• Mood: content
• Music: Andrew Bird - Imitosis

it is the heart that kills us in the end; just one more old broken bone that cannot mend.

I still miss the old titles for the Jacob's Ladder books (Pinion, Sanction, and Cleave. In my head, those will always be the real titles). But today, I am proud to note, I did write 773 words for the cold open of Grail, formerly Cleave, and not as aptly named as it used to be.

Oh well. Maybe someday when I'm famous I can get a re-issue with my titles. Nyah!

I'm in luck. My new point of view character, one Danilaw Jordan, is so far giving every indication of being a happy worker. Some characters just are--they'll talk my ear off, and I never have to worry when I'm in their POV, because they'll just keep the material coming. Jenny Casey is one of those--you put a quarter in her slot, and get fifteen minutes of entertaining bull. (cpolk, long before those books were sold, once told me that if Jenny were a real person, she (cpolk) would take her out to bars just to say things like "Jenny. Montreal Politics. Five minutes. Go."

Kit Marlowe was another one. He wrote himself.

And then there's this guy. Whose narrative voice is very different from that of the series so far, but I think I can make it work. After all, that's thematic.

In keeping with the level of cracktastic awesome that characterizes these books, I've decided that the colonial governor is a rock star. I've also just named a city Bad Landing. Oh yeah, this is going to be fun.

I actually roughed this scene during the first half of the Diane Davies band concert in Northampton that I attended earlier this evening--the ticket was a birthday gift from thecoughlin and my mom. Which was a quite good electric blues trio, and the eponymous blonde guitarist was really excellent of her type. Alas, I think their songwriting skills are not quite up to their level of technical proficiency, so the covers--even of blues tunes I had never heard before--offered them more opportunity to shine than did the original material.

Before that, I spent the morning and early afternoon adding 1526 words to The White City, and I've gotten to the point where I need to figure out what the hell, exactly, is going on to justify the groundwork that I've laid.

Oh if only I could just keep making random shit up forever. But the middle has to start somewhere, and here is the sand with the line.