November 29th, 2005

bear by san

Tuesday is Worldwired day! Also, I think Whiskey and Water is officially delivered. Yay!

Progress notes for 29 November 2005:

Undertow

New Words: 602
Total Words: 3562
Pages: 18
Reason for stopping: Unfortunately, this book appears to need some antagonists in addition to a plot. Demanding things, books.

It's suffering from Slow Character Development Syndrome. Some days, the characters show up clamoring to be included. In this case, however, I'm having to send out to Central Casting and troll neighborhood soda counters for likely prospects.

Mammalian Assistance: Paladin is giving me back for some reason. I suspect he wants pizza.
Stimulants: none
Exercise: walked about three and a half miles.
Mail: The Agony Column comments on the Jenny books. It's not so much a review as an analysis of the form, but I'm pretty geeked about it.
Today's words Word don't know: neoteny
Words I'm surprised Word do know: n/a
Tyop du jour: vestigial winds
Darling du jour: n/a. This is going to be another one of the books where most of the darlings are dependent on context.
Mean things: a frognapping!
Books in Progress: The Adams-Jefferson Letters;
Spam name du jour: Conks H. Humiliate
Other writing-related work: Staring at the introduction for the Katrina chapbook.
Interesting tidbits: Via one of the many fannish mailing lists I lurk on (I think it was Channel D, but I archived the email and am too lazy to look it up now) The Box O' Truth, a really fantastic site devoted to researching firearms penetration of various media. Or, in layman's terms, shooting stuff up.

Moral: If you want to shoot a lock off something, carry a shotgun.

Basically, if you want to bust anything up, carry a shotgun.

See? PODS was right. (A joke that four people reading this will get, and no, I'm not explaining it.)

Shotguns! They have a million helpful uses!

This sight is sort of a combination Mythbusters and Mail Call, only exclusively concentrating on firearms.



Meanwhile, museum of minims does not review Angels and Demons. It's not a review, she says, because: reviews should be thoughtful and informative.

"I did finish "Angels & Demons," though at the time the nearest bookstore was 30,000 miles below me, and obtaining the only other viable reading material — a Wired magazine — would have required a brief scuffle with the passenger clutching it."

That's the funniest thing I've read all week.

bear by san

(no subject)

We had a freeze last night, and this house was built when God was in his heaven and electric heat was cheap, and it's insulated to Las Vegas standards, anyway, which means, pretty much, not--so it got pretty cold in here. This morning when I got up, the Great Dane, Signy, who is both slender and short-coated, was curled into the smallest ball possible, shivering.

So I coaxed her up on the sofa and threw a couple of rugs over her, and when I went back to check on her later, she had retreated under them until just her nose was protruding, and her paw was over that nose.

I just walked through the living room a minute ago, and she's now stretched out with the black cat, Marlowe, sleeping on her butt. He won't sit on her, but apparently dog-under-rug is an acceptable perch.

She doesn't look cold any more.
bear by san

I'm shocked--SHOCKED--to discover wolf smut going on here!

Well, I was looking for an excuse not to feel guilty for being a bit stuck on Undertow--

So, truepenny and I have a revision request on the smutty wolf book (So, yeah, uh, we sorta figured that there was no way that one was getting into print unmodified, but sometimes you have to see what they'll let you get away with) so it remains to be seen if we can walk that fine line between artistic integrity and marketability to find it a home.

I think it would be pretty easy to sell if we were willing to just turn it into a fuzzy wish-fulfillment companion animal fantasy, because it would be a pretty decent type example of that particular (highly commercial!) subgenre. Unfortunately, as a deconstruction of fuzzy wish-fulfillment companion animal fantasies, it's required that living with the fuzzy companion animals demand some pretty heinous sacrifices of the humans involved (and something beyond, lo, the unbearable loneliness of all that Mary Suedom I mean, power and responsibility), which means that large chunks of this book are Pretty Freaking Dark, and Replete With Degrading Sex (TM), so we can't take that bit out.

Which means what you might call the necessity of telegraphing the squick early on, lest we blindside somebody with the squick a bit too hard. Kind of like, if you're going to have a castration by rat, for the love of Mike just get it on the first page so we all know what we're getting into, here.

(***Bear adds the word "catamite" to the first chapter. Repeatedly. Catamite, catamite, catamite... *** Wait, didn't I just write this book?)

Anyway, revise revise. Revise revise revise. Catamite catamite.

Um, sorry, where was I?

Oh, right, so there's that to get done. And also a synopsis of The Dead Shepherd to write, so it and its brother can go off to the great submittal pile in the sky next year.

And lo, there was work, and it was good.

And somewhere in here, I need to get that Undertow proposal done. As soon as I find some antagonists.

and drat it, the big one just volunteered the name Kloss, and he can't have it, because it's way too close to Kroc, and I've got one of those already.

...I suppose he could spell it with a C. Closs Closs Closs. Catamite catamite....

No, I haven't been drinking. Why do you ask?