October 27th, 2008

phil ochs troubador

(no subject)

Actual progress! In a progresslike fashion! I wrote 3,492 words today. Alas, only 1316 of those were on Chill. But that's still five pages I didn't have yesterday. And they have actual plot in.

Maybe tomorrow I will have some idea what goes in Chapter 15.

Man, I sure hope so.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
293 / 400

And so to bed.
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writing rengeek magpie mind

I hate you. Where's my chicken?

Whew. The Kirkus review of All the Windwracked Stars is in, and even they couldn't find anything too bitchy to say about it (for those of you who have never had the dubious pleasure of a review from Kirkus, this is a little like getting past Mr. Richard Blackwell with only a single round of alliteration) so they simply spoiled the entire novel.

Seriously. They probably explicated a good 50% of the plot. So if you want to read the Cliff's Notes version so you can pretend you read the book, it's Collapse )

However, if you would actually like to read the book one of these days, I offer the money shot:

A gnarled, overstuffed, heavyweight yarn from the farthest fringes of the speculative genre - in those terms, a howling success.

From Kirkus, that's like a blow job AND a bag of cheetos. Hey, casacorona, can we put "a howling success--Kirkus" on the paperback? *g*

(Sure, Amazon has that one posted, and not the starred reviews from Booklist or PW. *snrch*)
spies avengers steed and peel needed

poor little greenie

Hurm. Yeah, so I was virtuous and did hosuekeeping, like answering interview questions and posting to my super-neglected Amazon blog. And I read over Friday's and yesterday's additions to Sanction Chill and did the fussy fussing thing.

And then I made tea, washed the dishes, wrote 77 words and now I'm stuck.

One of the problems with these books is that they require so much concentrated inventiveness that I run out of Cool Shit pretty fast. I basically have to create a new setting and worldbuild it every thirty pages, and it's kind of challenging. (I have a note to myself in the headers that says GONZO, DAMMIT. You can run out of gonzo pretty fast at this level.) And right now, I have to figure out what sort of gorgeous scenery [spoiler] has to cross to get to the lair of the beast, and gorgeous scenery is not my strong point, all in all.

Using my theory of working hardest when the work is most rewarded, and buggering off to do something else also needful when it's just not happening, the virtupus thing to do today would be to go do the  paperwork I need to do, then box up the stuff I have to mail to people, go for a walk in the beautiful fall day to bring them to the post office, and then saddle up with my list of victims and head over to my beloved farm stand to buy cider and get some apples shipped to deserving apple victim sorts. 

And then report to the climbing gym for my ceremonial ass-kicking, yes.

Walking and driving often knock story stuff loose in my head, so if I'm lucky what will happen is tonight, after climbing, I will be able to curl up with my laptop and get the next scene on paper. And it's more productive than sitting here staring at the blank page, waiting for my brain to get bored enough to generate some words in self-defense.

Of such strategies are writing careers made....
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    Vitas Bumas - Opera 2

that's me in the spotlight

Objectively, that was not a great climbing night. Subjectively, however, it was just fine.

I warmed up on a blue 5.7 I like (it's strengthy, mostly. It takes a lot of go to get on it when you're as heavy as I am, and there are a couple of big moves that are all arms) and then came back to challenge that white route with the corner that I have failed on the last two times I tried it. They have rated it--they rated it 5.7, which comforts me--and this time I managed to send it, though it's still not easy. There's a bit coming around the corner that takes a big push and a lot of smearing for me--I'm just the wrong height for either of the available footholds--and I finally made it and stuck it after several tries.

Then, I failed a lot. I came back to the 5.9 that I had been doing reliably before it was rated, and I had a hell of a time getting past the crux. Some of it was that I was tired from the earlier route, and some of it was that they put a hold for another route on the damned arete right where my hand goes. So I can't put my hand there anymore, because now it's cheating, and I had to find a different balance point. And I fell off a lot until I found it, and then I was too tired to finish the route. Dammit.

Wednesday I am coming back.

(Wednesday I also want to try the neon yellow route I was never able to make the second move on, because I am both lighter and stronger now, and that was what was stopping me before. You know, if I can get my weight down around 175, I could be kind of a monster.)

Anyway, I tried to finish out the night on a 5.7- I've done twice, and I just could not hit it right. Not enough grip strength to stay on this one particularly tricky hold. Big fall the first time I came off it, lots of slack in the rope, but you know, I didn't bounce. And any landing where you miss the ground is a good one.

Anyway, something very interesting has made itself evident. My cardio fitness was pretty good before I started climbing--I was walking regularly and hitting the ski machine and treadmills. But treadmill is not sidewalk, and so it was the kind of cardio fitness that's adequate for running up a couple flights of stairs or hiking four or six miles in relative comfort. It wasn't the kind of cardio fitness that lets you keep throwing yourself futilely at a vertical wall for half an hour and bounce back.

But now, between the climbing and the running, my cardio is freaking awesome. I can, in fact, keep hurling myself at the same stupid move and failing it for half an hour, if that's what it takes, and what stops me is not blood oxygen deficit but the fact that I notice that my hands will no longer stay on the holds, or my arms can no longer pull me up on it.

...and the end result of that is that all of a sudden I'm making strength gains like mad. So help me, God, my bodybuilder neck has resurrected itself. When I turn my head, you can see the muscle fibers.

I'm actually learning to do this. Which is pretty damned cool, because there were weeks when it seemed like I was never going to get anywhere.

And now I will have peach praline pie and some cheap Australian shiraz for dinner, because I have earned it, brother. (Climber girls are hot because they eat. That is all.)

Also, only 7 more days until the political commercials are out of our lives for another four years. Can I get an AMEN?