December 6th, 2010

shotgun spies mfu illya

each day the light gets born. from the body of the night it's torn.

Well, that was a productive day. I finished and filed my Realms of Fantasy columns (yay!) and I got a thousand words written on the SF novella I'm currently calling "The Deeps of the Sky." It was previously called "Seed," and it might go back to that, but I think I like the new title better.

I'm tremendously excited about this one. It's made of bizarre exobiology and gas giants and awesome, but I'm currently a bit stumped on my protagonist's motivation and the plot. I could probably try to get around that by just spending 100 pages describing awesome things about a giant planet's atmosphere. But I suspect the savvier readers would catch on eventually.

So that was good, a good writing day and a good thinking and research day. Now I think I have to let it cook until it grows some action. It's already curled itself up away from the original shape I had in mind, necessitating the removal of an opening line I liked a lot, which goes like this:

Stormchases was sailing the tropopause when the aliens came. 

and which is no longer in the story.

Well, I have two book reviews I still need to write for Tor, so if it needs a couple of days to cook, I guess I will be okay and productive anyway.

Productive feels like a good and necessary thing right now.

Oh, and I picked up another part-time gig. Every little bit helps, right? I am the Gen-X stereotype of the living cobbled together out of patchwork.

Off to climb in a bit here. And then who knows what the night will bring?



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