Caitlín R. Kiernan

Thank you scarletboi. The beta of the revamped website is up, including the ~30-second "teaser" trailer for The Drowning Girl. Still photography by kylecassidy, video by briansiano, my directorial debut, Nicola Astles as Imp, Sara Murphy as Eva Canning, and mermaid artwork by the astounding Michael Zulli. Of course, this couldn't have happened without all the amazing people who donated to our Kickstarter fund. Thank you. The full-length trailer will be posted in March, just prior to the book's release. So, without further ado:

The New Website 1.0

This is one of those rare mornings when I wake freezing, shivering, headachey, just shy of full-blown hypothermia, somehow having divested myself of all the blankets in the throes of this or that bad dream. And then I need two hours to get warm. Only, according to Spooky, I was actually being a bed hog, and if I'm cold it's my own damn fault.

Yesterday, I did an interview. An important interview. But I cannot yet say for whom or where it will appear. I will tell you as soon as I can. But it ate up more of the day than it should have. Also, I've gotten bloody sick of talking about myself. It's a little easier to talk about Imp or Sarah or Dancy, and almost as accurate since they're all overlapping aspects of me, anyway. To all prospective interviewers and would-be biographers of Me, I say to you, the only biography that's worth a good goddamn, the only truth-be-told, must first be filtered and fictionalized. You reduce the lives of women and men down to mere fact and history, and mostly you'll be left with the banal; if you're lucky, you'll get monotonous tragedy. Mythologize, though, and at least tragedy will seem noble, and even mundanity may be transformed and redeemed.

I am a writer, and my lot in life is to lie constantly, all the while never failing to tell the truth.

Today, I go back to work on "The Lost Language of Mollusca and Crustacea," and hopefully finish it. It will come in Sirenia Digest #73, with a great illustration by Vince Locke, plus Chapter Two of the original (scrapped) attempt to write Silk, plus (!, I hope) a new science-fiction story. I hope. Maybe.

Yesterday, I saw the colored pages for one of the Alabaster stories, colored by Rachelle Rosenberg, and wow.

An announcement. Every morning, or early afternoon, or mid afternoon, I spend anywhere from one to three hours on this journal. An hour and a half is about average, but let's say an hour, because round numbers are easier. That means I journalize seven hours a week, twenty-eight hours a month, three hundred and sixty-five hours a year (or about 15.2 days; and, in truth, a considerably larger sum). Think of all the stories or vignettes or work on novels I could get done in that time. And I've been doing this for more than eleven years, almost every single day! So, I'm thinking that after March, after the release of The Drowning Girl, I'm going to cease this every-goddamn-day blogging thing, this wearisome cataloging of the humdrum events of my humdrum life, and reserve the LJ for news of forthcoming books and of occasional interesting trips, saving untold hours that can be devoted to work, waking up, staring out the window, reading the day's news, et aliae. It's unlikely I'll change my mind.

It's looking now like the "teaser" trailer for The Drowning Girl will go live until January 3rd, due to web-design issues. We have everything in place, it just has to be assembled. The new front page of my website, that is. The thirty-second trailer is edited and ready to post (thank you, Brian!).

Yesterday, well, not much else to tell. I read a pretty good story by David Barr Kirtley (whom, I admit, I'd never heard of before), and before bed I read Stuart Moore's graphic-novel story loosely based on Thomas Ligotti's "The Last Feast of Harlequin (2007), as illustrated by Colleen Doran (I worked with her on an issue of The Dreaming, but, offhand, I can't recall which one). I napped. I watched a PBS documentary on the AZORIAN Project and the 1974 attempt to raise the sunken Soviet submarine K-129. I played Star Wars: The Old Republic. And there was other stuff.

And now, I go forth to think on bivalves and cephalopods.

Warm Now,
Aunt Beast

Skimp on one journal entry, everything piles up. Outside it's very cold. Well, very cold if you're me. 43˚F, and the low tonight will be 22˚F (-5.5 C). This might come out all higgledy piggledy (double dactyl!), but at least it will be a higgledy-piggledy list.

[One-hour pause to install iTunes 10.5.1, which should have been easy, but wasn't.]

1. Yesterday we saw Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. Marvelous. If Ritchie's making Holmes purists uncomfortable, more power to him. A Game of Shadows was at least as smart, and funny, and as fine a box of eye candy as Sherlock Holmes (2009). Oh, and lots of deftly inserted (cough, cough) gay innuendo, so booya. Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law, I love you. Great chess, too. Eight tentacles up.

2. Last night, late, I finished with Stephen Jones' A Book of Horrors. All I had left to go was Robert Shearman's very good Machenesque "A Child's Problem," Dennis Etchinson's pleasantly odd and wistful piece "Tell Me I'll See You Again," and Richard Christian Mathenson's somewhat delightfully sadistic "Last Words." The latter might have served as a fitting bit for Sirenia Digest. I don't read much contemporary horror, but A Book of Horrors is a solid volume (plus, you get my piece, "Charcloth, Firesteel and Flint").

3. Thursday evening was cold, windy, and the sky spat rain. That would have been the first day of the vacation, yes? This day is the third. But I sort of did some work during the day, unless I misremember...which is always a possibility. Later, we visited the RISD Art Gallery (and got our nephew, Miles, a very bow-tie book for Solstice), then went out to get supplies (for both Spooky and me) at Jerry's Artarama*, then stopped near Brown and got delicious food from Mama Kim's Korean BBQ for dinner. It was worth huddling under my umbrella for.

4. Yesterday, UPS brought my copy of Star Wars: The Old Republic, and I recreated my Twi'lek Sith inquisitor Herazade and began leveling again. Made it to nine. I really am loving this game. Utterly bow tie, despite my initial predictions and impressions. However, a caveat: Why can game designers not rid us of the ubiquitous MMORPG silly hop? Have they never noted how humanoids jump? Generally, pushing off and up with the ball/toe of one foot, then landing with their opposite/s. Simple anatomy. Hopping up and down with bowed legs looks idiotic, and it's everywhere, except in console games, where a better knowledge of functional anatomy seems to prevail. The standing jump, of course, would be an exception, but, in most situations, standing jumps are rare, and may not serve here as an explanation or excuse.

5. Tonight, we see Brown Bird play at the Met in Pawtucket, and our Honourary Gentleman Caller, readingthedark, will be joining us for the musical shenanigans. Gonna rock.

6. Since we'd let our Audible.com credits back up, I downloaded three books the other day: first, Harlan reading his own Edgeworks Volume 1 – which is a delight – William Gibson's Neuromancer; and Paolo Bacigalupi The Wind-Up Girl. The last is the only I've not read, but I have great hopes. Of course, I'm not reading here, but listening, which is a distinctly different experience. Since I was a very, very small child I have savoured having stories and novels read to me. Unlike ebooks, audiobooks are bow tie.

7. Right now, plans are that the "teaser" trailer for The Drowning Girl: A Memoir will go live at 12 ayem EST (1 ayem CaST) on January 1st, New Year's Day. It will appear at that moment on my LiveJournal, as well as YouTube, Vimeo, etc. I will ask people to repost and embed it and link to it and spread it far and wide. I need the front page of my website redesigned for this book, but presently have no options. If anyone is willing to offer their web-fu for a FREE signed and inscribed copy of the book, email me at greygirlbeast(at)gmail(dot)com and we'll work something out.

And that is all! No more words! Vakayshun!

Leisurely,
Aunt Beast

* In The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, Imp works at Jerry's.

Yesterday, I did 1,035 words on "Werewolf Smile," but did not find THE END. This one is determined to go on as long as ever it pleases, despite my own needs. I admit I feel a little lost in it, in the dark folds of this story. Last night, I read the whole thing aloud to Spooky, and she liked it, and it works far better than I thought. I also sent it to sovay and readingthedark, for additional opinions. But it has to be finished today. I think I am developing a dread of the final scene.

Also yesterday. I agreed to do two short readings during this weekend's Fledgling Festival here in Providence, which is being held at the Perishable Theater on Empire Street. I'll be reading both Saturday and Sunday nights. Likely, it will be material from either Frog Toes and Tentacles or Tales from the Woeful Platypus. So, those of you who were asking about Providence appearances, well here's your first chance.

Frankly, the next few days are sort of terrifying to contemplate. I have to finish "Werewolf Smile," and then write a new vignette for Sirenia Digest #45. I have to do the readings this weekend, and an interview for Amazon.com. And I have to get Sirenia Digest #45 out to subscribers. Tuesday, I'm not doing anything, if I can still move by then.

Please have a look at the current round of eBay auctions. Thanks.

Tonight, I hope to get in some work on the website, more evidence relating to The Red Tree.

Come on, platypus. We're burning daylight.

Summer has finally come to Providence, and with a vengeance. Right now, the temperature inside and Outside are identical, 82F. Well, that's the temperature out in the middle parlour, where Dr. Muñoz is blasting, vainly trying to combat the heat. It's likely warmer here in my office. The lights are off, to make it at least seem cooler. After I finish this, and get dressed, we're fleeing the House for genuine air conditioning.

Nothing was written yesterday. Nothing was written again.

But I was confronted with the curious proposition that the cover of The Red Tree may be off-putting to some men. It's off-putting to me, but for purely artistic reasons, and because it's not appropriate in tone to the novel. But I'm getting off track. The following comments were made on Facebook (I'm withholding the commentators name), and I quote:

The cover for The Red Tree is well done, but it practically commands, “You, male child, don’t buy me.” I’ll bet nearly all of your male readers will buy it online and consider it a “guilty pleasure.”

I was on the plane the other day, reading a book of the same genre. (You could tell from the cover: pretty young woman in black, looking down and away, full moon and glowing gothic hoodoo behind her.) And I could feel how I was making the man to my left (with the competently written spy/cop novel) uncomfortable. The power of marketing...(ellipses divide two comments)...It's well done for what it is, I should say. I've seen much worse. But, yeah, it's a "paranormal romance" cover. Men aren't supposed to read those. If you buy one at Barnes and Noble, you need to have an it's-for-my-girlfriend/wife/niece excuse ready in case you get a male cashier (or a female who gives you a curious look).

Now, first off, this all seems awfully sexist to me. Or maybe not necessarily sexist, but certainly smacking of male insecurities. But secondly and most importantly, I spent a good deal of the day worrying whether or not it might be true. Has Roc, by marketing this novel with the generic "paranormal romance" cover (it is not, of course, a PR novel), alienated potential male readers? It seems absurd, but then much of human behaviour seems absurd to me. Most, in fact. So, here's the question: Do you think this cover is geared towards a female readership and is off-putting to male readers? Sort of a two-part question, I suppose.

I'm going to discuss this matter with my lit agent when she returns from her summer vacation.

Spooky has begun a new round of eBay auctions.

Also, there's a new bit of "evidence" up on the website, the addition of Plate XX.

Officially too hot to continue. Maybe I'll go sit beneath a cold shower. Maybe I will spend the day dreaming of icy moons, their oceans safe below the rime.

Blah. Not getting enough sleep. Staying up too late. Right now, I choose to blame Season Two of Dexter, which we're racing through. I love that the superhero subtext I saw right from the start has become overt. And Keith Carradine is just cool.

Anyway, for those of you who do not follow my Twitter or Facebook accounts, where things sort of happen (strangely) in "real time," yesterday's shoot in Boston (for The Red Tree "trailer") was canceled at the last minute for fear of rain. Which meant having to scramble desperately to find a rain date that would work for everyone involved. Turns out, that will be Tuesday. Problem is, yesterday was cool and cloudy (and rainy, alas), while today and tomorrow will be hot and sunny. Oh, and as I noted yesterday on Facebook, I should point out the slightly unsettling numerical coincidences at work here. The last dated "entry" in the novel is on August 4th. Book release came up on August 4th. Now, we'll (hopefully) be shooting the trailer on August 4th. And there are others, but I'll stop there.

By the time we knew that we wouldn't be going to Boston, most of the day was already gone. So, Spooky and I checked to see if the Barnes and Noble in Warwick (which we think is the only one in Rhode Island) had already shelved The Red Tree), even though tomorrow is the release date. They had, of course. And since the box with my comp copies is very late, we drove down to Warwick and actually bought a copy. Yes, I paid cover price, plus tax, for my own book. Well, Spooky did. I was too embarrassed. But at least that's one sold. And I now know that all the corrections and formatting appear to be fixed (the ARCs were a mess). So, that was a huge relief.

I am so bloody tired of obsessing over the Amazon sales rank. But one of the few patterns I can actually discern is that during the hours when I tweet the book or website's URL, sales go up. When I don't it starts to drop. Now, no one knows, when it goes up, if that's one copy or eight hundred, because Amazon keeps that shit secret for fear of...well...whatever. For fear of not pissing me off. But I'm coming to a place very, very soon, where I'm just going to have to stop and let the figures do what the figures do. I'm micromanaging myself to a frazzle. I'm a writer, not a promoter.

Speaking of which, if you're in the Boston/Providence area, and ever want t see me read from The Red Tree, or want a signed copy, you'll likely want to be at the Pandemonium Books signing at 7 p.m. on Thursday evening. That's Pandemonium Books & Games, 4 Pleasant Street, Cambridge, MA 02139. Phone: 617-547-3721. This will very possibly be my only East Coast signing for the book.

And now...there's work I'm not getting done. But I do have a couple of photos:

( Numbers and Books )

Merce Cunningham, the choreographer, has died at age 90.

Somewhat balmy day here in Providence. I should have already put my hair up, but I haven't. After this entry, if I can last that long. The sky is a dappled mix of clouds and blue.

Yesterday, I began a piece I'm calling "January 28, 1926," and wrote a very respectable 1,346 words. So, quite a good writing day. Sirenia Digest #44 is quickly coming together. Late last night, Vince sent me a sketch, his plan for the illustration for "Vicaria Draconis," and it's looking great. So, yes, two new vignettes this month, plus a new guest poet who shares my love of cephalopods.

A new page has appeared on the website, under evidence. It showed up on Saturday night, actually, but I decided to wait and see if anyone else noticed it before I said anything. This seemed more prudent. But, to my knowledge, no one has noticed it. Under evidence, read back over Plate XV, then note the links at the bottom of the page. Not the one on the left, nor the one on the right, but the one in the center. And no, that's not the book trailer. And if all these answers are beginning to vex you, be patient. The questions are coming.

Last night I made the mistake of perusing what's called "paranormal romance" on Amazon.com. If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you've already heard my reaction. I seem to live in some sort of self-imposed state of literary asylum. I had no idea there was so much of this crap, or that it sold so well, or that it was so awful. I go to some of the bestsellers, which are, by the way, bestsellers, and cannot read a single sentence aloud without laughing, a reaction I'm fairly certain the authors were not trying to elicit. I'm not talking badly written; I'm not sure this stuff is written, at all. And no, I won't name names. That's poor form. But looking at all this junk, I felt so utterly, oddly defeated. Just seeing how people are lapping up this pablum, I never wanted to write another word (and yet, here I am, babbling away). Several things occurred to me, scanning the pages of Book 15 in a series by some woman who brags about writing three novels a year (on average). One of the thoughts is something that I've been saying for many years, that vampires are no longer monsters, no longer an incarnation of the Other. They have, instead, become primarily a socially acceptable expression of humanity's collective, if latent, necrophilia. Much the same way that zombies are in danger of becoming clowns, vampires are the daemon lover no one really wants to admit is a demon.

And a second thought, I'd be willing to bet you green folding money that a high percentage of the women (and men) who get off on "paranormal romance," who find all this werewolf/vamp/angel/mermaid/fairie/dragon/fluffy-bunny "otherkin" soft core so very titillating are also staunchly anti-GLBT. For example, we could start with a certain Mormon...oh, wait. I said I wouldn't name names. But, you know where I'm headed with this. I'll fuck a dead man (or woman) who drinks blood, this undead serial killer, and I really get off on stories about crime-fighting werewolves doing the nasty with dragons who are actually fairies pretending to be twentysomething human women with anorexia. But, ewwwwwww, men with men? Women with women? Transsexuals? The Bible says that's wrong.

Anyway, damned depressing stuff. grandmofhelsing observed that "paranormal romance" is "erotic horror" that is neither erotic nor horrific, which seems about right. And I suppose this is one reason that Sirenia Digest doesn't have a million subscribers. I know I'm shooting myself in the foot, sure, but I feel it's my sworn duty to write books and stories and vignettes that would never in a million years appeal to the consumers of "paranormal romance" (I shall not again call them "readers"). There is awe and wonder, terrible beauty and mystery, in the dark places, but you'll never see any of it if you're afraid to turn off the lights.

Only nine days (counting today), until the release of The Red Tree. Have you had another look at Plate 15 yet?

Oh, and the Very Special Auction continues.

And now I must go remember unpleasantries that may have occurred early in 1926, and late in 1919, and write it all down.

I'm pretty sure that a retinue of fairies came while I slept and glued my eyelids shut. After they pummeled my feet with tiny bags filled with tinier pennies.

And, just before I woke, there was that dream, me in a wheelchair, trapped inside a vast, maze-like complex that Jerry Falwell had built to teach creationism, while outside, in the darkness, Godzilla burnt some city to the ground.

And people expect me to be frakking coherent in the morning.

But...I have the solace of my iced coffee. And Pandora Radio. And the comfort that comes with knowing there are no interviews today. Yesterday's turned out to be a telephone interview, which are the worst sort. I knew it was to be by phone, but I'd forgotten.

Speaking of The Red Tree, did I mention the snazzy T-shirts, now available from Ziraxia?

The Red Tree t-shirt by Humglum. Check it out at Ziraxia t shirts!

Also, we've decided to auction one copy of the ARC (advance-reading copy) of The Red Tree. Only one, mind you. And you won't only be bidding on the ARC. You'll also be bidding on an actual prop from the book trailer, presently listed as Plate XIII on the website. The auction will begin later today. Or maybe tomorrow. I'll let you know when it starts.

Anyway...yesterday. After the fourth interview of the week was done, and various other bits of the busyness of writing had been attended to, Spooky and I fled the House for any part of South County bordering the sea. We ended up in Narragansett. The tourists were bad, but the smell of the sea was good. We had dinner at Iggy's, then drove down to the granite jetty at Harbor of Refuge. And that's when I got stupid and took a pretty bad tumble off a wall of the old fort, down onto a slab of concrete. I misjudged a rock that looked stable, but wasn't. Now, long ago, when I was just starting college, and spending much time in rock quarries with high, precipitous walls, I took a climbing course with a bunch of other geology students. And one of the first things we learned is still ingrained in my mind. It went something like this: The first rule of falling? Never fall. The second rule of falling? Everyone falls, so fall well. The third rule of falling? Having fallen, be sure your not injured before you move. And even though it's been much more than two decades, everything I learned about falling well still kicks in, when I happen to fall. Which is to say, I wasn't injured, just mostly embarrassed. I lay still, fearing I'd broken my ankle, waiting for the shock and superficial pain to pass, so I could tell Spooky I wasn't dead. I opened my eyes, and a damn seagull was soaring directly overhead, laughing at me. Once it became clear I was fine, we walked to a less rocky place, sat on the sand and watched the sun setting over the placid harbor, and the waves breaking over the jetty.

We got home about 9:30 p.m. There are photos:

( 23 July 2009 )

Okay, platypus says I gotta go. More promo work to do before we meet sovay and ericmvan for Birdsongs of the Mesozoic tonight.

So, first off, I am announcing that the re-relaunch of the website occurred last night. This is, of course, a preface to the re-re-relaunch that comes along later. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My great thanks to Christopher Simmons (scarletboi), who was on the phone with us after 1 a.m. last night, getting everything just right. So, yes, it's very much focused on The Red Tree (and if you've not already pre-ordered the novel, today's your chance).

I think summer has finally arrived in Providence. It's actually hot in the house. I think I'm actually sweating.

And for some reason I have been tweeting and whatever it is one does over at Facebook (booking?) about my very small tail this morning, which is evidence, at the very least, that I am not exactly awake.

Today, I begin work on a new vignette for Sirenia Digest #44. When it's done, I stop and, belatedly, get the book trailer done, and then I have to write the second vignette for Sirenia Digest #44. I have only 14 days to get all these things (and various others) done. Then, for my next trick, I shall pull something intelligent from Sarah Palin's mouth.

And speaking of magic, yesterday we saw David Yates' Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. This was one of my favorite books of the series, my last favorite book of the series, and I think Yates more than does it justice. He has corrected many of the odd twitches and unfortunate shortcomings of J.K. Rowling's novel. Yes, there are important things that get skipped over, but gods, this is a 2.5 hour film made from a 652-page novel (that could have been at least 200 pages shorter, by the way). Myself, I find the idea of adapting a novel of that size into a screenplay an utterly terrifying proposition. If I ever adapt a novel for the screen, it will be a short novel. Anyway, the film manages a wonderful sort of majesty, and gives to the characters a dignity that I'm not sure is present in the book. The cinematography and art direction are exquisite, and I was especially impressed with the film's pacing. Despite having such a vast tale to tell, the director takes the time not to rush from plot point to plot point. Some very fine performances, especially from Jim Broadbent, Michael Gambon, Alan Rickman (swoon), Helena Bonham Carter, and Tom Felton. Yes, this film actually manged to make me care about Draco Malfoy. Indeed, one of the most delightful aspects of this film is the way it has managed to imbue the characters with a sort of humanity and depth they have often lacked, both in the novels and in earlier films. It's just splendid, and I strongly recommend it. Seeing Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, I now have some hope that Yates, in the last two films, may discover a fitting ending to this story, which I don't think Rowling managed to do. Sadly, poor Daniel Radcliffe remains as dull as dishwater, but it's a problem inherent in his role. Surely, Harry is one of the least interesting protagonists in the history of fantasy, surrounded by infinitely more interesting and charismatic characters.

Not much else to yesterday, really. Except that I seem to have discovered that the only two novels I want to read (or be read from) these days are House of Leaves and We Have Always Lived in the Castle.

Oh, and the car's acting up, and has to go into the garage today, so we will not be joining readingthedark for the VNV Nation show in Boston tonight. But I think I do get to join sovay and ericmvan for Birdsongs of the Mesozoic on Thursday.

If you've not already, please do have a look at the current eBay auctions, the proceeds of which are going towards production costs for The Red Tree trailer. Thanks.

And I think that's all for now. Hope you find the new website intriguing. I've become obsessed with the analytics thing that Chris set up for me, allowing me to track who is looking at the page and from where and how often and so on and so forth.

Time to make the doughnuts.....

Gagh, I can't wake up today. I think there was just too much work yesterday, too many different sorts of work. We had actually talked about getting out of bed and making the 11:45 a.m. matinée of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, but, well, that didn't happen. We're aiming for tomorrow, instead. And this needs to be short, because the day ahead of me is long and baffling and has many twists and turns, and doesn't even involve actual, you know, writing. The writing will likely resume tomorrow. It pretty much has to, or I'm going to find myself disastrously behind.

Quick recap of yesterday. Well, there was a piece I had to write for my editor, about the writing of The Red Tree, something for the Penguin website. That actually turned out rather well. She was pleased with it. And after that, I had an interview, which also went well, I think. The older I get, the odder interviews seem to me. The questions all begin to bleed together, and I find myself wanting to talk about quasars or stag beetles or plate tectonics or just about anything at all except my books and writing. No, I have no idea why, really. And there was a lot of email yesterday, more than usual, and it looks as though today will be much the same. Actually, I must have written at least 3,000 words yesterday, just none of it fiction. Did I say "Gagh"? Spooky and I both put in a good bit of time getting things ready for the re-relaunch of the website.

Speaking of which, here is a small but, I think, valuable piece of advice to the readers of this blog. If you don't approve of how I've done something —— the website, for example —— there is a couth and appropriate recourse which will allow you to express your opinion. Email me. It's not at all hard to find my email address, but, just in case I'm somehow mistaken on that count, I'll post it here again: greygirlbeast(at)gmail(dot)com. Email me and tell me your thoughts, if you feel the need to do so. I'll read the email. I might even write back. Hell, I might even agree. However, if, instead, you blurt out something in the comments here on the LJ, you will discover that I am far less receptive to your advice. In fact, odds are, I will delete the comment, and if you've been rude enough, I will ban you from commenting in the future. This very scenario actually occurred on Friday morning, as I was trying to get out the door for Readercon, which is why I closed down comments to one particular entry. If the most tactful way you are capable of expressing yourself is to tell me something "sucks," and to tell me publicly, yes, you will be banned.

Now, this sort of thing has only happened a very few times. My ban list on LJ is extremely short. Maybe six or seven people, at most, over five years. I like comments. I like comments a lot, but I don't like rude and unsolicited criticism. Thank you.

A brief aside, for whatever it's worth, a shout out to ericmvan. You've done a marvelous job with Readercon, and I, for one, completely understand and sympathize with what you're saying about not being able to keep up this pace, needing to scale back for a year while a team is trained to do the job.

Also, I'm reposting the following, as it only made it into yesterday's entry as a postcript: Thanks to Franklin Harris (grandmofhelsing) for bringing this Readercon write up to my attention ("Some important things/people that I saw/met/learned/heard about at Readercon" at Time.com). I quote: "I didn't talk to Caitlín Kiernan, but I watched her swanning around in a tentacled mask and grey lipstick, and I felt awe. It is so important that cons have freakish people at them." I'm going to take this as a compliment. Did I "swan" around? There is an Old English meaning of the word, "to wander about without purpose, but with an air of superiority." So maybe I did swan around. Bjork and I, we swan. Also, the lipstick was green. Regardless, good to be mentioned, and yes, I am a freak, and I'm pleased the author included the fada in my name.

Which reminds me of something funny that came up at Readercon. Years and years ago, someone actually referred to me as "the Oscar Wilde of fantasy." Yep, they really did. As readingthedark said this past weekend, now I only have to be considered "the William Gibson of science fiction, or the Stephen King of horror."

And how come I never saw the page devoted to my writing that's up at fantasyliterature.net? It includes one of the best reviews I've ever read of Daughter of Hounds. I haven't yet had time to read their review of Silk. Actually, Spooky read me the review of Daughter of Hounds late last night, after she stumbled upon the page.

And, finally, we're trying to raise just a little cash to help out with the book trailer by beginning another round of eBay auctions. Have a look, and bid if you are able and so disposed. And yes, I'm covering all the expenses of the video production myself. I can't recall if I've said that already or not.

Anyway...off to milk the platypus.