December 29th, 2005

ascii frog by Jean Seok

Viva les girl cooties.

Page 275. More girl cooties. Character A is musing on his screwed up relationship with character B. Kimball Kinnison never had these kinds of problems.

I could take all the relationship crap, introspection, and romance subplots out of my books, and be taken more seriously as a writer. But then again, if D. H. Lawrence can get away with it, maybe it would be easier to change my name to Ebenezer. Because men writing love stories is literature. Women writing love stories is girl germs.

On the other hand, women buy a hell of a lot more fiction than men.

Speaking of love stories, and girlcooties, I was reminded last night of how much I love Edward Bryant's Nebula-nominated 1973 short story "Shark."

Oh yeah. "We'll probably use your old body to feed the new one."

Another writer would take a whole goddamned story to do the character development that Bryant does by implication in that one sentence.

Damn, that's a hell of a story.

And, because I caught truepenny's insomnia and I've been up since 5 am, Collapse )

P.S., the music is coalescent's fault.
bear by san

Doug, Paul, Jason, Patrick, et al.--

Rich Horton loves us.

The two novelettes from the Summer issue were my favorite TTA pieces this year. Paul Meloy's "Dying in the Arms of Jean Harlow", a decidedly weird (even "New Weird"), arguably science-fictional, story about, oh, Autoscopes and a special child and ... but I won't try to describe it: it's a perfect Third Alternative story, mixing black humour, bleak English landscapes, and wild ideas very nicely. Douglas Lain’s "The Word ‘Mermaid’ Written on an Index Card" is a moving story about a sad young man dealing with his own depression, the death of his father, and his attraction to a curious young woman who might be a mermaid.

(He also says nice things about the much-maligned "House of the Rising Sun.")


The problem with working on the sofa with the laptop supported in a marginally comfortable position on pillows on one's lap is that is makes getting up to get another cup of tea or to go pee kind of a pain in the ass.

Page 406. *takes a break to go sob hopelessly for a while*
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bear by san

swear there ain't no heaven and I pray there ain't no hell

My brain has taken to generating random weirdness in self defense, in a futile attempt to distract me from working on the b^%k.

For example, it just occurred to me that a transparent glass box would be completely opaque to Daredevil. There's endless hours of fun in that scenario.

Also, testicles are my current argument in favor of natural selection and against intelligent design. Any sensible deity would have made them heatproof and tucked them up inside. On the other hand, this dangling all over the place for temperature control thing gives every indication of being some kind of Mickey Mouse improvisation job.



Two scenes left to write; one plot hole to patch.

Excelsior.
bear by san

See what you miss when you go to bed early? We're funny today.

Collapse )

In other news, the sexiest thing, bar none, that I have ever seen on television is a scene in series 3 of Sapphire and Steel.

It's the bit where Steel almost gets knocked off the girder by the killer feather pillow. And Sapphire catches him and presses him against the window.

And then she walks away. But while she does, she trails her fingers down his neck, across his shoulder, down his biceps--up his forearm, along his wrist...

And he stands stock still, head turned, eyes lowered.

Totally unmoving

Except just before she draws her hand away, he turns his hand--just his hand--and grabs her fingers. With this abrupt, completely untelegraphed motion.

I need a cold shower now....