February 16th, 2005

bear by san

You know the way to stop me, but you don't have the discipline.

SF Site has named All Star Zeppelin Adventure Stories one of their best books of the year.

And Worldwired is in its FedEx bag, just waiting to be sent back to Random House today. And my line-edit of A Companion to Wolves is back with truepenny.

I think it's Miller time.

Or at least taco time.

Joshilyn Jackson on the Amazon Sales Rank Obsession (warning: if you are a writer, swallow what's in your mouth first) (via jilljames)

I wrote two sentences on the Tindalosi New Yorker story yesterday.

This week's planned debut of "Botticelli" over at The Agony Column (I got to see a sneak preview of the artwork last night--it's quite unsettling) gives me a lovely self-absorbed excuse to talk about some stuff that's been under discussion around the blogosphere (including right here!) relating to auctorial intent, the purposes of fiction, and Ms. Emma Bull's fabulous one-liner regarding fiction, the writing of, and saying things in as small a space as possible.

One of the things I love about fiction is its ambiguity. It allows me to discuss things obliquely, on an intuitive level, and provide arguments and counter-arguments within the context of a rhetorical structure without having to choose a side. It's discussion as a game, in other words--what astounding fun! What a marvelous game!

(Oh, and, um, spoilers Although not plot-related ones; these are strictly about theme.)

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No. I didn't think so.

In other words, I've proved without reservation Emma Bull's dictum--it's faster to just write the damned story than explain it.
  • Current Music
    Mack Bailey - Waltzing With Bears
bear by san

(no subject)

Words Microsoft Word did not know before today:

catamite (it knew 'sodomite,' oddly enough)
buggered
rakehell
musky
murrey
rechat
baldric
galleried
supplanter
Peaseblossom
tenné
welcomely
atomies
mousing
ruched
nevermind
coffered
sledged
bentwood
bumroll
(but it knew 'farthingale')
spraddled
geas
kilted
swive
eldritch
peridot



Okay, I refuse to believe the stinking program doesn't know 'coffered.'

Why, yes. I am standardizing the Elizabethan spellings in the epigrams I used as chapter-headers in The Stratford Man. How did you guess?

It knew haulage, though. Will wonders never cease?

I'm going to be arrested for contributing to the deliquency of a computer program any day now.
  • Current Music
    Paula Cole - Saturn Girl