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Soooooo...there's a mere ten hours and twelve minutes remaining in the letter S auction. I'm just saying. In case, you know, maybe you forgot. It happens...
Addendum: Reminder
Feb. 21st, 2006 10:31 pmJust a quick note to remind everyone that the Frog Toes and Tentacles letter S auction ends in only 1 day and 12 hrs. Also, Spooky is testing the eBay doll market (that sounds slightly illicit) with Lisa, so have a look.
a cat in a room full of dogs
Feb. 20th, 2006 11:42 amThe dreams were spectacularly vivid last night. I cannot now build anything like narratives from them, as they've already faded far too much. There's nothing remaining but bright shards behind my eyes. I feel somewhere south of centre, but at least the funk that began Friday night seems to have released me for the time being. No thanks to the weather, I might add. Today and yesterday, it's like summer in the equatorial ice forests of Nebari Prime out there — cold, wet, drizzle, fog for a sky.
I have decided to allow myself only two more days editing Daughter of Hounds before I send it away to NYC. I could keep picking at it until Friday. But it's making me ill, I think, and I need to be done and get it out of here. I couldn't stand to look at it yesterday. The day was spent wandering, instead. There are too many annoyances left to be dealt with. For example, I forgot that convenience stores in Rhode Island aren't permitted to sell beer or wine, so there this whole thing in Chapter Nine that has to be written out of the ms. Wandering was preferable. At some point, I read part of the type description of Adamantisaurus mezzalirai, a new titanosaurid sauropod from southeastern Brazil. And at some other point, I was looking at the big, gaudy book that's been published about the Broadway musical version of Gregory Maguire's Wicked and getting pissed at how wrong it is (wrong in the "cosmic horror" sense of the word), how the actress playing Elphaba looks nothing like Elphaba and they did Nessarose all backwards, and Spooky says the music is insipid and cloying (thankfully, I've not heard it). But it got me to thinking about a musical of Low Red Moon, because, you know, if some witless producer showed up with a ton of money, it's not like I'd say no. I'd take the damned money, and it would be dumb and gaudy and insipid, and Narcissa would sing happy songs about being neither a ghul nor human, and somehow the ending would be gloriously upbeat. Perhaps I should begin writing lyrics, because Wayne Cilento and Stephen Schwartz and Joe Mantello are likely to be knocking at the door any damn day now, and I don't want them to think me unenthusiastic.
Anyway, the platypus was grateful for some downtime yesterday.
We're trying to plan the week (I mean beside the writing part), and maybe we'll begin reading Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, or maybe we'll go on a Hal Hartley binge. Or maybe it'll be a Wim Winders binge, instead.
This is Day 5 of the letter S auction, the proceeds of which will be going to pay the latest astronomical gas bill. If you don't bid, you can't win, and only the winner will be able to sit around in his or her unmentionables fondling the crushed velvet "cozy" lined in red silk, contemplating the hand-embroidered letter S. That's something to consider. Sure, there will be other letters, but we're talking S here. Also, we have some other auctions going on, and today is an especially wonderful day to begin your subscription to Sirenia Digest. Just click here.
I continue to be pleased with Jane Raeburn's book, Celtic Wicca. Take this short quote, for example: There are no ancient Druid manuscripts. Anywhere. Ever. Anybody who claims he or she has access to one is, at best, projecting a religious belief as historical reality. Sometimes, it's necessary to state the obvious...
I have decided to allow myself only two more days editing Daughter of Hounds before I send it away to NYC. I could keep picking at it until Friday. But it's making me ill, I think, and I need to be done and get it out of here. I couldn't stand to look at it yesterday. The day was spent wandering, instead. There are too many annoyances left to be dealt with. For example, I forgot that convenience stores in Rhode Island aren't permitted to sell beer or wine, so there this whole thing in Chapter Nine that has to be written out of the ms. Wandering was preferable. At some point, I read part of the type description of Adamantisaurus mezzalirai, a new titanosaurid sauropod from southeastern Brazil. And at some other point, I was looking at the big, gaudy book that's been published about the Broadway musical version of Gregory Maguire's Wicked and getting pissed at how wrong it is (wrong in the "cosmic horror" sense of the word), how the actress playing Elphaba looks nothing like Elphaba and they did Nessarose all backwards, and Spooky says the music is insipid and cloying (thankfully, I've not heard it). But it got me to thinking about a musical of Low Red Moon, because, you know, if some witless producer showed up with a ton of money, it's not like I'd say no. I'd take the damned money, and it would be dumb and gaudy and insipid, and Narcissa would sing happy songs about being neither a ghul nor human, and somehow the ending would be gloriously upbeat. Perhaps I should begin writing lyrics, because Wayne Cilento and Stephen Schwartz and Joe Mantello are likely to be knocking at the door any damn day now, and I don't want them to think me unenthusiastic.
Anyway, the platypus was grateful for some downtime yesterday.
We're trying to plan the week (I mean beside the writing part), and maybe we'll begin reading Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, or maybe we'll go on a Hal Hartley binge. Or maybe it'll be a Wim Winders binge, instead.
This is Day 5 of the letter S auction, the proceeds of which will be going to pay the latest astronomical gas bill. If you don't bid, you can't win, and only the winner will be able to sit around in his or her unmentionables fondling the crushed velvet "cozy" lined in red silk, contemplating the hand-embroidered letter S. That's something to consider. Sure, there will be other letters, but we're talking S here. Also, we have some other auctions going on, and today is an especially wonderful day to begin your subscription to Sirenia Digest. Just click here.
I continue to be pleased with Jane Raeburn's book, Celtic Wicca. Take this short quote, for example: There are no ancient Druid manuscripts. Anywhere. Ever. Anybody who claims he or she has access to one is, at best, projecting a religious belief as historical reality. Sometimes, it's necessary to state the obvious...
this, and this, and this
Feb. 12th, 2006 01:13 pmI just read that NYC is getting its second heaviest snowfall on record. Here we saw a few flurries late this morning, nothing sticking. Mostly just grey skies. Spooky misses the snow. She's on the phone with her mother, who says they only have about six inches in Saunderstown (RI), though her sister, who's in Brooklyn, has a couple of feet.
Some part of me feels sick this morning. Not germ sick. Some intangible bit of me I can't treat with pills and the like. I'm very, very tired. I feel as though I could sleep a week. At least. We finished with read-through on Daughter of Hounds yesterday. Spooky cried again. It just left me feeling drained and at a loss. Like, okay, here it is. I've done this thing again, this book thing. I'm not sure I know what to make of it, all these stories I keep telling. A little bit after we'd finished, I admit I also got weepy, for the characters, for all the work that's already gone into the novel, for all of it. It's part relief. It's part dread. It's part weariness. Right now, I feel as though I could never write another novel and it would be for the best. Maybe I won't feel that way next week or next month. I suppose we'll see. I've put too much of myself into Daughter of Hounds, much more than I could spare. Now I want to hide it away somewhere, in a closet or beneath the bed. I don't want to see it edited and copyedited and published and reviewed and commented upon by readers. I just want to put it somewhere safe, and it could always be mine and never anyone else's. I don't know that I've ever felt this protective of one of my novels. I just want to keep it safe.
After we'd finished yesterday, Spooky and I took a walk in the cold. I needed twelve stones for a ritual. The wind was brutal. I expect it's worse today, so I probably won't leave the apartment. I'm going to try to rest today. Just rest. Tomorrow I have to begin the revisions. The book's due on March 1st, and there won't be another extension. That gives me, at most, fourteen or fifteen days to get all this done. And I'm trying not think about what comes after that. I really have no idea what comes after that.
I think we added one or two new Sirenia Digest subscribers yesterday. I'm very much hoping that there are more today. The Frog Toes and Tentacles letter S auction begins later this afternoon, but I figured I might as well go ahead and put up the photos of the book (behind the cut) and its "cozy," then I'll post a link as soon as it's up on eBay. The winner of the auction will also get a copy of False Starts, the chapbook published with FT&T.
( letter S )
And it's Darwin Day. A day to celebrate life and the sciences that allow us to begin to understand life. So maybe I'll write something appropriately Darwinist later on...
Some part of me feels sick this morning. Not germ sick. Some intangible bit of me I can't treat with pills and the like. I'm very, very tired. I feel as though I could sleep a week. At least. We finished with read-through on Daughter of Hounds yesterday. Spooky cried again. It just left me feeling drained and at a loss. Like, okay, here it is. I've done this thing again, this book thing. I'm not sure I know what to make of it, all these stories I keep telling. A little bit after we'd finished, I admit I also got weepy, for the characters, for all the work that's already gone into the novel, for all of it. It's part relief. It's part dread. It's part weariness. Right now, I feel as though I could never write another novel and it would be for the best. Maybe I won't feel that way next week or next month. I suppose we'll see. I've put too much of myself into Daughter of Hounds, much more than I could spare. Now I want to hide it away somewhere, in a closet or beneath the bed. I don't want to see it edited and copyedited and published and reviewed and commented upon by readers. I just want to put it somewhere safe, and it could always be mine and never anyone else's. I don't know that I've ever felt this protective of one of my novels. I just want to keep it safe.
After we'd finished yesterday, Spooky and I took a walk in the cold. I needed twelve stones for a ritual. The wind was brutal. I expect it's worse today, so I probably won't leave the apartment. I'm going to try to rest today. Just rest. Tomorrow I have to begin the revisions. The book's due on March 1st, and there won't be another extension. That gives me, at most, fourteen or fifteen days to get all this done. And I'm trying not think about what comes after that. I really have no idea what comes after that.
I think we added one or two new Sirenia Digest subscribers yesterday. I'm very much hoping that there are more today. The Frog Toes and Tentacles letter S auction begins later this afternoon, but I figured I might as well go ahead and put up the photos of the book (behind the cut) and its "cozy," then I'll post a link as soon as it's up on eBay. The winner of the auction will also get a copy of False Starts, the chapbook published with FT&T.
And it's Darwin Day. A day to celebrate life and the sciences that allow us to begin to understand life. So maybe I'll write something appropriately Darwinist later on...
This is likely to be a somewhat rambley and unfocused entry, as I am neither particularly awake nor in particularly good spirits. Likely, there will be short paragraphs. Likely, maybe, perhaps, something unpleasant will be said. Or not. But I advise that you get off now if you're prone to sea sickness, hives, or sudden bouts of impatience. My hair hurts.
Yesterday, among other things, we made it though Chapter Eight of Daughter of Hounds, which, along with Chapter Four, has had me worried, as it's somewhat, shall we say, "action heavy." I don't credit myself with being especially good with action scenes, partly because I'm always thinking how much better they would work on film. But, low and behold and what to you know, I think it's actually very good. There's fire and any number of alternate realities. Chapter Eight is where the novel's two parallel narrative threads finally collide. It's the climax before the climax (before the final climax). This one comes with false bottoms, so you'll be having to mind your steps. I believe that I would also contend that it's a novel without a "villain," that it only contains characters which are at crossed purposes. Of course, I suppose the same could be said for any supposed protagonist/antagonist relationship. Well, okay, I can think of one good villain, but he doesn't get much "screen time." Today, we do Chapter Nine.
More pencils from Vince last night, a sketch for "Untitled 17." Very nice. I may have all the finished artwork for Sirenia Digest #3 by sometime this evening. And by the way, this is a very good day to become a subscriber if you're not one already. Just click here, read the FAQ, then subscribe. For the price of just two or three big cups of that bitter swill Starbuck's insists upon calling coffee, you can have two or three new pieces a fiction each month, plus illustrations and etc. For less than the price of a pizza. Come on. It's the right thing to do. Search your feelings. You know it to be true. If you only knew the power of the Dark Side. It is your destiny. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy, and...er...um...well, just frelling subscribe, okay? Do it today and you'll even get a free copy of the trade paperback of Silk.
A big thank you to David Kirkpatrick, who e-mailed me a PDF of the paper in Nature describing the holotype of the tyrannosauroid, Guanlong wucaii, thus saving me a trip to Emory. Also, these are much better resolution illos. than I'd have ever gotten from a photocopy. Freed from the need to go to the library, Spooky and I wandered about L5P for a while. It was really too cold, though, and we hadn't dressed for it, so we didn't wander for very long. We grabbed what we needed for dinner from the co-op (garlic, fresh basil, tomatoes, field greens, a bag of Newman's Own cinnamon-graham cookies) and headed home again. Warmish once more, I read a paper on a new Lower Cretaceous elasmosaurid taxon, Eromangasaurus caringnathus, from the Lower Cretaceous of Australia and began another on heterodonty in Tyrannosaurus rex. We spent most of the evening reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I fear both the PlayStation and the X-Box are feeling rather neglected this winter.
I think Spooky means to begin the letter S auction later today. I'll make a post when she does. Also, if you haven't yet pre-ordered Alabaster, you should, especially if you're wanting the limited edition.
Oh, and Sunday is Darwin Day. I musn't forget to make an appropriately Darwinist post on the twelfth. Tonight, of course, we get the opening ceremony for the 2006 winter olympics. I'm not one for any sort of team sports, but I do enjoy much of the winter olympics. Okay. I should think that's more than enough of me for one morning...
Yesterday, among other things, we made it though Chapter Eight of Daughter of Hounds, which, along with Chapter Four, has had me worried, as it's somewhat, shall we say, "action heavy." I don't credit myself with being especially good with action scenes, partly because I'm always thinking how much better they would work on film. But, low and behold and what to you know, I think it's actually very good. There's fire and any number of alternate realities. Chapter Eight is where the novel's two parallel narrative threads finally collide. It's the climax before the climax (before the final climax). This one comes with false bottoms, so you'll be having to mind your steps. I believe that I would also contend that it's a novel without a "villain," that it only contains characters which are at crossed purposes. Of course, I suppose the same could be said for any supposed protagonist/antagonist relationship. Well, okay, I can think of one good villain, but he doesn't get much "screen time." Today, we do Chapter Nine.
More pencils from Vince last night, a sketch for "Untitled 17." Very nice. I may have all the finished artwork for Sirenia Digest #3 by sometime this evening. And by the way, this is a very good day to become a subscriber if you're not one already. Just click here, read the FAQ, then subscribe. For the price of just two or three big cups of that bitter swill Starbuck's insists upon calling coffee, you can have two or three new pieces a fiction each month, plus illustrations and etc. For less than the price of a pizza. Come on. It's the right thing to do. Search your feelings. You know it to be true. If you only knew the power of the Dark Side. It is your destiny. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy, and...er...um...well, just frelling subscribe, okay? Do it today and you'll even get a free copy of the trade paperback of Silk.
A big thank you to David Kirkpatrick, who e-mailed me a PDF of the paper in Nature describing the holotype of the tyrannosauroid, Guanlong wucaii, thus saving me a trip to Emory. Also, these are much better resolution illos. than I'd have ever gotten from a photocopy. Freed from the need to go to the library, Spooky and I wandered about L5P for a while. It was really too cold, though, and we hadn't dressed for it, so we didn't wander for very long. We grabbed what we needed for dinner from the co-op (garlic, fresh basil, tomatoes, field greens, a bag of Newman's Own cinnamon-graham cookies) and headed home again. Warmish once more, I read a paper on a new Lower Cretaceous elasmosaurid taxon, Eromangasaurus caringnathus, from the Lower Cretaceous of Australia and began another on heterodonty in Tyrannosaurus rex. We spent most of the evening reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I fear both the PlayStation and the X-Box are feeling rather neglected this winter.
I think Spooky means to begin the letter S auction later today. I'll make a post when she does. Also, if you haven't yet pre-ordered Alabaster, you should, especially if you're wanting the limited edition.
Oh, and Sunday is Darwin Day. I musn't forget to make an appropriately Darwinist post on the twelfth. Tonight, of course, we get the opening ceremony for the 2006 winter olympics. I'm not one for any sort of team sports, but I do enjoy much of the winter olympics. Okay. I should think that's more than enough of me for one morning...
