It's only appropriate that Red Dirt Girl and Wrecking Ball wound up being the theme albums for a book that's essentially an libertarian feminist dystopia, with flesh-eating AIs. Such is the fleeting but inevitable irony of a writer's life.
Like falling stars from the universe we were hurled
Down through the long loneliness of the world
Until we behold the pain become the pearl.
I solved a plot point last night. It means I have to turn Lesa's kid into an actual character, though. Why is my subconscious suddenly convinced it can write ten year olds? Who the hell can actually write ten year olds?
Progress notes for 7 September 2005:
New Words: 2,473
Total Words: 78,815 / 93,750
Pages: 375--about 65 pages to go. Guess I'd really better see about wrapping this up. Eeeee. I guess I need to reunite our heroes, kill some people, and work my way around to the solution.
Mammalian Assistance: The mastiff came in to sing to me for cookies. I guess he feels better.
Stimulants: ceylon tea
Today's words Word don't know: Urdu, indeterminacies
Words I'm surprised Word do know: n/a
Tyop du jour: n/a
Darling du jour: He looked at her standing there, open-eyed, empty-palmed, and for a moment almost managed to think of her as human.
Books in progress, but not at all quickly: Richard Overy, Russia's War: A History of the Soviet War Effort, 1941-1945; Ladislas Farago, The Game of the Foxes; Leigh Richards, Califia's Daughters;
Mean things: Poor kid. Sorry to completely screw up your future like that.
Other writing-related work: n/a
Interesting tidbits: Fourth sister? (via sclerotic_rings)
Our path is worn, our feet are poorly shod
We lift up our prayers against the odds
And fear the silence is the voice of God--