Everything from:unspeakable horror of the literary life

this moment of clarity, this moment of honesty

I’m so glad Christmas is almost over. It sucks the brain from my skull like the yolk from those fancy Ukrainian painted eggs. I cannot keep track of which words belong to which dates; I will now begin tracking my progress via total word counts. Also, this method prevents me from taking credit for all the crappy words which I later remove. It will, I am sure, lead to negative word counts during some periods (sigh). Not-a-Werewolf: 14,000.Godot: No progress; continues to suck.Last Duellists: Met with beta readers for awesome dinner and feedback, but haven’t yet actually fixed story.Dickensian Fantasy: um, somewhere north of 250,000 all told. Figured out how to fix part one; scared to start. Received for Christmas: silver acorn, print of family home, great quantity of drink, chipotle mustard, thing to make vichyssoise in.Still want for Christmas: luggage, huge biceps, correct spelling of “vichyssoise”. […]

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Bound for the corn and wine

For any of you from Envisage365 who are stopping by, here’s a taste of what you’ll receive on my return. (I don’t have email here although I have web access.) This place is full of gorgeousness. Although today’s image was actually quite utilitarian: my manuscript, taped to the wall. I was privileged to read the first few pages of my story for the rest of the workshop attendees today. An important person liked it. Actually, I’m pretty sure more than one important person liked it, particularly when I consider that many people here are likely in a state of potential importance, whether it is to me personally, to the world at large, or something in between. Elizabeth Bear tells us that stories are a loss leader. I wonder if they’re also something like remainders: the revenue per unit is low, but then, so is the cost; and they can entice readers who might not want to commit to something bigger without first having a taste. I’m going to sell this one: my first genre short story in two decades. I’ve been hoping all along that I would figure out how to get back into this part of my creative mind. […]

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Murphy’s Laws of Writing, In No Particular Order

It always takes twice as long as you think. The wireless will go down just when you need to know the title of that poem. If you have given only one bad review in your public life, that writer will find you, post flames on your blog, and do his or her level best to ensure that you never work in this town again. The unexpected immersion of one’s earphones in a glass of bourbon is a clear sign that it is time for bed. […]

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