Ostara '10

[greygirlbeast]

The sun is hidden by clouds today, and it's cooler again. Not cold, but cooler. Though I find that the longer I live in New England, the more liberal I am with my definition of warm. When I left Atlanta, my comfort threshold was somewhere between 75-80F. These days, it's dropped to something more like 55-60F. Acclimation, I suppose. I think the cooler weather bothers me quite a bit less than the "delayed" return of green. Anyway, yes, the clouds and rain are back, and it's Ostara.

Yesterday was an exceptional writing day, in terms of word count. I did 1,718 words on "Houndwife." I'm thinking I'll be able to finish the story tomorrow or Wednesday. Yesterday's biggest surprise (if a story fails to surprise me, I see no reason to be telling it) was learning that not only is "Houndwife" a sort of sequel to HPL's "The Hound" (1922), but that it's also tied to my own "Les Fleurs Empoisonnées" (2001), one of the Dancy Flammarion stories. Turns out that during her childhood the narrator of "Houndwife" met one of the Ladies of the Stephens Ward Tea League and Society of Resurrectionists and...well...you'll see. If you're a subscriber to Sirenia Digest. Anyway, I didn't see this coming at all. I've not thought about Miss Ararmat's bunch since I wrote "Still Life" for Tales from the Woeful Platypus in October 2006.

I was reading back over old entries this morning, old entries for this date, and I was especially pleased with what I had to say on this day one year ago, regarding my feelings towards competitiveness. None of this has changed, except that it's become even more true than it was a year ago.

Last night, Spooky and I watched the new episodes of Spartacus: Blood and Sand and Caprica. I grow ever more impressed with the latter, and it occurs to me belatedly that I should be looking at the plot and characters with an eye towards parallels in Greek and Roman mythology.

Comments

[sovay]

Turns out that during her childhood the narrator of "Houndwife" met one of the Ladies of the Stephens Ward Tea League and Society of Resurrectionists and...well...you'll see.

I look forward.

[graypumpkin.livejournal.com]

It always fascinating and even hearting to read about authors being surprised by their own stories, thanks for sharing.

I've been enjoying Caprica and better yet got me to start watching Battlestar which I had managed to let slip pass me somehow.

I need to catch up on Spartacus, which I enjoyed in a gonzo history on steroids kind of way, but from what I hear it improves as it goes on.

[alvyarin.livejournal.com]

In the Garden of Poisonous Flowers is the first book (novella?) of yours I encountered, after it was reviewed in Realms of Fantasy. I am VERY excited for "Houndwife" and to see Miss Ararmat's group again.

[martianmooncrab.livejournal.com]

my definition of warm

When I was stationed in Wales, I remember when it hit 50 one day, and we all got into cutoffs and tshirts and played some American Touch Football because it was a veritable heatwave.

[tinkbell.livejournal.com]

I'm interested in how Greek mythology changed when the Romans adopted it with their way of liberally and enthusiastically borrowing many things they found, and the way they took in Greek myths and thought along with Middle Eastern mystery religions, of Egyption art, and other cultural food, though watching the Christians eat some lions, or whatever, might have been more the taste of many of Romans (the latter might be a Fox TV theme. But I might look up this show.) Or why Christ won over Mithras.

[alvyarin.livejournal.com]

Speaking of Sirenia Digests, I just finished (realizing I am very behind) "Exuvium" (#48 I believe). I loved it. It reminded me a lot of "Onion", which is one of my favorite short stories of yours. I am still hoping a film will come out of the latter.

Vince's illustration where she is wrapping herself in the strips of paper is gorgeous.

[thimbleofrain.livejournal.com]

My high school years were far from joyful, but it sounds like they were better than yours. I mainly hung out with my own geeky group of friends, playing roleplaying games, etc. I certainly don’t have nightmares about that time in my life anymore—if that’s the benchmark for reflecting on how awful and damaging something was.

When I first went to college, I signed up to be a cheerleader. It was a small school, so there was no prestige to the role and no competition to get on the squad. (All you had to do was show up to practices and games.) We sucked, but it was kind of fun. Other than working at the science club snack bar, I’d never really “gotten involved” at school before. It put things into perspective. Not sure what more to say about it. People who know me laugh when I tell them I was a cheerleader; either that or they don’t believe me. Wonder what that says about their perception of me?

I’m good at competing, but I don’t seek out competition anymore. There was a time in my life when being good at something seemed like reason enough to do it. I no longer feel that way.

I’m a little nervous typing this. Seems like whenever I post something, you use it as an example of what to say if you’d like to be banned from your LJ page. It’s disconcerting. I don’t really “get offended,” not the way people describe it, and so I don’t understand sometimes how or why other people do. (Honestly, it seems like a useless emotion to me. I’m not sure where it comes from. I’ve fantasized that people are just making it up. Something annoys or upsets them, and they claim to be “offended.” It feels like a grand conspiracy to make me feel awkward. Like high school.) Rest assured that when I do offend, it’s not on purpose. (Not in your case at least.) I’m just trying (and failing, apparently) to be helpful, interesting, pleasing, whatever. And you don’t need to ban me: Just ask, and I won’t trouble you anymore. I’m vain, in my way. I’m used to being in demand.

A (more) random thing: I had a dream about Neil Gaiman last night, and when I woke up, I thought about you. In the dream, Neil and I were at a large comic book convention, and he was talking with a young woman who wanted to make a living as a writer. The conversation revolved around how a tiny number of people in certain fields make most of the money. My role seemed to be to add color commentary. I think Neil and I were meant to represent the two extremes. When the woman left, we, the “professionals,” were all supposed to go someplace to eat. On the way, I told Neil that I didn’t think there were going to be any more creators like him. “You may be the last of the comic book superstars,” I said. Then I remembered that I’d posted something similar to that in a comment to you one time, and that broke the dream’s spell.

Glad to hear you’re writing again. Looks like I worry about you even in my sleep.

[cmpriest.livejournal.com]

Though I find that the longer I live in New England, the more liberal I am with my definition of warm.

Same thing's happened to me in Seattle. Sort of. I don't think I'll ever really be comfortable here, but my definition of "acceptable weather" has undergone a shift out of sheer desperation.