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bear by san

March 2017

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always winter

would you die of grieving when I leave?

Still going pretty easy on my hand, but I did two new unrated routes on the slab last night (I like smearing. I'm good at smearing) and resent two old routes and a problem. Felt like I had the juice to do another one, but five is a pretty good night, the gym was crowded, and I wanted to come home and watch Criminal Minds. (Yes, I know I'm behind on summaries. The next new ep isn't until the middle of January. I'll catch up. I seem to be writing this book right now, and don't have the ~3 hours per episode it takes me to do it properly.)

Seems like the snowpocalypse is scheduled for tomorrow and Sunday, so I am going to try to eat something and get out for a run in a minute here, since I suspect trying to drive to yoga class tomorrow morning with rush hour +snow would be pretty dumb. Otoh, maybe I can get out in the park before it gets too heavy.

Then come home and peck away at TStM until it's time for archery.

I got through the first revision pass last night/this morning around 2:30 am. So it's just one more pass through before I can hand it off to arcaedia and casacorona, and see what they see. I can tell that this is one of the books I learned to write while writing, because the third part needed much less work than the first two parts. Mostly, vacuuming out reflexive sentimentality. That stuff will creep in. The first two parts still need some structural work, especially since it's such a loosely structured novel. I can see precursor elements to The Stratford Man in here. A lot of time passes.

Also, when I wrote this, I was still firmy in the grip of the unnecessary prepositional phrase and direct article, and there was a good deal of surgical removal of linguistic scaffolding.

Oh, I cut so many words yesterday. Three whole scenes, around twenty pages, because I decided how to do those things better in the context of the narrative. Well, I still have to figure out how to do one of them, but the way I was trying to do it just wasn't working. Wolf boy, why must you be such a problem child?

Okay, now for food and exercise.

254.3 miles to Rauros. We're still paddling down a broad river under a gray sky.

Comments

Because things like this should not go un-w00ted:

I got through the first revision pass last night/this morning around 2:30 am.

w00t!
We are expecting the snowpocalypse, also now with Sleet!, this evening and overnight. I had just told my assistant that while I was not likely to drag my sorry virus-infected self in today, I was hoping for tomorrow, and then she reminded me of the weather forecast.

If I have an internet connection, I'm not leaving the house until Saturday am, when Puppy and I go to start the holiday shopping.

vacuuming out reflexive sentimentality

Why is every other thing I see on the internets these days reminding me in some way of Fire and Hemlock?

...oh, that's right, because I just reread it for the first time in years and it's taken over my imagination again.

G'luck with the vacuuming!
...I fear I haven't the foggiest what connection you're making? Help?
Tom's postcard to Polly (' "Sentimental drivel" ') and the whole story thread that spins out from it. Seeing one word was enough to set the whole thing unspooling in my mind...

Seriously, that book hasn't taken over my headspace so comprehensively since I was in my early twenties and neck-deep in medieval literature. I always forget how powerful it can be.
Ahh. Thank you.