greygirlbeast: (Default)
The snow is piling up again. But it's only cold, not bitterly cold.

Spooky and I have are both amazed and very, very pleased to see that pledges to The Tale of the Ravens Project have, in less than 24 hours, amounted to 51% of our goal. We are extremely grateful. Whatever doubts I may have harbored about using Kickstarter to fund those projects that can find funding nowhere else are being set aside. You guys rock. There are, though, a couple of questions that have come up, which I'll quickly address:

1. When you make a pledge to the project, it's just that— a pledge. Your card will not actually be charged the amount that you've pledged until (or soon after) March 26th, when the Kickstarter drive ends.

2. Someone asked how much we'll be charging for the finished folio/book. Quick answer: We're guessing that no more than 50 copies of the folio/book will be printed, about half of which may end up going to backers at the $150 and $500 support levels (29 copies, maximum/10 are currently spoken for). The remaining copies would likely run about $150 dollars each, considering production costs and time required to make them. Prints will also be sold, and an as yet undetermined number of copies the text-only chapbook will be available.

3. We cannot reserve copies. The only way to be sure you'll receive a copy of the finished folio is to pledge at the $150 or $500 dollar level.

4. You must create an account with Kickstarter to pledge, but that's very, very quick and easy.

Just click here to pledge. Also, here's a link to the Kickstarter FAQ. Again, thanks to everyone who has pledged so far! And yes, we are now calling ourselves Goat Girl Press.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,460 words on Chapter 5 of The Drowning Girl: A Memoir. I'm likely within four days of finishing the chapter. However, today I may set it aside to work on Sirenia Digest #62, then come back to the novel on Thursday.

[livejournal.com profile] readingthedark braved the nasty weather and slick roads last night, and so visited with us after all. We got take out from the Palestinian place. I had a really good, very spicy beef shawarma. And we talked, and talked, and talked. I read him the most-recent seventeen pages of the novel, and was relieved that he liked them. He headed back to Framingham about 4 a.m. CaST.

Oh, also, I got on Spooky's laptop long enough to create an elf in LoTRO. Don't know if I'll ever actually get to play her, but it was still cool. Mithrien of Lorien. Now, time to brush my teeth, watch the snow fall, have some hot cocoa with Kraken spiced rum, and get to work.
greygirlbeast: (Ellen Ripley 1)
Yeah, well, me and Awake are not on speaking terms this afternoon. My gods, it is afternoon.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,440 words on "Untitled 33" and found THE END. The story came to 5,775 words, total, before any line edits that I'll do this afternoon. It's like a ride on a Tilt-a-Whirl, this one. Murder that might be only suicide. Suicide that might be only murder. The idea of "consensual" murder, which interests me greatly, except that there's always the possibility that the narrator is anything but reliable. And I do not know whether she is or not. I have had readers and editors and agents appalled before that I do not know such things, but why should I? The mystery is a mystery to me, as well.

Today will be spent proofreading "Untitled #33," and writing the prolegomena for Sirenia Digest, laying the issue out, sending it off to [livejournal.com profile] thingunderthest to be PDFed. This month, we have the new story, plus a long excerpt from The Red Tree, plus a new artist interview by [livejournal.com profile] readingthedark, and I hope people will be pleased.

If you have not, please do have a look at the current eBay auctions. Bid if you are so able. Thanks.

Still raining here in Providence. I've hardly left the house in a week.

Last night, Spooky made a very fine chicken stew, with eggplant, green bell pepper, mushrooms, potatoes, and so forth. Afterwards, I needed a guaranteed "comfort" film, so I chose the director's cut of James Cameron's Aliens (1986). My, but this film has aged well. It's hard to believe it's twenty-two years old. The girl who played Newt —— Carrie Henn —— is now thirty two. Wrap your brain around that. And she never appeared in another film. Aliens is still a beautiful, brilliant thing. A glorious, terrible spectacle of fire and shadow. Ellen Ripley stands as the archetype of the sf heroine. And Hudson is still as annoying as ever. It's almost impossible for me to say which of the four Alien films is my favourite, as each sets out to do such very different things. Alien is straight-forward Lovecraftian horror. Aliens is epic adventure. The criminally underappreciated Alien³ is possibly the most complex, harking back to the simple horror of the first film, but combining it with a skein of sociopolitical subtexts. And then Alien: Resurrection, a black comedy, of all things, and I love it, warts and all. I think I always forget that Aliens, aside from being a fine, fine action flick, is also a damn moving piece of cinema. Ellen and Newt deserved to make it back to Earth, of course, but, of course, how many of us ever get what we deserve?

After the movie, World of Warcraft, though not quite as much. I really, truly, am in love with the whole world of the Sin'dorei ("blood elves"), which is, by far, the most fully realised part of WoW that I've seen. And I got my very own imp last night, Volyal. So, I made it to Level 21 with Mithwen, the night-elf fighter, and to Level 8 with Shaharrazad, the blood-elf warlock. Working both sides of the street, as is were, Alliance and Hoarde. At one point yesterday, I began to wonder how many celebs have admitted to being WoW addicts. Robin Williams. Ben Affleck. Cameron Diaz. Vin Diesel, of course. Lots more. I may compile a list.

Okay...the work is waiting.
greygirlbeast: (Middle Triassic)
Soooooo...a Joyful Mabon to all those who mark the turning of the Wheel of the Year.

But, I'm making this post because a few of you expressed interest in joining me and Spooky in World of Warcraft. And I discovered this morning that I goofed when I set up my account last Saturday. You may recall, I was in the throes of tooth pain and Oxycodon. Instead of choosing an RP server, I chose a PVP server (Anub'arak). And we didn't catch it until this ayem, which might say something about the usefulness of WoW for actual rp. Anyway, despite the fact that my character, Merricat, was LvL 19+, and Spooky's, Syllahr, was 17+, tonight we started we've both started over on an RP server — Cenarian Circle. My new character looks exactly the same, but is named Mithwen, instead of Merricat, as I was in the mood for Sindarin (Mith = "grey" + the suffix wen, "maiden"). Spooky is still Syllahr, and she says I shouldn't be Tolkien's bitch. But I am. Anyway, as I write this, I've made it back up to Lvl. 8 (since 9:00 pm). And that's the server where we'll be, if anyone is looking for us. Apologies for any inconvenience.

I'll make a real post tomorrow.
greygirlbeast: (Default)
Today is 114th birthday of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien (January 3, 1892 – September 2, 1973), philologist extraordinaire, Oxford University professor of Anglo-Saxon language, Beowulf scholar, mythologist, poet, and fantasy author. I have been in the midst of a sort of Tolkien renaissance the last few years, and tonight I will light a candle for the architect of Middle-Earth. And please remember — Robert Jordan is not his fault...



Ne minuial tôl lû
Ir tirich er-'îl gelair awarthannen
Ir in-elenath gwennin.
I 'îl thinna, i amar ú-dhartha.


(At starfade a time comes
When you see one brilliant star left behind
When the starry host has departed.
The star fades, the world does not wait.)

"Naergon an Thinnuel (a Tinw)"
"Lament for Evenstar (and the little star)"
greygirlbeast: (Tull3)
Technically, this is a day off. Though I might argue that by allowing myself to make a journal entry, which will inevitably concern work, I'm marring the offness. So, let's call this a 98% day off. Yesterday, I looked at my day-planner and realised I'd not had a genuine day without writing or the busyness of writing in at least two weeks, and most likely a few days more than that. So, today I intend to make this entry, have a hot bath, play Final Fantasy XII, and see The Fountain. Not necessarily in that order.

I wrote 1,667 words yesterday. Which makes it quite a decent writing day. I didn't finish up until just before 8:30 p.m. (CaST).

There were some good comments to that portion of yesterday's entry which was concerned with the horror show that living the life of a working writer can be. I was particularly taken with the following, in which James A. Owen ([livejournal.com profile] coppervale) wrote:

Regarding this, and the comment below about not expecting to find any special insights about making it work (while reading your journal):

That underscores the misunderstanding a lot of people have about what we do. There seems to be an implied social contract for writers to explain how we do what we do, or impart the secret, or whatever, that no one expects of say, Mechanical Engineers. With them, the answer would be "lots of education and a desire to do the work - or you'll never survive'. But that answer (which could also be ours) works for THEM, because people can't really dabble in Mechanical Engineering. A Mechanical Engineer does whatever they do without being expected to casually pass on the way to become a Mechanical Engineer. It's not our job to help someone become a writer, or make them feel better about the prospects of being a writer. Our job is just to write. And when a new writer realizes that THAT'S their job, too, then they won't have to have the decision justified by whatever you, or, I, or Neil, or Poppy might say. Because they won't need it.


I doubt I could say this better, and so I will not now try.

Now, from the Why-Do-I-Keep-Doing-This-To-Myself Dept., last night Spooky and I watched what is quite possibly the worst theatrically-released film of 2005 (at least, of those I've seen), Uwe Boll's craptacular BloodRayne. I have long since learned to come to a movie based upon a videogame with the lowest expectations. In this case, I only hoped that it might be sexy and fun in a dumb sort of way, which is how I would desribe BloodRayne II (I never actually played the first game). I thought I would get at least that much. Wrong. Wrong. And wrong again. If it is possible for a film to fail in every way possible, no exceptions, then that is BloodRayne's sole success. Wooden acting (Michael Madsen was doing it on purpose, I am convinced) and a non-existent script. Some of the worst fight choreography and cinematography I've ever seen. Really, the cinematography of this film is a wonder, managing somehow to produce all the ill effects of a pan-and-scan conversion on widescreen. I stopped even trying to pay attention halfway through. Even the presence of Michelle Rodriguez could not hold my attention. I'm pretty sure the whole thing must have been filmed at some abandoned Dracula theme park in Romania. There could have been something campy and fun here, something along the lines of Stephen Sommers' Van Helsing (2004). But there isn't. Don't waste your time.

Afterwards, I played a couple more hours' worth of Final Fantasy XII before bed, reaching the Ogir-Yensa Sandsea. Read "Shelob's Lair" from The Two Towers. Fell asleep about 3 a.m. listening to The Moon and the Melodies, a 4AD Cocteau Twins side-project.

By the way, is anyone out there reasonably fluent in Sindarin? I need to translate a few things, and I don't yet trust my own abilities. Any assistance would be appreciated. Thanks. Anyway, today there will be neither doughnuts nor platypus. But I must set about the business of not working...

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Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

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