September 13th, 2003

bear by san

Finagle's Constant

I get these ideas now because I have declared that I Don't Write Short Fiction Anymore. And I'm trying to write a novel and figure out how to revise its companion book, and while I am completely obsessed with those things, I think perhaps it frees up my sub-brain to chew on other ideas.

I'm contemplating writing a quantum mechnics story dealing with the possibility of subatomic communication with the future.

Or the past.

ie, there's this nifty thing about quantum theory where time travel *is* possible, on a very small scale. You can zap particles--or more precisely, particles can zap themselves--through time, as long as they only do it for a very little while. (I used to date a physicist fairly seriously. He was a smart boy. He once told me that in his opinion, quantum mechanics was the only thing in physics that admitted a possibility of free will. Which is something I still mean to write a story about one of these lifetimes, too. Hmm. I bet it's the same story.)

Anyway, I'm thinking about that now when I should be reading Cap's novel and working on my own. Or maybe standing under a very hot shower for half an hour until my neck hurts less.

I had a dream last night--and I very rarely remember my dreams, because I'm of the five-six hard blank hours school of sleeping--that I was holding an uncorrected bound galley of Hammered in my hands. Since the novel hasn't sold yet, but I just delivered the third draft of the sequel to my agent last week, and the final book in the it's-not-a-trilogy is brewing in the back of my head, I'm hoping that's a good sign.

Also, I realized that I can probably finish my draft of The Stratford Man by Thanksgiving if I work my ass off. Which would mean I could get a completed second draft to Jenn by the end of the year (I can already taste her fear), and still goof off and play with shorts and think about how I'm going to revise Bridge of Blood And Iron and what I want to do with Worldwired for at least a month and still meet my goal of two completed novel-length MS this year.

Hell, SM is about two completed novel-length MS on its own.

Assuming, of course, that I shower and get my butt in gear and get some of Hugo read this morning for Cap. And drink some tea.
  • Current Music
    NPR: Weekend Edition
bear by san

In an attempt to keep procrastinating as long as possible:

A link page that seems to be an attempt to collect the (un)official websites of everybody who could possibly be connected with spec fic in any capacity whatsoever. Just amazing.

I watched the first two episodes of the BBC In Search of Shakespeare with the boy last night. And we ate pizza. Michael Wood is a truly obsessed individual (mostly with Shakespeare's alleged Catholicism), and he doesn't understand Marlowe even a little bit (like many new converts to the Cult of Will, he seems to think that to elevate Will you have to denigrate Kit, which isn't the way it works at all), but the location shots are dead useful. I just wish there were more location shots and less maundering about "the old religion."

Of course, we're watching it in near black-and-white, because while we have a multiregion DVD player we do not have a PAL television. But such is life.
  • Current Music
    NPR: Wait Wait Don't Tell Me
bear by san

Public service announcement

I just took thirty names off my "friends" list. Which is a stupid name for the list. But there you have it.

Having taken them off (or kept them on) has nothing to do with how worthy I find you as a person. Rather, it has to do with whether I have enough time to actually read all the posts of all the people on my friends list, which I don't. Please, please don't take it personally: it's just that things were getting out of hand, and I was in danger of spending more time reading ljs than writing.

Which cannot be permitted to happen, I fear.
  • Current Music
    Still NPR
bear by san

Soldier's Heart

It is both sadly funny and just plain sad that we live in a world that needs a site called www.combatstress.com.

***

3,728 marathon words today. End of Act III. Put to bed on a suitably somber but hopeful note. Two more acts to go, and I suspect they will both be shorter than Act III. Which is good. Because it is a monster.

713 pages total, counting 26 pages that are mostly outline. If I can keep act IV & V to under 75K total, I can bring it in under 1000 pages. God damn. What kind of a well-meaning idiot decides to write a book this long?

I only have a short novel-length manuscript to go. The good news is that it's page 687, and the plot is finally really starting to roll downhill.

Yes, that was the piquant taint of irony you detected there.
  • Current Music
    the Sugarcubes - Coldsweat