it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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Things that make you go hmmmmm....

Eudora's spellchecker does not know Marlowe, Ginsberg, or Moloch, but it does know Mephistopheles.

***

This is the annoying thing about fiction. The more I write it, the more I realize I cannot possibly know enough about ANYTHING to write fiction, because I have to know everything about everything to be able to do it well. Can we talk about the massive case of impostor syndrome I'm developing currently regarding this freaking short story I'm writing?

I'd better win a Hugo for this thing, is all I'm saying. 4 or 5K short, and I've written novels that took less research and thinking and stuff.

And let's talk about the part where it's likely unsalable due to the weirdness of the nontrad format, too. *g*

I was just whining to stillsostrange about just this same thing:



[13:35] matociquala: My short stories usually don't take nearly as much research as my novels.
[13:35] matociquala: actually, a lot of times they're side effects of novel research.
[13:36] stillsostrange: people need to post interesting things on LJ so I can catwax.
[13:36] stillsostrange: Or write this scene for me.
[13:37] stillsostrange: okay, I think I see a way out
[13:43] matociquala: But this particular one involves Christian myth, several generations of poets, gay bars, New York City in 1962, WWII, and trying to figure out how a koi got court-martialed. :-P
[13:43] matociquala: *writes Amanda's scene*
[13:43] stillsostrange: heh
[13:43] stillsostrange: Mine just has a funeral and zombies
[13:43] matociquala: Here, you read Ginsberg for a while
[13:43] stillsostrange: And the scouse git.
[13:43] matociquala: My eyes have started to glaze over at the word "sphincter."
[13:44] stillsostrange: *snerk*





"L'esprit d'escalier"

New Words: 932
Total Words:2532
Pages: 14
Reason for stopping: regrouping
Mammalian Assistance: Marlowe being a lap cat and a keyboard cat; a rare enlappification from Mithrandir, who is normally shy, and who (at twenty-odd pounds) can numb a lap quite effectively; Ollie winding around my ankles (and I still kid myself he looks better); Paladin underfoot; Signy with the cold wet nose in my armpit
Stimulants: rose congou
Exercise: squats
Mail: nomail
Tyop du jour: Nothing exciting today, alas.
Books in progress: Ed Sanders, Tales of Beatnik Glory; Nancy Milford, Savage Beauty: the life of Edna St. Vincent Millay; James A. Hetley, The Summer Country
Other writing-related work: none
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