greygirlbeast: (blood)
Set me aflame and cast me free,
Away, you wretched world of tethers...


Yesterday, I wrote 915 words on "The Collector of Bones" and finished the story. It's an odd piece, one of the sort I used to call "bad shopping-cart stories," because I want them to go one way, yet they are determined to go another. In the end, "The Collector of Bones" seems to hark back to Tales of Pain and Wonder — thematically and in mood, more than in its style. The ending is quiet and somewhat sweet (or bittersweet) and not nearly as grim as I'd expected. I'm not yet quite sure how I feel about the piece, what with it having turned out so differently than I'd originally envisioned. But, as I have said, writing, storytelling, is a wild magick, and we usually err when we push too hard one way or another.

I'm not sleeping enough. No matter what, I seem unable to get to sleep before 4:30 a.m. or so, Ambien or no, and I'm waking by 11 a.m. And the bloody fucking dream is not helping. It came back to me last night. Back on the "space balloon," and mostly only things I'd seen and done in earlier incarnations of the dream. There was a long portion, which I only just recall, with me lying in the upper berth of my sleeping compartment, smoking and listening to the orange man talk. I have no recollection of what he was saying, and it seems that even in the dream I was only half paying attention. I'm not sure if that was before or after he gets shot. Spooky has stopped blaming David Bowie for this one, and has begun blaming This Mortal Coil.

I shake, for the reeking flesh
Is as romantic as hell.
The need to have seen it all,
The voyeur of utter destruction as beauty,
I shake.


Last night, we watched Louise Osmond and Jerry Rothwell's 2006 documentary, Deep Water, which follows Donald Crowhurst's disasterous bid to win the Sunday Times Golden Globe Race (1968-1969). A moving and truly brilliant film, and, unexpectedly, I was reminded repeatedly of both House of Leaves and Bowie's "Space Oddity." What begins as a tale of conquest and human achievement becomes, instead, a tale of human frailty when pitted against unimaginable loneliness and one's own deteriorating psyche. Towards the end, there was so much more of horror than I'd expected, with both Crowhurst and his far more skilled French competitor, Bernard Moitessier. Strongly recommended.

Unfortunately, the same day I decide to begin writing about my Second Life characters, I have one of the few truly awful nights of SL I've ever had (and certainly the worst in the last few months). So, that will have to wait.

At least there's Kid Night tonight.
greygirlbeast: (Bowie1)
The New Recurring Dream did not recur last night, which I shall deem a small mercy. Lots of other "head garbage," but nothing I recall well enough that it seems significant, nothing I'd bother trying to recount.

Yesterday, I did 1,335 words on "The Collector of Bones," which I expect to finish today (for Sirenia Digest #26). Speaking of which, yesterday [livejournal.com profile] jtglover wrote the following, with regard to this story:

This might be the appropriate point to ask, what are your thoughts about titles that are or have been used by more than one author? Sometimes a title seems appropriate, and then you late find out someone's used it, but how about titles that are common words? I know you've used titles that have been used by others before, but I'd love your take on this.

The original comment included a link to the IMDb page for Phillip Noyce's astoundingly mediocre film, The Bone Collector (1999). I confess that, consciously, I'd entirely forgotten about that film, as it so completely failed to either impress or disappoint. But, to answer the question at hand, I think a) "The Bone Collector" and "The Collector of Bones" are not actually the same titles, and that b) this sort of thing has to be addressed on a case-by-case basis. Which might be all I have in the way of a take on this. Titles cannot be copyrighted (though they can be trademarked), and most times there's no legal problem using a title that's been used before, which is good, since almost anything you can think of has probably been used by someone as a title for something, somewhere, sometime. Silk was certainly not the first book to wear that title, and Low Red Moon was a song by Belly before it was a novel by me, and, of course, Gustave Flaubert wrote a novel titled Salammbô 134 years before I used the same title for a short story. I think titles are pretty much made to be recycled, most times. As for "The Collector of Bones" (my short story, not to be confused with the Phillip Noyce film The Bone Collector), I think that the title will remain the same, as it is very fitting, and my only alternate title, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, is also already taken.

The weather is cooling off to something more approximating January in Georgia.

I'm beginning the think that so much of my creative energy these days is going into the construction of various roelplays in Second Life (three stories, four characters, to be precise), that I'm going to begin talking about them more in this journal. This sort of rp can be really good improvisational theatre, and, while I've tried to keep my second and first lives apart from one another, the lines have become increasingly blurred. So, yeah, I'll probably start letting you in on bits and pieces of those stories, including the Dune sim (where I play a Fremen Naib named Shahrazad al-Anwar) and the ruined city by the sea where it is always either dawn or dusk (where I play the sadomasochistic daughter of the parthenogenic union of a Nephilim and a cyborg). I'll drop screenshots in from time to time, and links to transcripts and such, unless everyone screams that I shouldn't.

Please have a look at the current eBay auctions. I have coffee to attend to.

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Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

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