February 8th, 2007

writing dust bible 'house of dust"

they'll tell you that the darkness is a blessing in disguise

for you never have to notice if you're sighted or you're blind.

1754 last night and this morning, despite major distractions last night in contemplating the after-effects of repeated head trauma, and the Presumptuous Cat doing her damnedest to get a second job as a pair of mittens. I only slept between five and seven, really, but fortunately wasn't running a sleep deficit all ready so I should be fine.

I think I've just written one of the best scenes of my life.

I'm gonna go take a break for an hour, drink some coffee, watch a little TV, and then come back and do my hundred pages on A Companion to Wolves and my hundred pages on Undertow.

No gym today; it's archery day. Huzzah!

But, almost forgot: 409.4 miles to Rivendell!
writing gorey earbrass unspeakable horro

Some days, you can just tell that the universe thinks it's pretty fucking funny.

Carnival has been nominated for a Lambda Award for SFF, along with these fine titles.

And Liz, my editor (not to be confused with Anne, my editor, or Beth, my editor, or Bill, my editor, or Jeremy, my editor... er, you get the idea) has just emailed to let me know that the page proofs for Whiskey & Water (Or, as she likes to call it, Big Gay Smut, possibly because there is no gay smut in it) are underway and due back 2/26.

100 pages of Undertow page proofs read today, and 100 pages of A Companion To Wolves page proofs read today.

Did I mention that W&W is 155K, or over six hundred manuscript pages?


The good news is, it looks like I won't have much to do for the rest of the year.... except that killer convention schedule. And revising two or three novels.
rengeek player king

aw, drat.

I was going to blind somebody tonight, but alas, preliminary research indicates that I need an actual flash for retinal burns; a few hours soaking in a radioactive stew won't do it. (Cataracts would be a nice backup, but they have magictech and will be To Help before that develops.)

I guess this goes in the Big Folder Of Things That Never Happened, But Should Have. Along with making Michelangelo eat a caterpillar.

A writer's life is so very hard.

At least I got to make their hair fall out.

I see a few new faces around: please feel free to introduce yourselves, or lurk quietly in the corners, or comment as the spirit moves you. I don't always answer comments, especially when I am on a deadline deathmarch, like now, but I always appreciate them.

Beer and soda in the fridge, but I think we're out of ice again.