Total accumulation for the next 24 hours predicted as 7-17 inches.
Yes, we have toilet paper.
I think I'll go for my run sooner rather than later, though. It's starting to turn to snowlight out there.
Everything I'm wearing either came from Lands' End or Eastern Mountain Sports, except the camisole and underpants.
...when did I turn into one of those?
All right. BREAKFAST NOW.
I am very sad that I just had to turn down an opportunity to speak at SXSW interactive, because I was already committed to the Tucson Festival of Books. Because dude, talk about awesome.
However! I will be one of the guests of honor at Gaylaxicon over the Halloween weekend in Montreal, and I hope to see some of you there. (And perhaps go gothing once more?)
Proof copies of the secrit projekt (Which is called, predictably, Veronique is Visiting from Paris) I did with kylecassidy just arrived. We're still working on distribution and packaging, but the actual content looks gorgeous. Now I need to send these out to people I mean to importune for blurbs...
It has been one of those mornings that's really quite productive, even though no words have gotten written. I'm at a point with the scene I need to write where I know what it needs to do structurally, but the actual narrative content is a mystery to me. ($subantagonist needs to make contact with $antagonist, provide information to same, receive instructions, and get sinister all over the page. But the mechanics of the scene--what happens, as opposed to what it must accomplish--elude me.)
However, I did answer a ton of business email, buy my plane tickets for the TFOB and Shadow Unit Staff Meeting (aka CupCakeCon), and eat way too much brunch.
And the Snowpocalypse has finally arrived, which is good, because I need to shovel off some of that toast if I'm going to earn hot cocoa and schnapps later on. Snow, little snowpocalypse! SNOW!
All right. Time to make tea and quit faffing about. At the very least, I should be staring at this scene if I cannot yet write it.
Well, I got the Missing Scene for Ch. 7 of Grail written to the tune of 580 words. This was all harder than it had to be because of a massive attacks of bad brain chemicals*. Now I am consoling myself with milkfat (hot cocoa) and booze (schnapps). And there is delivery Indian on the way. Sadly, I suppose the funny man with the lovely phone voice is not on the menu....
...yeah, that would be the schnapps on an empty stomach talking.
This is a sad, sad excuse for a snowpocalypse so far.
Left on tonight's to-do list:
Eat my weight in curry and poori
Front page thingy for SU
Edit next chapter
Blog post for Charlie's Diary
Sign and package books and postcards to mail (this is so getting bumped to tomorrow)
Watch Criminal Minds and Leverage.
5) Etsy unicorn porn shop. Do I have to say this is NSFW?
3) I think I'm cashing it in on work tonight. I have realized that part of what's wrong with me right now is post-novel ennui, pursuant to The White City and The Unicorn Evils. Fine, fine, I only have a hundred and fifty pages left to write. I can afford to ignore this for a little while and let my creative facility refill.
4) Man, I fail alcoholic writer. I have to quit at three or I am up all night, and alcohol is not better than insomnia.
2) I just now realized that Benedick Conn as I am writing him is one part Chris Smither and one part Jamie Hyneman*.
1) I still miss wilfulcait