they must need bears

1500 words on Seven for a Secret today. I pause now to consider the Ebil Antagonist, and ways to make him more interesting than merely Ebil.

I'm still having a hard time believing that I'm able to just sit down on work on things again, without  every word being a painful uphill battle. I suspect I could still use some time off to recover from the Great Neurochemical Upheaval of 2008, and I'm still kind of feeling uninspired and like there's a lot of toil involved in getting the words out and not a lot of joy and inspiration, but right now that's okay and I'll take it. This is normal writing-related hard work, and I'm just fine with that. I mean, it's not the most fun I've ever had, and I'm not in love wth every glowing semicolon as I lay it perfect on the page. But it doesn't always have to be on fire.

And the fact of the matter is, when you go back and revise it, you can't tell. You can't tell (with rare exceptions) which pages came on a rush of inspiration, which you put together with consideration and craftsmanship, which ones you fought every slogging inch of the way.

Right now, I am content just to not be pushing through crisis after crisis, while writing things that I am more or less happy with.

It'll do for now. It'll do.

---

And because I am reading books about cities and faeries, it seems....

Book Report #98: Delia Sherman, The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen (draft)

Oh, you are so jealous of me.


Book Report #99: Marie Brennan, Midnight Never Come

Because 2008 is the year of the  Volcano Asteroid Impact Alarmingly Well-Researched Elizabethan Faerie Novel. And because swan_tower rocks, she sent me a copy of Midnight Never Come so I could enjoy it, now that Ink & Steel is safely on the way to the newstands. (We really went out of our way to keep from knowing too much about what the other one was doing, and I am pleased to note that while there are points of congruence, we managed to independently pick the alternative "London Will Never Fall So Long As X Condition Pertains" legends. Go team us.

These are not kinder, gentler faeries. Really they're not.

Progress notes for 9 April 2008

Seven for a Secret:

New words: 2003
Microsoft wordcount: 2155
Manuscript wordcount: 2750
Deadline: July 1
Mammalian assistance: The cat is cold. The cat does not want to be covered. She just wants to bitch at me about being cold. 
Reason for stopping: Quota, and I have some reading I need to do.




Darling du jour:

He didn't believe his own lies anymore. He hadn't for decades. His artifices had grown shallow, without structure or craft.

He could no longer inhabit them. Not the way these girls, a medium-blonde and a paler blonde, inhabited their uniforms and the tissue of lies that constructed them.

Tyop du jour: They interred no stores.

Thank you, brain, but that's not the right word that sounds sort of like that.

Jury-rigging: Everything seems to be firing smoothly so far. I suspect I need an antagonist.
There's always one more quirk in the character:  Somebody is dissociating.

Today's words Word don't know:  wampyr, flyte
Words I'm Surprised Word Do Know: n/a
Sustenance: coffee, chamomile tea, leftovers, bagel chips, pistachios, cereal. I am about to order a pizza.
Mean Things: invalidism, Nazis.
Other writing-related work: about to go start critiquing a novel. did a whole bunch of research.

Exercise: none. I am in pain. (Okay, there was archery yesterday. I guess that counts.)
Miles to Lothlorien: 174.9
Guitar practice: no, because I suck.
Mail: nomail
The Internet is Full of Things: via rachelmanija, Green Porno. (Not worksafe, if you didn't get that from the title. But oh, so cool. I want to have Isabella Rossellini's babies.)

Boy, what a beautiful morning. High thirties into low forties, clear and crisp, everything in bloom. Just gorgeous.

Two and a half miles this morning, and I did my first mile in 14:59. If you think I am smug about it, you would be right. Then the nine-minute loop of the park (I think it's actually longer than a half-mile, but gmaps pedometer says it's not), and then some stretching, and then mostly-walked the mile home in 16:47. I justify this to myself by means of the scorching (for me) time on the run out, the fact that I was going to stay home this morning, the fact that my shins and calves hurt, and sheer laziness. Also, it really is a pretty morning.

Climbing last night was better than Monday, despite ongoing lack of strength and soreness issues in my right arm. That traverse that I couldn't do and then I could do? I can't do it again, so I still have not finished that damned blue 5.7. Even though it's a short wall, it's tricky. I did however finish a fairly long 5.7 with a similar traverse that used to completely kick my ass (and I felt secure the whole time, though I had to stop and rest), and also a 5.7 and a 5.6 on the slab, both of which I have done before. I tried a 5.8 and couldn't get off the ground, so I fell back and did the 5.6 on the same wall, which is sort of a bunny wall overhang. It's overhung, but you can barely tell. Still, it will help make me strong enough that I can tackle the overhang on the black 5.7 that is my other project wall. The Jeff is after me to try a 5.7 on the tree wall that he likes. It looks like absolutely no fun at all, but I will probably adopt that one as a new project once I finish one of these other two. It has to happen sooner or later, right?

I have a hell of a bruise on the palm of my left hand. Wheeugh. No idea how I got it, either.

189.9 miles to Lothlorien.

In other news, I appear to be cured. Right. Not taking those pills any more. Man. It's been donwright pleasant and spacious inside my head for the last two days.

And now I need a shower and some food and tea and some work on "The Red in the Sky is Our Blood," which is standing at around 1000 words currently. Because hey, progress is good.

Never has the subtitle of this blog (it's a great life if you don't weaken) felt more appropriate. Jeepers.

The progress notes will be informal today.

I was going to give myself a day off from running today, but I woke up at 6 am raring to go, so I got up and drank some water and answered my email and put my shoes on. I jogged the entire first mile (at a crawl, mind you) with the exception of the first two blocks, which I walked as a warmup. It was cold out--widget on my taskbar says 28 degrees F--and since I was out there by 7:20, the light was beautiful. Still, a whole mile! My cardio was great at the end of it, too--I took five minutes to stretch and recover, but I didn't really need them. I did make myself stretch for the whole five minutes though, temptations aside.

And then I ran/walked back on fire hydrant intervals (five of them) and took the last three blocks as a cool down. Time out: 16 minutes. Time back: 13 minutes. So when I say that joggy bit was a crawl, it was a crawl.

I was pretty ineffectual at the climbing gym last night--four routes, including a 5.7 I didn't finish. There's a traverse out from under a corner that is killing me. Also, I did a 5.5 with a small overhang that was the first route I ever sent, way back wen, and did not fall off the place where I always fall off. (Yeah, it's only a 5.5, but it's a 5.5 that involves dragging yourself out from under a corner with only one foothold, which is in a bad place.) Scraped up my right arm pretty good falling off a climb on the slab wall, but got back on the horse and finished it. Go team me.

The climbs helped break up the lingering anxiety. Some of it was back this morning, but I'm hoping the run will have taken it out of me. And I have PT today, and ashacat and I are going to see Jonathan Coulton tonight, so--those will also help.

On to the stuff that may actually interest some of you. I talked to my agent last night and got permission to suspend work on Chill for a while. Whether this means I won't make the June 1 deadline or not, I don't know yet. We'll see what happens in May. But I'm giving the book the rest of April to percolate, in the hopes that that will help me work through some of my issues surrounding it.

In further proof that it is, in fact, this damned novel that is killing me, I woke up this morning not only in a mood to write, but with a head full of stuff for the scene in "Ballistic" that I was swearing only yesterday I could in no wise write, for lo I was a burnout case and probably should be taken out behind the chemical sheds and put out of everyone's misery. I also figured out in the car last night (I should really list the Moby Smurfberry as my co-author, I do so much thinking in that buggy) one of the things that is turning Chill into such a fucking nightmare of a novel to write, why I keep glancing off its surface, and why I feel like I can't get into any of the characters at all.

Because the thematic arc that I find myself swearing up and down the book doesn't actually have is there, buried, and it's all about a bunch of people who grew up in a tremendously abusive, exploitive household, and the ways those experiences have affected them.

So here I am, writing all these damaged beauties, and no wonder my subconscious really doesn't want to let me inside their heads right now, considering what the last two years of my own headspace have entailed.

Stupid books as therapy. I dudn't want therapy. I just wanted a nice block of flats rollicking adventure novel.

Permission not to be working on the manuscript feels like somebody pulled a giant wodge of Kleenex out of my brain. Stupid book I am not ready to write yet. Why can't you be more like your brother?

And hey, I only have about 150 pages left to write. When it comes unstuck, I can do that standing on my head, right? :-P

Anyway, I have three sets of page proofs this moth, and two conventions, so It's not like there won't be enough work to keep me busy. And maybe the b&#k can use that time productively, to sort out its issues, so when we try to get back together there's a chance we can make this thing work.

233.9 miles to Lothlorien

And now I am going to go take off this sports bra before it cuts off circulation to my brain, and shower, and practice guitar before I go to PT.

Steve Brust would like you to know about 4th Street Fantasy Convention, an intimate little con in Minneapolis.

For those unfamiliar with it, the Fourth Street Fantasy Convention is a fairly small convention that ran during the 80s. It’s oriented toward, well, how to read and write better. Or, put another way, it’s a convention of people who like to read, write, and edit good books, and want there to be more good books to read, write, and edit.

We’re bringing it back.

I will be the Guest of Honor, and many other fun and wonderful people will be there.

Also, my short story "And the Deep Blue Sea" is available as of today as a podcast at StarShipSofa, read by Amy Sturgis. Which is pretty darn cool.


Progress notes for 2 April 2008

Chill:

New words: 669
Microsoft wordcount: 52622
Manuscript wordcount: 62000 
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: snuggy cat. her favorite thing is when my lap and the sunbeam are colocated. 
Reason for stopping: Intense frustration and brainlessness.

Man, this book is still not going well. I am stringing words together, but I'm not sure they make any sense, and the sentences certainly aren't. It feels like trying to write with brain damage. If it weren't for the fact that apparently everything else is working normally and I know I'm a hypochondriac, I swear I would suspect a micro-stroke, or possibly a tumor.

Gah. I am such a basket case about my writing right now anyway. I am toiling under a triple threat: one helping of post-Clarion syndrome, which has actualized my internal editor to the point where all I can see about what I'm writing is what the words aren't, one helping of trying to write a book that's so unripe, I think I would be better off trying to write it in 2009, and meanwhile, an extra-large helping of being deep in the throes of processing some sort of incipient skill jump that has made me incompetent to do things I used to do with ease, until the backbrain figures it out and frees up some processing power.

Now I know that the end result of this particular crisis will be me as a stronger writer (heck, maybe this is the final veil, and if I get through this, I will be a grown up writer and not a journeyman anymore) but trying to work through it is hard, hard, hard. And it hurts. And I wish I could just stop.

I think what I am going to do is take the rest of today off, give myself tomorrow off. This weekend is I-Con. And then I will start work on the page proofs for Ink & Steel. (Page proofs for the mass market paperback of A Companion to Wolves are also landing this week, and by the 18th I should have the ones for All the Windwracked Stars... at which point I will be at Penguicon.) After the page proofs, perhaps I will see if I have grown any story in my head.

(I even know what happens in these scenes. I just can't seem to write it at any level of competence above, oh, Fourth Grade. Gods, this is frustrating.)





Darling du jour: Hazel, he supposed the color was called--but tawny was the right word, for everything about her should be defined in terms of predators.
There's always one more quirk in the character:  Tristen really, really does not want to tell me how Aefre got killed. I mean, I already know--I knew last book. But boy howdy he does not want to talk about it.

Today's words Word don't know:  n/a
Words I'm Surprised Word Do Know: n/a 
Sustenance: Steamed buns. Again. And a mango.
Mean Things: Family deaths. War crimes.
Other writing-related work: none

Exercise: none
Miles to Lothlorien: 245.8
Guitar practice: Just gonna go do that now. Or maybe I will have a nap first.
Mail: nomail

Progress notes for 1 April 2008

So much for my productive day off. I blew it entirely on being stressed out on Internet drama.

Fuck this. Maybe I do need to turn off comments, much as I would regret it.

Chill:

New words: 189
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: There is a cat on my knee as I type this, holding on to the cloth of my jeans with her clawtips and purring. She must be cold. Or want something.
Jury-rigging: Dream sequences. Hate 'em, Jake.
Sustenance: steamed buns with red bean paste, courtesy of the frozen foods section of the local Asian grocery 
Exercise: Climbing last night, five routes. I am still thrashing on my project wall, which is a 5.7 that really doesn't seem like it should be that hard. At least I got past the point where I was stuck until last week, and did it with relative grace and professionalism. And then I got to the traverse.

A Brief Dramatization:

The Jeff (on belay): "What seems to be the problem up there?"
Our Heroine: "(&^%(*&^(*^ traverse."
The Jeff: "Oh, yeah, that traverse. That traverse sucks."
Our Heroine: *falling off wall again* "Yeah, I noticed."
Alisa (wandering in a little late): "Which one is she doing?"
The Jeff: "Blue route."
Alisa: "Oh, yeah, the one with the sucky traverse."
Our Heroine: "*&^%^%#$*^%!"

Ahem.

After that, I tried another 5.7, which is on the level of, I sent it once but have not yet been able to reproduce the feat--I also did not send it last night, as I was too worn out from falling off that damned traverse--and then I did a 5.6, a 5.5, and a 5.7 on the slab that I had never tried before, which I sent pretty well, once I figured out a sticky spot after the transition to vertical. I am getting really good at smearing; it's the one place where being heavy and having big flat feet works to my advantage.

I have picked out a 5.11 that I would really love to be able to climb. Someday, my prince will come....

This morning, 2 mile run in the warm (for this time of year) rain at dawn, which was much more like a run than last week's two mile runs. I only did four intervals, but they were much longer intervals, so I actually ran--okay, dog-trotted--about half the distance. And there were a couple of actual sprints in there, too, which was the only time I got winded, which is incredibly exciting to me. (The other times, I dropped out of the interval because either my arches or my calves hurt too much to push through, but that will get better as I adapt, and as my weight drops and these shoes break in.) First mile in 15 minutes, five minute break, second mile in 17 minutes because after the last interval, I stopped to look at the crocuses and snowdrops carpeting a neighbor's lawn for a minute.

Not too shabby, all things considered.

The lovely thing about going for a run first thing in the morning is that it fulfills the Live Frog clause. Nothing worse is likely to happen to you all day.

Also, I went for a walk to the package store on the corner, because I needed beer.

Miles to Lothlorien: 235.8
Guitar practice: My right hand appears to be developing a mind of its own. It does stuff now without consulting the neocortex, which is encouraging--that's what we hope to train it to do--but  little disconcerting, because now it often will not do things it used to know how to do. However, it taught itself a new finger-picking pattern recently, though it kind of still sucks at it, and it just randomly invented a bridge for "Brown-Eyed Girl" the other day. I had nothing to do with it. (It was not a good or complicated bridge, but it was definitely a bridge, and it kind of freaked me out. The hand seemed happy, however.)
Mail: Dust is number 4 on the Locus best seller list for April. Of course, that is the April Fool's edition. But the story about me sharing a bunk bed with Margaret Atwood? Total fact.
The Internet is Full of Things:  Snake and mouse!

Progress notes for 31 March 2008

Chill:

New words: 1920
Microsoft wordcount: 51764
Manuscript wordcount: 61000
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: The cat might learn that loving me very much when she wants wet food is a bad way to get it, especially since that's the only time she ever gives me sugar at all.
Reason for stopping: Time to go climb.





Darling du jour: "And have you kept your conscience, Sir Tristen?"
Tyop du jour: violent-blue
Jury-rigging: Tristen is in Scary Danger. Finally, some peril.

This book needs more scary danger on the next draft. Maybe I can add some lighting effects and creaky foleys.

There's always one more quirk in the character:  Aw, Tristen. Poor you. Poor your angst.

Today's words Word don't know:  cookstoves, tailtip, nevermind, shadowless, kinslaughter,
Sustenance: bean burritos
Mean Things: inherent nobility
Other writing-related work: I did not open the page proofs. Maybe tonight when I get home.

Exercise: none
Miles to Lothlorien: 248.5
Guitar practice: none. maybe tonight
Mail: page proofs!

Progress notes for 30 March 2008

Chill:

New words: 1750. There may be a second sitting later tonight, when the gang shows up in chat. The live of the working artist is pretty much ceaseless toil.
Microsoft wordcount: 49844
Manuscript wordcount: 58750 
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: Mebd mugged her catnip banana and beat it brutally
Reason for stopping: quota, needed food badly, caffeine-deprivation headache from failure to stop working long enough to get tea





Darling du jour: he could have had wings, if he wanted them badly enough to put up with the nuisance value
Jury-rigging: arbitrarily closed off an avenue of exploration
There's always one more quirk in the character:  Chelsea is now humming the Hawaii 5-O theme...

Today's words Word don't know:  hyperoxygenated,
Sustenance: I just walked down and got a Subway meatball grinder. That was kind of exceptionally bland and way too sweet. Why did I think I wanted that?
Mean Things: still more carnivorous plants
Other writing-related work: none

Exercise: walked to Subway. ;-) Should try to yoga later, maybe, though not too much, as today is technically a recovery day.
Miles to Lothlorien: 248.5
Guitar practice: Just about to start
Mail: nomail

Progress notes for 29 March 2008

Chill:

New words: 1444
Microsoft wordcount: 48094
Manuscript wordcount: 57000 
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: Mostly, I was neglected 
Reason for stopping: There's nine hours of work in that six pages. It seems like a lot of effort for very little return. They're a pretty awful six pages, too, which makes me unhappy.

Also, the space bar on my damned laptop is dying. Replacement gets closer and closer.





Darling du jour: I hate every word.
Jury-rigging: Well, I figured out what Jsutien's job was. That's nice to know on page 220. Something else to fix in the next draft. Thank God writing is not a performance art.
There's always one more quirk in the character:  None of these people have personalities. Something else I hope they grow by the next draft.

Today's words Word don't know:  astrogrator, astrogation, tzaraath,
Mean Things: Parental angst
Other writing-related work: Some SU stuff. I seriously need to get some deadlines pushed back here; I'm going to have a Serious Malady of some sort otherwise. Or possible just lose my ability to communicate. Or write. Or write anything but hackwork.

Exercise: crunches, "ran" two miles. (When we say "ran," we mean "waddled.")
Miles to Lothlorien: 248.7
Guitar practice: I was low-blood-sugary, but I did practice somewhat. Poorly, because I was hungry and clumsy. God, was I clumsy today.

Progress notes for 27 March 2008

Chill:

New words: 1349 (hopefully I will get the other 651 words tonight after archery, but if I do I will just stick it in tomorrow's wordcount.)
Microsoft wordcount: 46426
Manuscript wordcount: 54750
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: the cat is using me as a backrest while she sees to her toilette. 
Reason for stopping: must leave in 45 minutes





Darling du jour: "We're the carnivorous plants."
Tyop du jour: chookbones
Jury-rigging: My novel has daddy issues.
There's always one more quirk in the character:  Dear characters: While not nodding, can you also stop wincing in sympathy? Thanks. Love, Bear.

Today's words Word don't know:  Today I learned that the plural of labellum is labellums. I would have guessed labelli. Anyway, Word doesn't know any of those. Also: harlequined, microwaved, dragony, rictus, agave,
Words I'm Surprised Word Do Know:
Sustenance: steamed buns, applesauce
Mean Things: cultural relativism
Other writing-related work: none

Exercise: none
Miles to Lothlorien: 245.2
Guitar practice: For some reason, I can only sing Tom Petty songs in a Southeastern accent.
Mail: nomail
The Internet is Full of Things:  Orchid anatomy

Progress notes for 26 March 2008

Logging yesterday's wordcount today! (I didn't get this done until about 1 am, what with one thing and another, and then I went to bed.)

Chill:

New words: 2514
Microsoft wordcount: 45077
Manuscript wordcount: 53000 (Chapter breaks, how I love you for inflating the hell out of my apparent wordcount.)
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: The P.C. decided I wasn't being enough fun, and went to go get stoned about halfway through the afternoon. I had great fun watching her make out with her catnip-filled zucchini, or whatever that thing is supposed to be. She's lost all her glitterballs under things again, which is usually my cue to sweep, but right now, I am deathmarching. (And you should see the state of my sink. Uck. Gross.)
Reason for stopping: Quota, chapter, tired.





Darling du jour: ruptured bulkheads frozen in twisted alloy petals like balloons captured at the moment of bursting
Tyop du jour: I'm sure I'll find one when I revise
Jury-rigging: Oh, my god. Did I actually just write lit up with a startled smile? I'd cut my hands off in penance, but I need them to climb. Nevermind, highlight it and fix it later, press on, press on.
There's always one more quirk in the character:  Tristen requests that, in future, he be allowed to skip all scenes relating to dead children. I have informed him that he needs to check his contract, and also that he knew the job when he signed up.

They never believe you'll follow through.

Today's words Word don't know:  viewports, karst (but it offers to correct it to "karsts"), cofarming, rebraided, jowled, cowled (I laugh at the coincidence), neurochemicals,
Words I'm Surprised Word Do Know: metronomic, tilapia
Sustenance: Dirty rice from the freezer. Freezer food: the resource that makes possible a proper literary deathmarch. Well, that and cookies.
Mean Things: ghosts from the haunted past

Other writing-related work: none
Exercise: crunches. There was climbing, too, wherein I actually finished every route I tried, including two 5.7s (with a certain amount of flailing and dogging on the rope, but I think both climbs were reproducible, which is exciting, because so far my technique for anything harder than a 5.6 has been to flounder at it until I either get too tired, or, luck out and find some way up that I can never seem to find twice.) after which my forearms and triceps hurt so much I just did a 5.5 and two 5.6s on the slab. Also, I did some sun salutations to stretch out. Need to do more yoga. Maybe Saturday.

Good meatpuppet. Brave meatpuppet. You did good.

(Please note, use of "meatpuppet" here is highly ironic. I am all too aware of the fact that the body knows all sorts of stuff it doesn't tell the brain, and that the entire brain has all kinds of information it never tells the neocortex, and that the neocortex itself does tons of work it doesn't bother telling that little patch of the left brain that calls itself I and puts on airs. It's a little bit like the Reagan administration: we just give the big guy plausible deniability by never letting him find out anything that might disturb his afternoon nap and jelly bean snack.)

Miles to Lothlorien: 245.2
Guitar practice: In addition to "Yellow Submarine," I am learning "Breakdown." Which of course is in A minor, because it seems that if I like a song, it will inevitably be in A minor. I know more songs in A minor than anybody needs. But it is also the key that best suits my (limited, untrained, breathy-chick) voice.
Mail: nomail

Progress notes for 25 March 2008

I despair of this book. It has no plot, no character arcs, and not even a ghost of thematic resonance. I think part of the problem is that I have no idea what its argument is, and so I am just writing stuff and hoping my right brain knows what the fuck it's doing, because it's sure as hell not telling the left brain.

I just keep reminding myself, I didn't know what One-Eyed Jack & The Suicide King was about until the third draft, and that came out okay.

Oh book, what are you about?

Sigh.

Stupid book. Why can't you be more like your brother?


Chill:

New words: 2362
Microsoft wordcount: 42563
Manuscript wordcount: 50,000 
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: Mostly, these days, I work with a cat curled up against my thigh. Or draped over it. This suits us both, mostly. Except when I want to work on the desktop, and she pitches a fit. 
Reason for stopping: 13 hours is enough work for one day






Darling du jour: The mammoth was still screaming.
Tyop du jour: gradonflies
Jury-rigging: What the hell am I doing with this mammoth? Oh, look, a cobra!

Today's words Word don't know:  bioweapon, handsfuls, vambrace, debriding, coatsleeve, planetside, terraforming,
Words I'm Surprised Word Do Know: cambric
Sustenance: English muffins, nachos, lots of water
Other writing-related work: read Will's SU story.

Exercise: Climbing yesterday. Burned out on two 5.7s (One of which I have done before, but hey) and sent three 5.6s.
Miles to Lothlorien: 245.2
Guitar practice: cursory, but we made the attempt
Mail: I hear a rumor that the ARCs for Ink & Steel are out, though I have not yet seen one myself.

Progress notes for 24 March 2008

[12:17] stillsostrange: *escapes the sloth*
[12:17] stillsostrange: *watches it hog the covers*
[12:18] matociquala: I have sloth too
[12:18] matociquala: perhaps this scene needs a sloth
[12:22] matociquala: (Benedick suffers from anhedonia)
[12:22] matociquala: (But the sloth cheered him up)
[12:22] matociquala: (It's hard not to be cheerful when you see a sloth.)
[12:49] stillsostrange: there, unslothed
[12:50] matociquala: My sloth is extreme, and my whole body aches.
[12:50] matociquala: Perhaps I should stay home from climbing tonight
[12:50] stillsostrange: EXXXtreme Sloth!
[12:50] matociquala: It's chrome-plated
[12:50] matociquala: and has pinstripes.
[12:50] matociquala: go faster stripes on a sloth.
[12:50] matociquala: now THERE is irony.
[12:52] tanaise: Does it have a spoiler?

Shadow Unit:

New Words: ~400
Things Chaz and/or Hafidha ate, considered eating, or refused to eat: nothing, which may shortly become problematic


Chill:

New words: 2032
Microsoft wordcount: 40200
Manuscript wordcount: 47250
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: Dogs and cats, living together....
Reason for stopping: bored. Oh, look. It's the middle of the book. I can tell, because I am bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. Also, I hit my quota. I might try to write a little more tonight, after climbing. Tomorrow I have no plans, so I might go for a real hardcore day and see if I can hit 50K. That blessed 200-page-mark is almost within sight.





Darling du jour: But it was hard not to cheer up when you saw a sloth.
Tyop du jour: Benedick booked his knees over a thick bent limb
Jury-rigging: Shockingly, that went about as I anticipated.
There's always one more quirk in the character:  Hey! it's hard not to smile when you see a sloth!

Today's words Word don't know:  mirthlessness, anhedonia, deus, suckery, mushed
Words I'm Surprised Word Do Know: muciliaginous, microenvironment
Sustenance: a ham and cheese sandwich, tea, fruit.
Mean Things: mirthlessness. anhedonia. cyberleeches, as promised. man-eating plants. more giant arthropods.
Other writing-related work: none

Exercise: none
Miles to Lothlorien: 245.2
Guitar practice: Fear me, for I am learning "Yellow Submarine." On the theory that I should know at least one song in which nobody dies.
Mail: nomail
The Internet is Full of Things:  But they all make me crabby.

Progress notes for 22-23 March 2008

Ooo, I wrote a pretty sentence. That always makes me happy.

Chill:

New words: 4160
Microsoft wordcount: 38,168
Manuscript wordcount: 44,750
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: the cat is picketing for something. And stealing my chair every time I get up.
Reason for stopping: Quota