Progress notes for 23 May 2006:
New Words: 1136
Total Words: (actual wordcount / manuscript) 49,243 / 56,250
Deadline: August 1
Words per day to meet deadline: 625
Reason for stopping: end of scene, dinner soon.
49,243 / 100,000
225 / 400
Stimulants: licorice tea, cotton candy
Exercise: walking around the zoo for about two hours. We saw lions and bears and seals and giraffes and tapirs, oh my.
Mean Things: EARTHQUAKE! And a broken leg. A badly broken leg. Oh yes.
Darling du jour:
The human lay on his back, one leg tucked under him and the other splayed out. He panted heavily. That was good; he was alive. His eyes were screwed up like fish mouths, though, little puckers in a sweating face, and his hands clutched into the mud and reeds, fingers sunk deep. Gourami did not think that was promising.
The frog is a comedian. Yeah, predictable, really.
Books read:Wendy Moore, The Knife Man; Ellen Kushner, The Privilege of the Sword;
Other writing-related work: A draft blurb for the preview of Undertow that will go at the back of Carnival.
This will probably change, but for your amusement, here's the copy:
André Deschênes is a killer, but he wants to be more. If he can find a teacher who will forgive his past, he can learn to manipulate the odds, control probability, become a conjure man. But the world he lives on is run by the ruthless Charter Trade company, and the floating city called Novo Haven is little more than a company town, where humans and aliens alike either work for the Greene family, or are destroyed by it. In the bayous and back alleys, revolution is stirring. And one more death may be all it takes to shift the balance.
André Deschênes's luck has always been better than average. He's about to change it.
The glamorous life of the writer: we went to the zooooo! The tapirs were peeing on everything, the giraffe was grazing (on the ground, a really spectacular engineering feat), and the lions were, respectively, eating grass and giving back to the humans.
suaver_than_thou: At your command, dear author!
matociquala: Well, you see, that's rather the problem, isn't it?
suaver_than_thou: Beg pardon?
matociquala: My command. You're not at it.
suaver_than_thou: But I just said--
matociquala: I asked you three weeks ago now what your trauma was. Why you were so dead set on being Jean's student. Why you have to prove yourself to everybody.
suaver_than_thou: I don't have anything to prove.
matociquala: ...the urge to shoot back "Prove it," is pretty strong, but I'm going to resist. Nothing to prove, huh? Then where do the control issues come from? Whence the deep-seated need to prove yourself worthy of respect?
suaver_than_thou: I don't have any control issues. I have nothing to prove. I am a confident, well-dressed, competent man. With a gun.
matociquala: Which you feel the need to tell me about.
matociquala: In detail.
suaver_than_thou: I'm not sure I like this line of questioning.
matociquala: That's what it always comes down to, isn't it? I ask you a hard question, like "What's under the shell?" or "What's the source of your massive insecurity complex?" and you clam right up.
suaver_than_thou: Baloney. I'm talking to you now.
matociquala: For values of talking that equal stonewalling. You could just tell me what you think learning to conjure will get you. What's the payoff, Deschenes? You have a career--okay, it's a fucking stupid way to earn a living, but you're good at it--all the women you want, prestige of a sort...
matociquala: I'm sorry, did you say something about Cricket?
suaver_than_thou: She doesn't love me.
matociquala: Nope. She doesn't. You know why?
matociquala: Because Cricket is broken, too. But not as broken as you are. And, Andre... in case you've forgotten?
matociquala: Honey, you shoot people.
suaver_than_thou: They deserve it.
matociquala: More of your self-justification. Go tell it on the mountain. Or in the swamp in your case, for that matter. Look, either you're going to tell me what the problem is, of I'm going to keep you here all night. I already know it's not Daddy Trauma, because you were way too eager to let me think it was.
matociquala: You wish. Angelo is way slicker than you, and I got it out of him eventually.
suaver_than_thou: Angelo's a pansy.
matociquala: Well, yes, technically true enough. Wouldn't stop him from kicking your ass back to Texas, though, sonny.
suaver_than_thou: I hate you.
matociquala: Aww. Only because I'm right.
matociquala: You know you'll crack eventually. Come over here, sit on mama's knee, tell me a little story. I won't hurt you.
matociquala: Come on, Andre. Just a little sugar.
suaver_than_thou: I'd rather kiss a Wookiee.