Caitlín R. Kiernan

Just as the last of the snow was melting, it snowed again last night. Not much here in Providence, but more up north.

Yesterday, I wrote another 1,068 words on the last chapter of The Drowning Girl: A Memoir. I think I'm terrified. The book is a house of cards, and I'm stacking more on top, and pulling cards out from the bottom, and somehow I have to keep the whole from toppling over. And there's to be a lot of sexual energy at the end, and it has to absolutely not become pornographic (not because I have anything against porn, but because that's not what this is meant to be).

Thanks to the awesome Richard A. Kirk, who sent me a copy of his illustrated novella, The Lost Machine. It's beautiful. You should order a copy. I say so. Also, there's a forward by Mike Mignola! In case you're unaware, I've worked with Rick on...let me see...five books, five books since 2000. Most recently, he did the amazing cover for The Ammonite Violin and Others.

Today, I think there's going to be a very small adventure, and then work, and a little work after that. I think.

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Selwyn made Level 13 last night, and Shaharrazad is only five quests (out of 86) away from having the Blade's Edge Mountains achievement (and so one achievement nearer Loremaster). Too much gaming. And, mostly, I'm having some weird worldshock, jumping back and forth between Telara and Azeroth. The latter being bright and cartoonish and silly, the former being so rich and urgent and possessed of depth. Oh, and there was about an hour of rp with a friend in Telara last night. She's another mage, named Enthlye. We sat on the docks at Kelari Refuge and had a conversation. It was very good, and I can see Rift lending itself to good rp, once you learn the lore. Well, actually, Enthlye talked and Selwyn scribbled on the planks with a stub of charcoal. When she made the jump from the future to the past, something went wrong, and she has no tongue. I've also discovered that Selwyn prefers to work magic with a sword, instead of a staff.

And, also, I really wish that people on SL and in MMORPGs would understand that roleplaying isn't writing. It's acting. And no, it's not collaborative writing. That's what actual writers who write together do. RP is theater, improvisational theater, and if you understand this one simple fact, you can make it good and rewarding. But to call it acting is like calling the act of writing a novel acting, which it isn't, no matter how deeply I immerse myself in a character. Now, you can write stories based on or inspired by rp (I've done that), but that happens after the actual rp, and it's writing, not rping.

Honestly, it feels like there are these people who want to be writers, but either they have no talent or they won't sign off a damned game or social dohicky or whatever long enough to endure the intense solitude of writing, so they're trying to change the definition of writing to include what they're doing.*

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I'm loving The Hunger Games more and more and more.

Okay, must take meds and finish coffee.

*Postscript (4:45 p.m.): To quote my post of January 28th, "1) Do not assume that because I express my views that I'm obligated to defend those views to you or engage in a dialogue, or even listen to your views. And I will exchange the favour."

Last night, I learned that The Ammonite Violin & Others has made the cover of Publishers Weekly (Volume 257 Issue 27 07/12/2010). It should go without saying that I am quite entirely pleased and somewhat gobsmacked. Here's the cover (the largest image I could find):



You can read the cover story here. And there's also a nice profile of Subterranean Press in the same issue, which you can read here.

Sadly, not only do I not have a subscription to Publishers Weekly, we spent part of the morning calling bookshops in Providence and Warwick, including the Brown University Bookstore, and were unable to find anyone who carries it. So, if some kind reader could please send me a copy, I would obviously be very, very grateful:

P.O. Box 603096
Providence, RI 02906

I need to let Rick Kirk know...

1. I began yesterday's entry with the following line: It's a dream-kill-dream world in here..., which I attributed to David Bowie. Then someone asked which song, in particular, I was quoting, that they'd googled the quote and come up with nothing. I had it in my head the line was from "Get Real," which was originally meant to be part of Outside (1995), but didn't make the cut. Turns out, I was wrong. Indeed, I cannot presently trace the quote to anything Bowie has written— or anything anyone else has written, for that matter —and it's all gotten alarmingly odd. It's used as an epigraph in my chapbook B is for Beginnings (2009), where I thought I'd attributed the quote to Bowie. Only, I didn't. I did not attribute it to anyone. So, now I have no idea where it might have originated. Did I write it? Did I find it online somewhere, on a page that has since vanished? At this point, I can't say. But if anyone should happen to solve this mystery, I would be grateful.

2. Yesterday, I began a new vignette, presently called "Untitled 35." I wrote only 624 words, for a number of reasons. Mostly, I got started very late in the day, around 3 p.m. (CaST). However, another problem goes back to what I have often said about science fiction (yes, "Untitled 35" is sf), the problem of linguistic evolution. Very few authors have ever managed to deal with this convincingly when writing about future societies. In my eyes, even Anthony Burgess' excellent A Clockwork Orange (1962) falls short in this regard, and Burgess was a trained linguist. Anyway, point being, in this new piece, a first-person narration, I am struggling to create a somewhat plausible "future language" for a late 21st Century Boston.

Of course, it needs to remain comprehensible to readers in 2010, which hobbles me considerably. But I am always galled by futuristic sf (even the stuff I like) that doesn't at least make some effort to deal with linguistic drift and evolution. Stories set two or three hundred years in the future, in which everyone speaks perfectly understandable English, and so forth; I consider this a far worse offense than "getting the science wrong" (though, technically, this is a matter of anthropology). Ideally, films and stories set that far ahead would need subtitles and glossaries. Think of it this way: Imagine you're living in 1820, in England, and somehow happen across a copy of William Gibson's Burning Chrome. Just how much sense would it make to you?

3. The final cover design for The Ammonite Violin & Others is now up at Subterranean Press, though I've neglected to post it here. Another great piece by Richard Kirk:



4. And now, another day begins. I apparently have no say in this, which seems odd.

1. There were terrible dreams this morning; I'm trying to let them all go, forget them. The only good thing about today thus far is that I'm having coffee with chicory for the first time in many years. I've been craving it for some time, and Spooky came back from the market on Thursday with a can of French Market. So, yeah, that one thing, at least, is good. Of course, I've only been up for about an hour, so the day may yet improve.

2. There was snow yesterday, but nothing heavy. I sat here at my desk and wrote the scene that I hope will open The Wolf Who Cried Girl, and I watched the snow spiraling down outside. Here in Providence, the ground has been white all year. Anyway, yeah, I did another 1,173 words yesterday. Today, I'll finish the prologue, and try to figure out if it really is how the book begins.

3. Okay, so here's the cool news about the forthcoming Audible.com adaptation of The Red Tree. I was informed on Thursday that it will be a multi-voice production, with different readers for Sharon Halperin (Sarah's editor), Sarah Crowe, and Charles Harvey. Which pleases me enormously, as this is how I want people to hear the novel. No word yet when it will be released. At this point, I'm working with Audible.com on a few very minor changes to the text, things that worked in print that obviously won't work for audio. The footnotes, for example.

4. I promised, back at the end of December, to post the cover art for The Ammonite Violin & Others, and then it slipped my mind. But, better late than never. Richard Kirk has, of course, done something brilliant. I'm placing it behind a cut, as the jpg is rather large:

( The Ammonite Violin )

5. I'm very pleased to announce that "The Steam Dancer (1896)" will be reprinted in Ann and Jeff VanderMeer's forthcoming anthology, Steampunk Reloaded.

6. I'm surprised that there haven't been more responses to last night's "If I were a summonable monster" poll, given that there have been about fifty replies to the "If you had me alone, locked up in your house, for twenty-four hours..." poll. I actually thought last night's question was far more fun. Anyway, I'll keep reading for both right up until time to begin production on Sirenia Digest #50, so there's still plenty of time.

7. My great thanks to Steven Lubold of Phoenix Comics in Fairfax, Virginia, who sent Spooky and me a number of very fine books from our Amazon wishlists. The distractions are very much appreciated!

It's sunny this morning, but we had a wild night here in Providence. A storm swept up from the southwest, and the Hurricane Barrier was closed for the first time since we moved here from Atlanta. It seems that the storm combined with the full-moon tides has produced some alarming seas. Today, we're driving down to Narragansett and Point Judith to see the waves (we also have to stop by Spooky's parents' place for eggs).

This year, I have so-far entirely neglected to mention the arrival of Jethro Tull Season. Traditionally, it begins the day after Thanksgiving, and it helps me survive the winter and, most especially, the horrors of Xmas.

Yesterday I worked on the "Sanderlings" chapbook, which will come FREE with the numbered edition of The Ammonite Violin & Others (Subterranean Press, June 2010). Mostly, I worked on the cover (for newcomers, I often do the covers of my subpress chapbooks) and came up with something I like. I emailed it to Bill Schafer, and he approved. Also, I wrote an afterword for the chapbook. Now, "Sanderlings" itself just needs a bit of tweaking, mostly line edits, and I have to get a couple of other images ready, and then it will all go to subpress and be out of my hands. And speaking of The Ammonite Violin & Others, last night Richard Kirk sent me a pencil sketch, an early study for his cover for the collection. I'm thinking, what a beautiful tattoo this would make:


Copyright © 2009 by Richard A. Rirk, All rights reserved.

Also, I finished reading David Quammen's Monster of God: The Man-Eating Predator in the Jungles of History and the Mind. Research for the Next Novel, and, for the most part, an excellent (and heartbreaking) book. And I signed eBay books so Spooky could send them out to auction winners.

Oh, and I finished the crossword puzzle in the December National Geographic. These little details should be remembered.

Last night, we watched Darnell Martin's Cadillac Records (2008), which was quite good. I was especially taken with Eamonn Walker's performance as Howlin' Wolf. What with the trip to Boston and all, I forgot to mention that, Monday night, we watched Erick Zonca's Julia (not to be confused with either Peter Straub's novel or Fred Zinnemann's 1977 film, both of the same name). I'd only been alerted to the existence of this film the day before, by sovay, and then Spooky discovered we could stream it from Netflix. Tilda Swinton gives one of the most brilliant (and unexpected) performances of her career. So, yeah, lots of good movies lately.

I slept about ten hours, which is really nothing short of amazing. All day yesterday was spent getting Sirenia Digest #32 out, six or seven hours work after four and a half hours sleep the night before. I will say that I think this issue of the Digest is one of the very best I've done, in terms of content and appearance. My grateful thanks to Sonya, Geoffrey, Vince, Rick, Gordon, and Spooky for making it work. Yesterday, somehow, I managed to proof and edit "Derma Sutra (1891)" (which I really am pleased with, by the way; I think I found a new flavour of me with it), proof Geoffrey's very excellent interview with Richard A. Kirk, and deal with the layout, in a state of consciousness that can best be described as zombiefied. There were a couple of lines from the interview with Rick I wanted to post here, because I just found it brilliant:

Our perception of the universe is like a tiny house floating on an endless sea. We sit inside this thing we have constructed, completely unaware of what lies outside, hoping that whatever is out there never gets curious enough to poke its nose under the door.

And if you'd like to get #32, subscribe sometime in the next week, and you'll get it.

And today is Lughnasadh. Spooky and I had planned to do a ritual out at Beavertail, but I think we're both still pretty exhausted from yesterday's Big Push, so we're playing it by ear. We'll at least bake a loaf of something, at the very least. I so desperately want to find a coven, and one reason is so that we do not have to be solely responsible for the details of ceremony on every sabbat and esabat. But, that brings me back around to either facing the not insignificant problem of finding a group that is comfortable with my unorthodox views (and vice versa) or trying to found my own coven built upon those views (Panthalassa, diminished emphasis on gender polarity, inclusion of a Divine Androgyne aspect as part of the "tripartite" Goddess, a move away from anthropomorphic deities, removal of the distinction between left- and right-hand paths, and so forth).

Anyway, when the work was finally done yesterday, I lay down on the chaise with Dr. Muñoz to try to read a few more pages of Fraser's Triassic book while Spooky fixed dinner (a stirfry of green beans, red bell pepper, zucchini, fresh basil, and ground chicken), but I dozed almost immediately. Spooky woke me for dinner. Later, but not too late, there was a really excellent bit of rp in the "Kingdom of Sand" sim (thank you Badra, Lina, Hela, and Sev), that pretty much exemplified what it is I've come to SL looking for and which sort of renewed my faith in the inherent potential of SL as an interactive story-telling tool, just when that faith was at an all-time low. In fact, I may clean up the transcript from the rp, add a few embellishments here and there, and post it behind a cut in this journal. It was really a splendid little series of scenes, first in the throne room of the palace in Ireem, then, later, in the Tower of Serpents (where the Magi practice). Nothing too profound. No fireworks. No sex. Just simple, good, solid rp/story telling. Anyway, about one a.m., I was falling asleep at the keyboard, and I crawled away to the front parlor and put Danny Boyle's Sunshine in the DVD player, as it has become one of my "comfort films." I dozed while it played, awakening for bits here and there. I remember waking to hear Cassie say, "Only dream I ever have...is the surface of the sun. Every time I shut my eyes, it's always the same." And finally I awoke near the end, as Capa is struggling in the bulky EVA suit to reach the payload, and, half awake, I lay there and marveled at the score and what a beautiful thing this vastly underrated film is (my next Mac will be named Icarus). Then I went to bed. And slept and slept and slept.

I should wrap this up. I've been ignoring email for two days, and I should ignore it no longer. Please have a look at the current eBay auctions (two of which end this afternoon), and please, please do pre-order a copy of the mass-market paperback edition of Daughter of Hounds. The platypus will probably thank you. I know that I shall.

Postcript (2:26 p.m.): It just occurred to me that I neglected to note in the new issue of the Digest that "Derma Sutra (1891)" was written entirely to just one song by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds —— "Lovely Creature." I did manage to work the title into the story, but wish I'd remembered to acknowledge the song in the issue itself. I kept count (thank you iPod) of how many times I listened to the song while writing the story —— 104 times in 4 days (that's about seven hours worth of the song).

So, yes. Today I can make the Second Big Announcement (you will recall Beowulf was the first). In the spring of 2008, Subterranean Press will release the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder, as trade and limited hardbacks. I am more excited about this than I have been about any project in quite some while. The book will include all the stories, etc. from the Gauntlet (1999) and Meisha Merlin (2002) editions, plus a new story and a new author's introduction. All Richard Kirk's interior illustrations will be reprinted, and my great thanks to Rick for tracking down good scans these thirteen images, as he long ago sold the original artwork to collectors. There will be a new cover (artist to be announced). It is my intention that this will be, at last, the true definitive edition of the text, and all the horrid errors that somehow crept into the Meisha Merlin edition (despite my painstaking copyediting) will be excised.

That said, many will be asking what then is to become of my plans for a free electronic edition of the book? In short, those plans have been shelved, at least for the life of the subpress edition. In the meanwhile, I will be releasing a free electronic edition of The Dry Salvages instead, under a Creative Commons license. Regardless, my thanks to everyone who volunteered, months ago, to do the annotations for an e-version of Tales of Pain and Wonder.

Yesterday almost felt like a "normal" day. The Beowulf page proofs went back in the mail to HarperCollins (well, back in the UPS). I tried to write, and spent most of the day trying to write, but in the end scrapped everything I'd done. Sometimes that happens. I spoke with my lit agent about contracts, as we have contracts in the works for my next two novels with Penguin, the new edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder, and The Dinosaurs of Mars. We had a very good walk at sunset. The sky was filled with swallows, and when we reached Inman Park, Spooky spotted the slimmest silver-grey rind of the waxing moon, just visible in the western sky. Back home, I read more of Chris Beard's book on early primates. I napped and bathed. Later, we spent two or three hours in Second Life, erecting the glass and steel walls of the Palaeozoic Museum's atrium in New Babbage. I'll post some images here soon. It is going to be amazing. blu_muse ("Cerdwin Flanagan") dropped in while we were building, and much virtual silliness ensued. Later still, I crawled away to bed, and Spooky read me Chapter Seven of The Ersatz Elevator by Lemony Snicket, which we have long neglected (bad kids). So, yes, a "normal" day. And I even got a good night's sleep.

Spooky just returned from the p.o., and the platypus is chomping at the bit. So I will wrap this up. Oh, my thanks to everyone who bid and bought in the latest round of eBay auctions. Okay. Onward, platypus.

Postscript (3:50 p.m.): Spooky's trying to get back into the eBay habit, as the boxes of my books are beginning to take over the house (and the money's always nice). She had relisted The Five of Cups (trade hardcover, PC), along with one of my last five copies of From Weird and Distant Shores (trade hardcover, PC) and a copy of Daughter of Hounds. Regarding the latter, I have only a very few of these to sell, so there is no "buy it now" feature. All books can be signed and personalised at the buyer's request. Just click here for auctions! Thanks.