Red Tree's cover (which featured a poplar tree, by the way). Anyway, I'll post the cover here when they get the text corrected.

Last night, some good RP in Insilico, then a tad of RIFT before bed. I read more of "About Ed Ricketts" to Spooky.

Only Somewhat Disappointed Today,
Aunt Beast
greygirlbeast: (Ellen Ripley 1)
See, it's not insomnia when you just stay up too late reading. No. It's not. That's called stupid. And so now I'm not awake, and I'm having to augment my sugar-free Red Bull by listening to Hubero going on about Sméagol freaking him out with carrot cards and a squeegee board. Funny cats are no fit substitute for sleep.

Currently, I'm being horrified by a new "texting" acronym: LMBO. Which is apparently what the Jesus has instructed good Xtians, fans of the Jonas Brothers, and devotees of Stephenie Meyer to use instead of LMAO. Because it's more wholesome to say "butt" than to say "ass." Really, people. What the fuck was wrong with "haha"? It's just as easy to "text" as LMAO. Four letters. Actually, it's easier to type than LMAO, because of the QWERTY keyboard layout. Also, it's logical. "Haha" isn't an acronym. It's an example of onomatopoeic language. Do not badly reinvent the wheel, people. That's why we have the Microsoft Corporation.

Yesterday was a symphony of...well, not dull. Actually, anything but dull. Exhausting, though, and vexing. I am now working on so many different projects at once, switching gears throws out my back about once a day. Or throws out my brain. Or whatever. Yesterday, after the blog entry, and after I brushed my teeth, and answered email, after all that, I had to send electronic files of the Authors Note and Author's Biography from The Drowning Girl: A Memoir to Penguin, because...let's not go there. I think people are forgetting how to retype. It all began with James Watt in 1779, unless it began with Johannes Gutenberg's printing press in 1436, unless it actually began with Bi Sheng in China in 1040, ol' Bi Sheng and his porcelain movable type. Wow. There's nine hundred and seventy-one years of laziness. And a huge digression.

I was saying, yesterday, after the files were sent to my editor at Penguin, I got back to my work on XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX (guys, the TRUTH is out there, and it will be revealed in late November or early December, I am told, and we all have to sit tight until then). After that I was greeted by a mammoth email from my editor at Penguin, who needed clarification of several illegible comments I'd written on the CEM for The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, illegible because the Lamictal (which I take for the seizures) makes my hands shake so badly. And that meant comparing my photostat (back to xeros + graphus) with her notes and...it took awhile, and a lot of patience on the part of the vocally reluctant (but ever helpful) Spooky. Then we had spaghetti. Then we proofread "John Four" for the first time since September 24, 2010 (I finished writing it on September 22, 2010), which is being reprinted in S. T. Joshi's A Mountain Walked: Great Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos, to be released in limited and trade editions in 2012 by Centipede Press (and maybe I wasn't suppose to announce that yet, but there you go). That was work yesterday, leaving out a few victuals and bits of flayed skin.

"John Four" is one of my best and strangest Lovecraftian stories, and I'm pleased to see it will be reprinted in such a good home.

Oh, and my comp copies of Stephen Jones The Book of Horror arrived, which reprints my story, "Charcloth, Firesteel, and Flint."

Last night, some very good RP in Insilico, and two episodes of Mad Men, and then, even though I was in bed by two-thirty ayem, I was awake until three forty-five, reading this, that, and the other. Included were two more stories from the Halloween anthology, Sarah Langan's "The Great Pumpkin Arrives at Last" and "The Sticks" by Charlee Jacob. The former is, at best, so-so. It relies too heavily on a somewhat unconvincing "twist ending." The latter, though, was quite effective, a story reminiscent of Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery," though only in its most basic premise. I will admit, I'm uncomfortable talking about other authors' stories here, but there's a long tradition of authors commentating on authors, and if I'm going to read the damned things, I can at least be honest.

Spooky's no-longer-premature Hallowe'en Sale (!!!) in her Etsy shop, Dreaming Squid Dollworks and Sundries—20% off on everything—continues. Only one necklace and a bracelet left (plus paintings and other cool stuff), and who knows when she'll have time to make more. When making a purchase, IF YOU WANT THE SALE PRICE, you need to, at checkout, use the sale code SPOOK.

By the way, this is the one year anniversary of our return to Providence from Portland, Oregon. One year ago last night, we spent the whole night awake in the almost entirely deserted Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport. Then...well, hell ensued. Anyway, here is a token from that night, which I may auction someday on eBay. It's companion, the shortest novel I ever wrote on a napkin, was auctioned last autumn.

The Napkin of Caribou )
greygirlbeast: (Walter1)
A blustery, cold day today. The sky is that shade of blue. Better I be in here, though I want to be out there. But, tomorrow I will be leaving the House for an autumn foliage excursion to parts north. I only hope that this wind has left a few leaves on the trees.

I find it hard to sleep on windy nights. I always find it hard to sleep, but the sound of wind has always made me restless. I've always been this way, all my life. The wind's fine so long as I'm Outside.

Yesterday was not so much productive as the other thing. Then again, it wasn't entirely counterproductive. Perhaps it was only frustrating. Having set aside "There Will Be Kisses For Us All," I need a couple of good ideas for vignettes to write for Sirenia Digest #59. And it seemed reasonable to do some editing for Two Worlds and In Between while I tried to think of stuff. I did a little layout on the manuscript, and then I read "Persephone" and "Two Worlds and In Between." And I could not resist editing and rewriting on both. I tried. I truly tried. "Two Worlds and In Between" was easier on me than getting through "Persephone." But both now have a couple of hundred red marks each. I'm not yet sure whether I'm actually going to make the edits. I'm tempted to yank both stories, because, truthfully, in 1993 and early '94 I was still just figuring out what it was I was trying to do. I read until dark, and it left me shaken and confused. Do these stories belong in a "best of" collection? They're an honest look back at the beginning, that's true, but they are surely not my best. They are, I suppose, the best I was capable of seventeen years ago.

Anyway, besides email and a phone meeting regarding the Secret, that was yesterday. Oh, and I had to sign the income tax forms, and send away more than thousand dollars to help fund wars against countries that have done me no wrong. And Sméagol has some odd ailment of his right nostril, and Spooky has to take him to the vet today. So...money flying out the window. Even though the windows are shut. Money flies, regardless. So, my great thanks to everyone who bid on the recent round of eBay auctions, and especially to the winner of the "napovel." I was stunned, genuinely stunned, at what it went for. I really do kind of love you guys.

Slowly, I'm trying to clean and bring order to my office.

Last night, we watched the new episodes of Fringe and Project Runway. And then I played CoX late into the night, or early into the morning, or both.

I have what I think is the final set of photos from the HPLFF trip. It's a random lot, stuff I probably should have included elsewhere, but didn't. Ergo, there's a legend for each one. They date from September 30th through October 4th. My mind is very, very scattered. I think the festival was so marvelous that it's left me off balance. Again, I say, I don't know how authors who travel for writerly travel ever manage to get anything written.

H. P. Lovecraft Film Festival, Part the Last, Part 9 )


I am very annoyed there's no photo of me with S. T. Joshi and Wilum Pugmire. Finally meeting Wilum in person was one of the high points of the festival.
greygirlbeast: (Default)
1. A blustery day after a rainy night, just like A.A. Milne might have ordered. But there's more rain on the way. At the moment, it's 55F and the wind's 19mph, gusting to 30 mph. There is a wind advisory in effect.

2. Please note that a number of the current eBay auctions will be ending this afternoon (one or two probably before I post this entry). Most notably, the "napovel" auction ends in 3 hours and 25 minutes. Thanks to everyone who has bid and might yet.

3. I spent yesterday working on "There Will Be Kisses For Us All." I wrote a measly 151 words, over several hours, and finally, again, admitted defeat and shelved the story. This makes twice for this particular story. Last time, two years ago, I couldn't quite find the story in the story. This time, I found the story, but was overwhelmed by everything that needed to go into the story to make it authentic, a hundred details I've been sorting through. And, as Spooky noted, it was threatening to become a full-blown short story, when I only have time to write two vignettes for Sirenia Digest #59. So, with much regret, I put this story away again, and will come back to it at some future date (I promise).

There was a suggestion from a reader yesterday, regarding the possible identity of the Englishman in "Dracula's Guest," who is usually assumed to be Johnathan Harker. [livejournal.com profile] papersteven writes: Am I mistaken that, in the novel, Renfield, before his stay in the sanatorium, had traveled to Castle Dracula? I may be thinking only of the back-story provided in Herzog's remake of Nosferatu, but I always thought it plausible that the Englishman in "Dracula's Guest" was Renfield.

Doesn't work. Renfield as an estate agent was an element introduced in various stage and screen adaptations of the stories. Tod Browning (1931) has Renfield go to Transylvania instead of Harker, for example, and Francis Ford Coppola (1992) presents Renfield as the agent who went to Castle Dracula prior to Harker, and returned insane. But in the novel, Renfield is a patient in Seward's sanitarium, first mentioned in a May 25th diary entry, and not an estate agent.

4. Also, [livejournal.com profile] kaz_mahoney asked of "Pickman's Other Model": Was that in an older Digest? I'm assuming so, as it has a VL illustraion. I keep thinking about that story... When you first wrote it, was it ever a potential novel-length project? I can see that, somehow.

Yes. "Pickman's Other Model" first appeared in Sirenia Digest #28 (March 2008). Can I see it as a novel? Yes, I could. Easily. Will I ever write that longer story it could be? Maybe, who knows. The problem is, of course, that I have very many short stories that could be novels (and vignettes that could be short stories, for that matter).

5. Yesterday, my new keyboard arrived. It was a gift from Jada, so thank you, Jada! Since April 2007, I've been writing on the keyboard that came with my iMac. But it was a bad design, always had sticky keys (that had become very, very sticky), and, because of the design (set into a clear plastic tray) it easily became filthy and was hard as hell to clean. The new keyboard, also an Apple keyboard, is a sleek brushed aluminum affair, and the keys require the application of only the lightest touch. The old keyboard, with which I wrote many, many stories, as well as The Red Tree (and Beowulf, too, but I'm trying to forget that ever happened), will be packed away now.

6. [livejournal.com profile] readingthedark arrived about 7:15 last night, and we got sandwiches from Fellini's, and spent the evening in conversation, about this and that and everything else. I can't begin to remember it all. I read him my introduction for Two Worlds and In Between, about which I was becoming very skittish, and he assured me it's fine (as Spooky had done). At some point, Kathryn called us to her laptop, to see a Second Life Innsmouth sim. There's not much good left that one can say about Second Life. It has become a stagnant backwater. But this sim is a beautiful, beautiful build. You can pose in the arms of a deep one out on Devil's Reef. I recommend you see it before it goes away (all good things on SL go away fairly quickly). The sim is named Innsmouth, so it's easy to find. She'd also downloaded the free Lord of the Rings Online trial (née Middle Earth Online), and we were all rather disgusted with it. Lousy graphics. I mean, sure, it would have looked good in 2002 or 2003. Now...it hardly looks as good as Morrowind looked. All in all, it feels like a WoW knockoff, but with graphics far inferior to WoW. I was very disappointed (though I never would have played anyway, since there's never going to be a Mac version). This is frakkin' Tolkien, people, and you get it right or you leave it the hell alone. Anyway, Geoffrey left a little after 2 a.m., and headed back to Massachusetts and Framingham.

7. And here's another set of photographs from the Portland/HPLFF trip. I hope no one's growing weary of this visual travelogue. I just want to get a goodly portion of it down in the journal, to look back upon in years to come. These are photos taken on our last day in Portland (Monday, October 4th), and in the air, and at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport before we learned the flight to Providence had been canceled:

H.P. Lovecraft, Part 8 )
greygirlbeast: (Default)
I'm home. I have been since about noon. But I am only just barely awake, or even alive, I think. Yesterday, about seven p.m, shortly after we arrived in Minneapolis, for our connecting flight to Providence, said connecting flight was canceled. And we were cheerfully informed there would not be another flight until Tuesday morning. Yeah, Delta gave up a voucher for a Days Inn somewhere in the middle of god's left ballsack, and I suppose that was very nice of them. But we opted to spend the evening wandering about the airport...mostly alone. Not sleeping. On towards two a.m., the place took on a surreal tint. Everything in the airport closed up by ten p.m., which came as a surprise to me.

"Zombies don't need airplanes!"

"Empty airports late at night are like Radiohead videos."

Yes, it was like that. Also, I wrote a scenario for a short film titled, "Mother Hydra Triptych," and also wrote The Shortest Novel Ever on a Caribou Coffee napkin. I did not, however sleep. No, not Spooky, either. She read aloud to me "The Colour Out of Space" and "The Shunned House" (I'd just read the former to myself a few days before, but whatever).

We discovered a kindly robot that peed coffee (though we did have to pay it).

We caught a flight to Detroit at dawn, and then flew into Providence on something made from balsa wood and rubber bands. Every part of my body hurts. Since making it back to the House, I've wrestled with a mountain of email, slept three hours, and eaten two slices of pizza.

The HPLFF was brilliant, and wonderful, and cool, and I loved it so much I won't call it the best convention I've ever done, because I hate conventions, and to call it one would be an insult. Tomorrow, if I live that long, I'll be posting a long, long thank you list. And the first set of about five-hundred photographs.

Iä! Iä! Booya! (ouch)
greygirlbeast: (mirror2)
It's not bad outside. Rainy. Clouds to hide the indecent blue sky. And the temperature is supposed to soar almost to 70F. Unfortunately, this means the rest of the week will be cold and clear. So, I'll take what I can from today and hold it until the warmth returns again. Ena sn'ial.

I have Jethro Tull cranked up today, trying to keep this whole winter thing at bay.

Also, I ditched Firefox this a.m. It was just entirely too buggy to endure. Spooky's using an earlier version, which seems to work better. That makes sense. Isn't their some law of software about the inverse relationship between "improvements" and function? If not, there ought to be. Anyway, now I'm back on Safari, which seems like an old friend after wrestling with Firefox for a couple of weeks.

The writing went well enough yesterday. I did 1,005 words on the twelfth section, but didn't reach it's conclusion. I'll do that today, and hopefully get the thirteenth section written, as well. "Bainbridge" will probably have fourteen sections, total. To date, the story's 12,949 words long, which comes to 58 double-spaced typed pages. I suppose that it's edging into "novella" territory. I know that I need it to be finished. At this point, I've spent something like 18 days with this story. Even if there wasn't other work that needed doing, I'd be looking for the door marked "exit." I desperately need to be done with it. So much of me has gone into this one. In some ways, it's been like going back and revisiting an earlier me, since it was an earlier me who birthed Dancy Flammarion, but, in other ways which will no doubt be very obvious to the informed reader, this story is going to draw attention to the schism between the earlier me and the new me as no other book or story has previously done. I think one reason this story has been so difficult is that this is me trying to leave a period of work behind. I am finishing with Dancy. Oddly, I'm finishing by telling the first story. Well, not counting whatever went down in the cabin on Eleanore Road before she started her journey that ends with Threshold ("You know, like Caine in Kung Fu. Just walk from town to town, meet people, get in adventures."). It's also the story of her mother. It's also another story entirely. You'll see. Me, I just want it finished.

[livejournal.com profile] matociquala has written a very good entry on the subject of writing commercial fiction; just click here. Me, I can't do cartwheels for shit. Lately, I've found myself wanting to, really. I want to be a cartwheelin' fool. But I think I'm too tall and can't gather the requisite momentum to get my damn long legs off the ground. So, I keep writing these strange, unwieldy books no one much wants to read, no matter how many print critics heap praise upon them. I keep writing these books which do not neatly fit the "three-act" model. The last time anyone saw one of my books in an airport or grocery store was the original mass-market paperback release of Silk back in 1998. And we all know how well that went. Since then, I've set about writing the only way I know how. My books and stories are written to entertain no one but me. I am the only audience which I have in mind (and sometimes Spooky). If it turns out that someone else is entertained, it makes me very, very happy, especially if enough other people are entertained that my sales go up a little. But it's just not enough incentive to force me to learn the cartwheel trick. If it were, I'd be writing Bullet Girl #1 right now instead of tryting to decide what my next novel will be. My agent lectures me about "accessibility," and I know that she means well, and I do try to listen; I haven't the heart to tell her she's casting pearls before swine. Anyway, read what the Bear has to say. I don't want to highjack her entry, but it might well have been subtitled "Why Caitlín's books don't sell."

And yet, you can buy some of them on eBay, particularly the specialty press editions that have sold out. Please give our new auctions a look. The Dry Salvages is really quite good. That is, it entertained me. I wrote it because not enough people are writing the sort of sf that I want to read. I think [livejournal.com profile] docbrite described it as a "ripping good space yarn," which is very accurate. That's what it was meant to be, more or less. And subpress has sold out. You can get it cheaper, but not if you want it personalized by me. It was read by a number of the Big Hollywood Producers and Directors, though, ultimately, it was deemed too "literary" for film. Whatever. Anyway, we have copies up on eBay. Also, consider starting the year off right with a subscription to Sirenia Digest. I promise you there will not be one single cartwheel, but there are freakish contortionist acts aplenty.

Crap, I think I have a hangover...

Profile

greygirlbeast: (Default)
Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

S M T W T F S
    1 234
56 7 891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
26272829   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 25th, 2017 01:00 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios