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I'm feeling pretty chipper about finishing the draft of the Tindalosi New Yorker story. It's the first short story I've finished since the General Goldfish story, back in... October or something? A good long while, in any case.
I've noticed something recently. My short stories, these days, take about as much gestation as a novel. It's kind of scary. I must be packing in the subtext more tightly than I used to, or something.
Actually, the novels are taking longer too. Some of it is the line-edit-as-I-go thing, which gets me tighter prose but does preclude those 5K days I used to get now and again. And some of it is that more complicated books write more slowly, in general--or at least they do for me.
Ah well. As long as I can keep to two a year, I'm golden.
And now I'm back on vacation until May or a book sale, whichever comes first. *dives into the Sheffield collection with guilt-free glee*
This is your spider. This is your spider on drugs.
Get me another double espresso, stat! (Hmm. This explains my plotting style)
Sarah Weinman on Serial Killers and Her --especially interesting reading for those of us who have had the forensics bug, more or less.
Charlie Stross on how he writes, but not why.
John Scalzi on why he writes, but not how.