October 12th, 2009

writing whiskey soul

and the painted ponies go up and down

Save me, Internets! You're my only hope!

Quick! Haunted/possessed/demonic/evil/magical carousel horses! Fiction or alleged nonfiction, genre and medium unimportant. I know there are a ton of these out there, and the Oak Bluffs ponies (which are clearly bound demons--compare horses at other antique carousels in San Diego CA and Hartford, CT*) have me thinking about whether there's an interesting way to reinvent them.

ETA: No really, guys. I'm looking for EXISTING STORIES AND FOLKLORE about magic carousel horses. Not links to historical carousels, and not suggestions as to what I should write about. Thank you!

*Here is my most beloved horse at the Bushnell Park carousel. Isn't he gorgeous? 

writing dust rengeek shakespeare

they live on candy apples instead of oats and hay

I love my Jacob's Ladder icons so very much. It's almost worth working on the book to use them.

To give you an idea of what going over galleys or page proofs is like, here's the list of corrections I am sending my editor and her noble editorial assistant for the first five chapters of Chill:

p 3 line 34  "Holde" should be "holde", please
p 8 line 30 and 31: Please change "The Chief Engineer has already been released. So has Prince Benedict." to "Prince Benedict has already been released. So has the Chief Engineer."
p 12 line 21: please change "to observe how" to "to observe that" please
p 19 line 02: please removed the words "At least" and capitalize the word "failed"
p. 28 line 11: please change "panel" to "controls"
p. 46 line 15: please delete the word "indeed"

...yeah, sounds thrilling, doesn't it? Three hundred more pages to go. After I shower.

TBRE talked me into staying home from climbing today, as I am still coughing and sound like Marlene Dietrich, only not in the good way. Also, my Crippling Pedagogical Injury could probably use some more time to heal before I jam my foot into a climbing shoe**.

So I will be holed up on the sofa with the dog and my page proofs today.

The current Honeydew*:

# Write Grail
# Revise The White City and its attendant chapbook, which might be called "The Forty Times Forty."
Or might not.
# Write A Reckoning of Men (with truepenny)
# Write "The Unicorn Evils" (with coffeeem)
#Write "Spell 81a" (with stillsostrange)
#Write "Uniform" (ensemble!)
# Write "Ligature"
# Maybe write The Steles of the Sky if it sells, or do some more work on it to send back out if it doesn't.
# Maybe write Karen Memory if it sells, or do some more work on it to send back out if it doesn't.
# Continue working on Smile
# Schizophrenic levitation time travel vignette secret project thingy
# Space opera thingy
# Vampirism thingy
# Singularity Rent novel
# Noir thingy
# Carousel thingy (which might also be the noir thingy)

*Not counting small obligations like page proofs and all the things I have to mail to people. The good news is, other than various Go Be A Famus Riter daytrips in October and November and one small camping trip, I have no travel planned until Readercon and Fourth Street next year. Which is a Very Good Thing, because I need the time to work.

Cons, man. Much as I love you all, they kill my momentum and productivity something fierce.
lion in winter broken because you're bri

feets don't fail me now... okay maybe just a little

**So about that Crippling Pedagogical Injury--

Well, basically, while I was doing the Wednesday Night Indoctrination (which may be moved to Thursday Night next year) I--no, that's too in media res. So, anyway. Monday, I managed to give myself a blister between my baby toe and my second toe, due to trapped sand while walking on the beach. Now, this is not an unusual event for me--my baby and second toes are on sidways (I have slightly weird-shaped feet: my middle two toes are also longer than my big toe, which makes buying climbing shoes a pain in the butt)--and Uncle Jim Macdonald kindly taped up my toe for me so I could walk on it without pain.

Well, the tape came off, and before I got around to replacing it, I was, as one does, performing my ceremonial functions (barefoot and in pajamas: must get slippers for next year) when I absentmindedly pivoted on my left foot.

And the blister tore.

Well, at the time, I was not yet aware that the blister had torn, so I thought I had stubbed the toe. And my autonomous nervous system sensibly attempted to remove my left foot from the surface that was causing it so much pain, which is to say the carpet in the Nantucket room. Of course, at this point, since I was pivoting on my left foot, all my weight was on it.

Cue hopping, sideways-flailing dance of attempting not to fall over, fall on anybody, or hit them on the head with the Book that was in my hand at the time.

I regained my balance, started to turn the page, and realized that my foot still really hurt. So I looked at it and saw the blood.


Cue Uncle Jim to the rescue again. (He is an EMT in his Secrit Other Life, and an exceptionally good one.) Anyway, he checked the wound, removed the skin flap, and dressed it for me, and the indoctrination proceeded with my foot propped on a chair and the Book being carried around by helpers.

It's all good. Or, you know, in hindsight? Pretty funny....

(Another version here. I confess to the whiskey, but really it was more of a limp than a stagger...)
  • Current Mood
    sore sore

(no subject)

I am engaging in Displacement Activity. I harvested out what was still out there in the garden and not underground, and then I pickled leeks and wax peppers and used habaneros and rosemary to make TNH's habanero oil. I also engaged in leftover salvage to make twice-cooked pasta and a veggie cheese sauce.

Now, further displacement includes wondering if going to Penzey's and buying vanilla beans and ancho chiles to make vanilla/chile extract for use in brownies and cocoa is a reasonable use of my day. (Ooo, and while I was out I could pick up oranges, and garlic, and apple cider...)

...and go to the bank.

I do need to go to the bank.

*eyes bottle of white rum*
*bottle of white rum eyes back*

My inner Chaz may be winning this one. (Ancho. Vanilla. Brownies. OMG.)