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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It was the dark, dark night of the collective soul

I am already deep in frustration with the Riggs book. Not because of the content or the agenda (Marlowe biographies all have agendas) but because the narrative voice is both precious and condescending, all at once. Growf. Oh, and he's already indulging in textual analysis. I swear.

In four hundred years, I'll have been an immortal Catholic pedophile dragon. My word.

The problem is, the book is rich and detailed and authoritative and wonderfully researched and full of everything I needed to know two years ago. Fortunately, I get two more rewrites on The Stratford Man, so I can use this stuff.

If only it weren't so... very much itself.

Progress notes for 18 August 2005:


New Words: 1537
Total Words: 43,640 / 50,250
Notecards destroyed: 0
Pages: 201

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
50,250 / 110,000

Page 200. I ask for sex, they give me schmoop. Men.
Reason for stopping: End of scene
Mammalian Assistance:  Marlowe came and sat on me for a while, as did Mith
Stimulants: Seltzer, cranberry-and-tonic
Exercise: 40 minutes Gothercise
Mail: Well, it's official. Much like Richard Thompson, I can't win. Remember the previous reviewer, who thought Scardown should have been two books? Paul di Filippo thinks the whole trilogy would have made one nice, average-sized paperback. (But at least Charles Brown still loves me.) Overall, though, he seems to have liked it, and it's a very nice review which I have no argument with at all. I'm just... struck by the dichotomy. *g* Is all.

I still haven't a new idea in my head, though. Sorry, Peter.

Actually, I've figured out one thing I did that's throwing people. The nanotech in the Jenny books has hard limitations. It's not magic dust and it's not grey goo. It's, you know... microscopic robots. With a really complex operating system. They do microscopic robot things. And not much more. 

This seems to confuse people. ;-)

(This is, for me, the hardest part of professional writing. And I suspect it's the thing that breaks a lot of writers, both would-be and newly published. The sad fact of the matter is that whatever I put out there is the best book I can possibly write at the time when I am writing it. I'm operating at the edge of my ability 90% of the time. (Okay, One-Eyed Jack was not an edge-of-the curve kind of book. But I still learned things writing it.) And I have to know, writing it, that no matter what I do, it's not going to work for a lot of readers. This is not a whinge. It's just an acknowledgment. They're never good enough. And they never will be.)

Today's words Word don't know: strappado
Words I'm surprised Word do know: n/a
Tyop du jour: Vincent piked up his wine glass.
Darling du jour: too dirty to repeat.
Books in progress, but not at all quickly: Richard Overy, Russia's War: A History of the Soviet War Effort, 1941-1945; David Riggs, The World of Christopher Marlowe; Jon Courtenay Grimwood, Pashazade
Books Read: David Crystal, Pronouncing Shakespeare;
Mean things: I made a six year old cry.
Other writing-related work:  Edited and rewrote an article for RE to the tune of 500 words or so, did some rewriting on Stratford Man because I woke up this morning with one of the poets' rounds of terrible dirty puns in my head. Speaking of self-indulgent.

Fairly soon, I mean to write a post about ownership of skills.

I've determined that ccfinlay is the reincarnation of William Shakespeare. It's the only thing that explains the damned puns.

Interesting tidbits: none.
Tags: carnival, progress notes, reviews
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