January 29th, 2007

writing dust bible 'house of dust"

and if the music stops there is only the sound of the rain

1323 words on Pinion this morning. 195 pages, counting notes and signposts. This one wants chapters with titles for some reason, and here is the TOC so far:

1. light from a high window       3
2. they know all, that dwell in the silent kitchens        13
3. the mute resurrected        22
4. of course she fell        33
5. outside rule        43
6. the beast in the heart of the world        57
7: the beat of parasite wings        66
8. poison angels        82
9. what it means to be a princess        98
10. all that heaven and none for thee        108
11. her own salt        121
12: bats on a space ship        130
13. the deck        145
14. evidence of war        156
15. sweet things grow in the cold        170
16. chapter title        184

Chapter 16 obviously is still waiting to find its title, and 12 needs a better one.

I have stopped because I need to figure out exactly what Ariane did to provoke Perceval, and why Perceval doesn't want to talk about it. This will no doubt necessitate a trip to the gym and some time on the ski machine to unstick my head, which is good, because it will get me that much closer to Buckland.

Last couple of impertinent questions:

1) Write, submit, go to cons and hang out with other writers, find a good critique group who will honestly tell you what is broken and listen to them, read slush, write, submit, write, submit. Alas, there is no shortcut that I am aware of. Unless you happen to be scott_lynch, and touched by a publishing angel. 



Honestly? It helps to have been so completely miserable and trapped that you really appreciate not being miserable anymore. If you want to drop me an email, you know, I can go into detail.
lion in winter oops

Book Reports # 9 & 10: Jeff Smith, Bone: The Great Cow Race & Bone: Eyes of the Storm


Yanno, the Rat Creatures are exactly the thing that Disney always tries to do with the comic relief villains, and bitches up horribly. Oh, my loff for Bone is neverending.

Gran'ma Ben! Lucius! Stupid Stupid Rat Creatures!

...oh, just read them.
writing dust rengeek shakespeare

sooner or later, god is gonna cut you down

I. Love. My. Job.

So, thanks to truepenny, I now have titles for three books, if my publisher is interested: Pinion, Sanction, and Cleave*. And a title for the whole thing: The House of Dust.

But that's not what's making me laugh and laugh and laugh.

See, I have run out of physical appearances for characters. I used to know what everybody looked like, in my head. Which is why I could never cast actors to play them, because they looked like themselves.

Somewhere around Undertow I ran out. And so in this book, I didn't know what anybody looked like, and actors are usually too pretty. So I started making everybody look like various blues guitarists. And because this is the book where my motto is "That's fucked up! Let's put it in!" I've got both an Elric parody and Benedict of Amber parody*** wandering around.

Which now leads us to the situation I'm in, which is !Benedict, as portrayed by Chris Smither, standing in the hallway in his bunny slippers talking to a couple of teenaged girls through a bedroom door while one of them gets entirely too tipsy on red wine.

My god I love this book. I think I have just grokked the appeal of crackfic, all at once, like a slash of enlightment.**

*What do these three words have in common?

**Yes, that was a typo, but it was so good I had to leave it in.

***No. There will not be any !Benedict/!Elric slash. Back away now and PUT THE CRACK PIPE DOWN.