While I was away, he not only cleaned the entire house, he rearranged the office and built me a bigger desk. With cubbyholes, a book-case, and more storage space. A desk approximately three feet deep and seven feet long, with room to pile manuscripts and research books all over it.
I love my boy.
I mailed Scardown this afternoon, and I am having postpartum depression. Also postconvention depression. Also serious lack-of-self-faith issues, I think.
Meanwhile, I got mugged by a short story involving time travel, genderbot software, and Renaissance playwrights (and all the ideas I didn't get to use in Stratford Man) which stalled at three pages. It's going to be an odd frelling story. But I know how it ends.
And "One-Eyed Jack and the Suicide King" and "One-Eyed Jack and the Steel-Driving Men" have decided that they are in fact the first two chapters of a novel, One-Eyed Jack. I even have a third chapter title: "One-Eyed Jack and the Fallen Angel."
And I'm moody and restless and want to work and it's not happening. I know what happens next in SM and I don't have the wherewithal to write it. Feh.
Maybe I'll poke this short story some more.
Words: 1601 on short story that mugged me, 192 on Stratford Man
Reason for stopping: Moodiness
Feh. Postpartum depression. Postconvention depression. Dauntedness over Bridge revisions.
I think I need another mint Oreo. Or twenty.
Started Peg Kerr's The Wild Swans today. Only a few dozen pages in, and she already made me choke up once. Very nice. Clean style. Vivid characters. Comments when I finish, and finish I suspect I will.
And seeming even cleaner and more sweeping in comparison to the last book I read, which was Sarah Hoyt's All Night Awake, since I'm still playing ketchep with the Elizabethan Fantasy. Let us merely say that this one did not rock my world, and move along: more specifically, I found the writing style repetitive and overtold, the characterizations shallow, and the plot insubstantial. I often look very hard to find what a given writer has 'done right,' even in a book I do not like.
I'm not managing to do that in this one.
On the other hand, Hoyt is moving these books by the metric buttload, so she must be doing *something* right. Perhaps the style is just a little too forthright for my tastes.
I finished Ellen Kushner's Swordspoint on the airplane. It was considerably better than I remembered: I liked it rather a lot this time. Dunno what I was thinking when I read it back in 1998 or so and was underwhelmed.
I really need to read some nice hard crunchy science fiction before all this fantasy rots my brain.