December 7th, 2006

bear by san

your tongue is like poison

So, my first essay is up at Eee. Writing my bios, I gotta say, is starting to feel like an act of self-aggrandizement. I need to find something clever and brief, like Peter David's "writer of stuff."

Nalo, who is a genius, has a list of things she finds can signal a story going off track.

Me, I'm staring at "Lumiere" and wishing I didn't have places to be tonight. Had to go to the post office this morning, which killed an hour....

(I just asked leahbobet if avgolemono with a side of bahn cuoc was fusion cuisine or a refusal to commit. She responded, "ecumenical." Funny woman.)

Oh, and there's a review of YBFH up at Tangent, which includes some kind words about "Follow Me Light." And, through the mystery of time travel, a rather positive review of "Love Among The Talus" in this month's Locus, courtesy of Rich Horton, even though the story won't be up at Strange Horizons until Monday, as I just sent another round of edits back to Jed. (We were having a passage of pens, which is like a passage of arms, but less bloody. And if Kit were doing it, would be dirty in that underhanded Elizabethan sort of way, only in this case, I don't mean it that way.)

Right, back to Paris. More tea.

bear by san

If it don't end in bloodshed it's probably not love

Page 27 and pushing on. Sebastien is clinging to the facade of a building in a snowstorm and cursing his author. Also, feeling a bit cliched and chagrined.

I probably should not use <<   >> to delineate conversations in French, should I? Even though it will amuse me mightily.

Oh, what the hell.

Darling: Sebastien was here for revenge, though he could pretty it up with Justice's blindfold if he cared to play the hypocrite.

Right. That's 1099 words of vampire angst and introversion and building-scuttling. I'm off for a pee and to get a drink and turn on some lights before I carry on. Man, I'm tired.

I think I'm fighting off a bug.

you think you're in his arms, but you're in his hands.

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bear by san

she came in through the bathroom window, protected by a silver spoon

So I just spent thirty minutes researching various types of windows for a single paragraph of action. Did you know Yorkshire has its own sash window subspecies? And France has its own subspecies of casement window.

No wonder my brain is full of really bizarre bits of information. And that's thirty minutes of my life I will never get back. But now I know all about casement windows.

And the moral of this story is, by the way, never have your illicit assignations in a hotel unless you want a vampire crashing in. Through the French casement window. As researched above.