greygirlbeast: (fry1)
Not sure why I'm using my Carolyn Fry icon today, from that marvelous scene as the Hunter Gratzner crashes. It just felt right. Maybe it says something about the health of Frank the Goat this morning and early afternoon, as LJ suffered another DDoS attack.

1) A late start to the day. But I've already signed 600+ signature sheets for Confessions of a Five-Chambered Heart (coming from Subterranean Press in 2012) and proofed inked pages for the Alabaster comic. I wish I could show you more of the art; the first issue is going to kick ass, and a lot of that credit will go to Steve Lieber (artist and letterer), our colorist Rachelle Rosenberg, and cover artist Greg Ruth.

2) I'm still hoping to be able to begin the new short story, for Sirenia Digest #72, started this afternoon. A tale about two women who become cities. And yeah, sorry, the digest will be woefully late this month. November was a right proper cunt, was she. So, blame her. But, still, I hope to have it out by the 10th of December at the latest.

3) And speaking of Sirenia Digest #72, come on, kittens. Get in those responses to the fifth Question @ Hand. Don't be shy. You get complete anonymity, and you DO NOT have to worry about the feasibility of the science in your replies. Oh, and I'll be especially pleased by entries that make no mention of my being a writer. But don't tarry too long. If these are going to make it into #72, I need all replies in by midnight CaST (EST +1 hour) Wednesday, December 7th.

4) Good RP in Rift last night. Thank you, all who took part. You were splendid. I'm hoping to double our numbers by the end of December, and then worry a lot less about recruiting for a bit. I'm beginning to wonder if a surprisingly (to me) small number of my readers are gamers. My calls for players go mostly unheeded, and, truly, not only is Rift an awesome game (as in, it fills me with awe), it's a great entertainment value. For the price of a large pizza, for less than a single movie for two, you get a month of unlimited play. Can't do much better than that. Dump that crappy cable TV, and come and play with us!

5) We've been working our way through Disc One of the most recent season of Doctor Who, and last night we finally saw the episode written by Neil, "The Doctor's Wife." Frankly, I was completely unimpressed by the four episodes (or was it three?) that preceded it, but then "The Doctor's Wife" blew me away. It is no lie to say that I very almost cried at the end. It shows that Matt Smith can be a good doctor, if given good scripts (though I still miss David Tenant, and I miss Christopher Eccleston – my doctor – even more). However, no author can redeem Rory Williams (BORING), and I want him gone.

6) Whoever is responsible for the portmanteau "advertorials" (derogatory shutter quotes!) needs to die, along with whoever invented the concept. And Jesus fuck, LJ knows how to spell the goddamned "word"!

Anyway, I think that's all for now. Carry on.

Eating A Cupcake,
Aunt Beast
greygirlbeast: (Default)
Yesterday, I wrote only 1,268 words, which filled me with hope that maybe the Forced March hasn't warped my daily word count after all. I might still be a tortoise. I'll be a glacier, and someone else can be a babbling brook. This new piece for Sirenia Digest, this grim new piece, it still has no title, but I don't want it to be "Untitled 24." I suspect I shall finish it tomorrow. I think I know what the second piece for #15 will be, and I think it's not erotic, nor grim, and I think it's a short bit of something from that flat half-globe world in Murder of Angels. I do not yet know this for a fact. I only think it might be.

I was reading Mind Fields last night, because Harlan sent me a copy this week, and came across this marvelous quote at the beginning of the book:

"Only he is an artist who can make a riddle out of a solution." — Karl Kraus (1874-1936)

I've spent long, circuitous paragraphs trying to say what is here said with such beautiful and precise brevity. So I will only add yes, exactly.

And here's an odd thing that occurred to me after yesterday's post. May one be both an iconoclast and an icon? Here this new review of Daughter of Hounds labels me an iconoclast. Yet, many times in the past, in various contexts, I have been called an icon. For example, in his introduction to Tales of Pain and Wonder, Doug Winter called me an icon of Gothic literature. So perhaps icon and iconoclast are entirely context dependent terms, completely relative, subjective. Based upon one's point of view. One woman's icon may be another man's iconoclast, etc. In fact, this seems rather obvious. Besides, I have long grown used to existing as a contradiction.

All the new Sirenia Digest subscribers who are due signed copies of the Silk trade paperback, the books went into the mail yesterday evening. You should have them sometime next week.

Despite his poor showing early on, Raven Blue has now taken the lead in the Ravens Four auction and has spent the morning gloating and casting all sorts of perfectly pointless charms. Raven Red is livid. Raven Green is sulking. I guess this is what I get for telling them popularity contests are for the birds.

Last night we had a truly bizarre double feature: John Shiban's Rest Stop and Michel Gondry's The Science of Sleep (La Science des rêves). The former was dull, artless, and as entirely devoid of imagination as any film could hope to be. I'm tempted to say that Australian filmmakers need to step away from this sort of thing, but then someone will immediately cite a good recent Australian thriller to prove me wrong. Anyway, The Science of Sleep was in all ways brilliant and delightful, and I loved it pretty much unreservedly. It tread very near the dreaded subject of dreamsickness. Afterwards, I went to bed and read chapters three and four of Joan Druett's In the Wake of Madness. And that was yesterday.

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Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

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