I've started work on the steampunk novella, Bone & Jewel Creatures. Of course, the most important part of any creative work is...
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All right, out of excuses, then. TO WORK!</small>
Chaz made me ypocras, and now I am kind of goofy. And curled up on my new heating pad (which is officially my favorite possession right this second), with a cat on my hip. I am working on Bone & Jewel Creatures. I have decided that I will get to the maggots and the amputation tonight, come Hell or high water.
And I have realized something:
In fifteen or twenty years, I'm going to be hopelessly conventional, aren't I?
[15:21] matociquala: At least they will be more interesting conventions.
[15:23] leahbobet: We will be like "oh all those old farts have fifteen piercings"
[15:23] leahbobet: "pshaw."
Also, I am pleased with Chris Dodd. However, as a native Connecticutian, while I have repeatedly voted for the man, I will say that in general he seems to me to be a politician rather than a man of principle. On the other hand, if 76% of America is against Bush, the politically smart choice is to stand up to him, innit?
And yanno. I *have* been voting for him consistently since I was 18 or so. Which is more than I can say for Joe Lieberman.
Darling du jour: "Bones," Bijou guessed, which was mostly a safe guess in such cases.
1539 words into "Bone and Jewel Creatures," and it's starting to excite me. I think I'm feeling a little breathless and excited about this one now. See, I've known I had to write it for, oh, what, a good long time now, and even knew what I wanted to write--but it hadn't turned into a story yet. And I knew, because of scheduling, that it had to be written now, this winter. But as recently as a week ago, I really knew nothing about it except one character name--Bijou--and what it is that Bijou does for a living.
And then in the past couple of days the whole thing kind of put itself together in my head.
I should trust the story monster more. I really should. Most of the time, it delivers.
I do kind of think this one was meant to go to Peter Beagle circa 1971, though. It just has that kind of feel to it.
It helps that the pressure is off: I have permission to write exactly what I want, how I want it, and if it's uncommercial as anything, so be it. That's kind of a rare pleasure: I am, more or less, getting to write this story just for me. So I have six pages or so, and I know what the next few scenes are, and the central conflict, and the thematic argument. And I've introduced three of the four main characters, Bijou, Brazen, and the Feral Child, who will eventually have a name, but doesn't yet.
I'm going to take my time with this one, let it be a little bit leisurely, and see how it goes. So instead of trying to write everything I know as soon as I know it, I've just taken a bunch of notes. I know what tomorrow's writing holds, anyway, and possibly the day after that. And then, like what lies after the straight stair and the winding stair, we shall see.
Which means I'm knocking off for the evening, and I'm going to watch Sherlock Holmes and MfU DVDs and maybe read Wicked Lovely. I really need to do something about all this email, but I suspect it's going to have to wait until Saturday, because I do not have the emotional energy to tackle it right now.
Well, maybe I'll get some of it done. People should not have to wait weeks for a response to a friendly email. La.
There appears to be a limit to what I can actually handle doing in a day. Go figure.
P.S.: My hands still hurt so much from climbing yesterday that I only managed a half hour of guitar practice today, and I keep missing keys on the keyboard.
[21:37] matociquala: (Watson is mad at Holmes for telling Mycroft he wasn't dead)
[21:37] katallen: awh
[21:38] matociquala: (Holmes has been to Tibet.)
[21:38] katallen: dalying with lamas?
[21:38] matociquala: indeed
[21:38] matociquala: He seems oblivious to the fact that he's been rather cruel to poor Watson
[21:39] katallen: yes, poor John
[21:39] matociquala: And Mrs. Hudson is having hysterics
[21:40] stillnotbored: poor Mrs. Hudson
[21:40] matociquala: "Are you still in possession of your army revolver?"
[21:40] matociquala: He only loves Watson for his gun.
[21:41] katallen: ::grins::
[21:41] matociquala: "My dear Holmes, please, my bedroom is at your disposal."
[21:41] matociquala: ...
[21:42] matociquala: (Aw, he went to tuck Holmes in.)
[21:42] matociquala: (With a tartan blankie)
[21:42] katallen: awh
[21:43] matociquala: *writes a thousand times on the internets, "I will not slash Holmes and Watson."*
[21:44] stillnotbored: lol
[21:45] matociquala: "I trust that age has not withered nor custom staled my infinite variety."
[21:50] katallen: o.o
[21:52] matociquala: "This empty house is my tree! And you are my tiger!"
[21:53] matociquala: "I hope you observed all precautions, Mrs. Hudson?"
[21:54] matociquala: "Oh yes sir, I went to it on my knees, exactly as you told me. I've a good crick in my back to prove it!"
[21:54] matociquala: ...