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

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So I ran with the moon and I ran with the night and the three of us were a terrible sight

I can tell my brain is busy with organizational work right now, because there's a lot of categorization going on. What follows is mostly banal thinking out loud.

So--the Faerie books (inaccurately so termed, as there are no Fae in OEJ) have a more or less official series title now, as Blood & Iron is continuing its job-hunt now subtitled, "A Novel of the Promethean Age." I wanted to call it "The Chronicles of a Promethean Age" on the theory that there could, in fact, be more than one Promethean Age, but that was deemed unwieldy. So The Promethean Age it is. Hopefully, that will not be confused with The Baroque Cycle. (If you're one of the people playing along at home, this particular Promethean Age started in Rheims in the late 16th century and endured until 31 October 1997, a full moon night. And yes, I actually do have to keep track of this stuff for these books. You should see my Elizabethan lunar calendar. Actually, I wonder what I did with my Elizabethan lunar calendar....)

Yes, there is a Prometheus. Yes, he does like playing with fire. (That was funny to about three people. Nevermind.)

There are four of them written currently (Blood & Iron, One-Eyed Jack, The Stratford Man: The Tragedies, and The Stratford Man: The Comedies) and one (Whiskey & Water) about 15% complete. (fifty pages, oddly enough, the length of a standard novel proposal. *coff*). I currently have two more planned--Balm & Oil (Victorian Imperialism! Tsavo Lions! Dusty African sunlight! Supernatural beings! The triumphant return of a somewhat shaky-handed Magnus Larssen!) and Unsuitable Metal, which is an urban fantasy set in the Soviet Union in 1942. The Ukrainian werewolves, unsurprisingly, are demanding something more than a cameo role in this one. Yeah, I saw that one coming, too.

But first, I have to deal with this bunyip.


Carnival is giving me nothing, so of course Whiskey & Water is sidling up to me whispering sweet nothings in my ear. 'cause I need to give the horsie and the poet their scenes in chapters two and three, and they've decided they really like several tracks on Wrecking Ball ("Deeper Well" and "Going Back to Harlan").

This is not helpful to me unless Kelpie is willing to act like the primeval, wicked thing he is, instead of being all fluffy and lovesick as he was the last few times I checked in with him. Wicked, horsie. Wicked.

What happens when you tame the ocean anyway? I can't imagine it would be good. Actually, I can think of one faction in this book for whom it would be very good.

Anyway, this book is just going to have to wait its turn, because I have done that writing-the-book-in-between-the-other-books-thing--with One-Eyed Jack--and it's more work planing the chunks smooth than it is in pushing through the stalled spots.

I suppose it's a sign of thematic unity or something that both books I need to write this year are steeped in Emmylou Harris.

Notice how much I spam my journal when my backbrain tells my conscious mind to go out for a smoke or something, we'll call you when we're ready?

I wish I could bottle the crack my subconscious is smoking.

I found some love and I found some money
Found that blood would drip from the honey
Found I had a thirst that I could not quell
Lookin' for the water from a deeper well

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