There are these tiny purple flowers that grow wild in our lawn and fosteronfilm is going to have to mow soon and thereby bring keen-edged death to them. I picked a handful and stuck them into a couple shot glasses, but I have no idea what they are. Anyone recognize them?
sara1221 swung by yesterday to crash for the night as she scouts new apartment locales in the area. Had a lovely time gabbing with her. We meant to watch The Brothers Grimm, but we all got to talking so much that it never came about.
My brain is full.
The weekend was manic, but I accomplished much. My Things to Do list is now of manageable size–it’s still large, but I no longer feel so overwhelmed–and the house is cleaner (spurred about by the arrival of sara1221 later today). I even found a skein of yarn, which is sort of like finding candy–the kind of candy you can’t eat but that you can crochet with.
fosteronfilm convinced me to try Radio Yahoo. He likes how you can customize your own station by rating the songs it selects for you based upon some initial preference selections. I’m finding it distracting. I keep being pulled out of whatever I’m doing whenever there’s a song change to rank it. And also, since I’m using the free version, it pops up with commercials every few songs–the same commercials, about three of them, over and over again. I’m thinking I’ll probably go back to playing MP3s on my computer.
Wallace & Gromit won the Oscar for Best Animated Feature! Yay! Although I wish they’d decrease the number of hokey skits the presenters do at the award ceremony so the winners could have more than ten seconds to give their acceptance speeches. It seems rude to shoo them off stage, especially when they’re supplanted by the likes of Ben Stiller doing an exceptionally lame green screen gag.
Do people view editors who are also writers differently than plain-jane “I just write” writers? I can’t help but think of, say, Gardner Dozois as an editor first and foremost, even though he’s no longer the editor of Asimov’s**. With my myriad editorial hats, I find myself wondering if my readers (those dozen or so of you wonderful and discriminating people out there) see me as primarily an editor with writerly aspirations or a writer who has a proclivity for editing.
Yep, labels leave me blinking in the dust. I should quit trying to tangle with them.
*Any of you Tangent reviewers who just went twitchy, don’t read more into this than a desire to vent some steam. My Tangent hat remains jammed on my head. Also, lemme make it absolutely clear that none of y’all are in any way contributories to my current pressure build-up.
**Not, mind you, that I have the hubris to liken my endeavors to Gardner Dozois’s prodigious accomplishments.
My Things To Do list is about to overflow the screen and drown me, so a very quick update:
Yesterday was the first Dragon*Con all-staff meeting. I should’ve emailed my staff before now to confirm who’s coming back; I have no idea what my numbers are currently. If any of y’all who I haven’t already heard from about working Daily Dragon staff this year are reading this, please email me to lemme know your status. If you’ve already contacted me this year (amazing, wonderful people who obviously have their acts far more together than me), we’re cool.
Watched Howl’s Moving Castle (Hauru no ugoku shiro) last night. It was absolutely delightful. I was charmed by the incidental and secondary characters–the scarecrow, Hin, Calcifer–as well as the world and whimsical setting. And I found the love story between Sofi and Howl very satisfying. I also liked how the metaphors, what there were of them, were understated. Howl’s magical meltdown as allegory for teenage angst and insecurity was nothing short of brilliant. Very well done.
But it wasn’t Wallace and Gromit in the Curse of the Were-Rabbit.
Received:
– Payment from Dragonfly Spirit for “Kaawwa, Naagan, and the Queen’s Diamond Necklace.”
– Contract from Faeries for “Returning My Sister’s Face.”
New Words: 400 words on a new Japanese fantasy because my muse is an unrelenting shrew who likes to torment me with ideas when I already have too much on my plate to deal with. And I, of course, cannot deny her. Gah!
Club 100 For Writers
Erm. I lost count. But it feels like I’ve been working like a maniac. I’m calling it “10.”
Weird night. I fell asleep early on the couch and woke up around midnight. Hobkin was curled at my hip so I booted my laptop to do some work downstairs. fosteronfilm turned on The Punisher, a movie I was somewhat curious about when it hit the theaters but didn’t end up going to.
I’m a wimp when it comes to scary movies, but I consider myself pretty tough-skinned and jaded with regard to action/adventure flicks, so I didn’t expect to have any difficulty with The Punisher. Apparently, IMDB classifies it as Crime/Drama/Thriller, but I don’t always understand or agree with IMDB’s classifications. Plus, the movie’s based on a comic book. Action/adventure/crime/drama/thriller or whatever, one scene squicked me out so totally and absolutely that I shrilled at fosteronfilm “turn it off! turn it off!” astonishing both him and me.
So yeah, I found it so disturbing I couldn’t watch it all the way through. That doesn’t happen very often. Normally I know if I won’t be able to handle a movie, but this one tossed me a big ole curve. Didn’t get back to sleep until around 5AM, and I had bad dreams to boot.
However, despite the questionable night, I’m having a great day, thanks to dsnight!
Received:
dsnight liked “Honor is a Game Mortals Play” and wants it for Heroes in Training! Squee! I’ve got a bookshelf full of DAW titles, many of which I read and fell in love with when I was just a wee fangirl. I’m thrilled giddy to have one of my stories in a DAW anthology! Squee SQUEE SQUEE!
Published:
“Kaawwa, Naagan, and the Queen’s Diamond Necklace” is now up at Dragonfly Spirit. In addition to the cover art featuring my tale, Lauren Francis did another absolutely charming illustration for it.
I’ve been bombarded by a recurring theme of birds ever since I was struck by that writer-as-duck metaphor yesterday. It’s weird and I keep having to shoo away the little mystic in my head who’s clapping her hands and hopping up and down going “Ooo, signs and portents! Signs and portents!”*
So, I was writing in the library this morning, and I had some quiet classical music, Debussy, playing in the background. Piano music is usually good for me to work to because it’s low-key (pardon the pun) and provides nice ambiance without being overbearing. And I heard geese honking (loudly) as they flew by overhead.
Now there should be no geese in these parts, as last I checked, my subdivision isn’t harboring a pond anywhere in the vicinity. But okay, maybe they were en route somewhere. Geese do that. Although this is the first time I’ve heard geese since we moved to Georgia. But hey, geese are pretty common, right? And it’s not like I spend a lot of time with my ears perked, scanning for outdoor wildlife noises.
Then I realized what was currently playing: Debussy’s “Arabesque No 1,” the same music that occurs during the dinner scene in Alfred Hitchcock’s classic, The Birds.
Surreal coincidence, yo.
So yeah, I switched to Rachmaninov.
* I need to do something about her one of these days. She keeps tripping up my avowed dedication to being a skeptic.
Obviously, I need to smack my little mystic and tell her to sod off.
Editing:
– Received the last crits for “Honor is a Game Mortals Play” (thanks canadiansuzanne and palmerwriter!), completed the final draft, stuck a fork into it, and emailed it off to dsnight. Rah!
– Still working on the edit/rewrite of the story from 2004. The prose is feeling much better now, and I even managed to bring out its theme to greater effect. Progress commenceth.
Watched Sense and Sensibility last night. I’ve never seen it before. Actually, I haven’t seen much in the way of Jane Austen movies.
It was charming. Absolutely girlie and gushy, but in a good way. Even fosteronfilm gave it his (grudging) “enjoyable” stamp of approval. Although he was quick to qualify that with “for a girlie movie.”
Now I want to see Pride & Prejudice, both the new one with Keira Knightley and the mini series with Colin Firth.
I think I’ve got the romance bug. It is getting to be spring, after all.
“I love the way you weave in just enough explanation of cultural/supernatural elements in your stories . . . I know . . . such outward simplicity bespeaks a lot of frantic scrambling behind the scenes.”
Aside from the happy glow I got from the high praise, it also conjured up an evocative image of writers-as-ducks. Y’know how ducks and geese are so serene and graceful on the water, while beneath the surface, they’re paddling like mad? That’s a great metaphor for writers. There we are, tearing at our hair and gnashing our teeth, agonizing over whether to use a semicolon or a comma, while we present our pristine manuscripts to editors with unruffled grace and aplomb.
Here’s to us writer-ducks. Quack.
Received:
– 55-days to a personal “The writing is lovely but . . .” rejection from Shelia Williams at Asimov’s with invite to submit again. I opened up the story to read it over–I haven’t really looked at it since I declared it “done” in 2004–and absolutely cringed. I think she was being charitable to call the writing “lovely.” I’m mortified I’ve been sending this manuscript out to editors.
While I believe it’s a good story at its heart, I seem to have thrown every notion of “tight prose” out the window on this one. I honestly don’t know what I could’ve been thinking. So yeah, I went to town with my virtual red pen. I ended up chopping out a good 1K before I called it a night. I’d like to give it another couple passes before I consider sending it out again.
I had a bout of free-floating doldrums last night. Experienced an overwhelming and irrational desire to have a meltdown during the story NBC aired before the Olympics Closing Ceremonies on Lt. Vernon J. Baker receiving the Medal of Honor. It was a good story, poignant and thought-provoking, with elements of heart-wrenching, but not the sort of thing that ought to have reduced me to tears.
As it turns out, I did manage to refrain from doing a Chernobyl, although I couldn’t pull myself out of my mood. I ended up slumped on the couch, wallowing in my emotional disequilibrium, and then retreating to an early bedtime.
At a loss, fosteronfilm sat on the couch, just holding me (after several failed forays into trying to cheer me up) until I fell asleep. It was the perfect (and only) thing he could have done to help. I have a great hubby.
I seem to be over it now, but it makes me wonder if I’m still dealing with SSRI withdrawal. Or, more worrisomely, if I should consider going back on them.
Stupid brain.
They’re being conservative on determining eligibility during the crossover period between old and new rules, so it appears I am indeed eligible this year. I sent them my bio and bibliography to list on their official “Eligible Authors” page. It’s unlikely I’ll make it on the ballot, especially at this late date, but it’s a pretty thought.
Anyone planning on going to WorldCon (L.A.con IV)?
Received:
– 38-day pass from Escape Pod on a reprint with invite to send more. Stephen liked it, but didn’t think the story was quite right for them. I had some doubts myself, as the story is quite dark and has some tricky tone switches, so I’m not surprised.
– The crits continue to pile up for “Honor is a Game Mortals Play” (thanks basletum!) and I’m officially behind on my Thank You notes.
Yep, I’m a grown-up adult (so says my driver’s license and mortgage). But it’s the comforts I treasured as a child that inevitably give me peace when I’m seeking a bit of serenity, not the more sophisticated pleasures I’ve acquired a taste for–which, while enjoyable and enervating, can’t give me that tranquility I remember taking for granted as a little girl. I’m fully convinced that we are who we were, no matter how many years we rack up. It’s the folks who suppress their childhood indulgences who are deceiving themselves.
Insight brought on by a Saturday spent pandering to my inner child, starting off with a several hour marathon of Saturday morning cartoons. Ever since I was a wee girl, I have loved spending Saturday mornings camped out on the floor in front of the TV, basking in animated goodness. Sure with the cartoon network, the Disney channel, and other cable cartoon outlets, I can (and often do) watch cartoons whenever I like, but there’s something special about waking up on Saturday for them.
Netflix sent both Madagascar and MirrorMask. Perfect inner child food.
I’d heard some questionable reviews about Madagascar, and I’m way underwhelmed by Chris Rock and Ben Stiller, so I went in not expecting much, but I ended up totally charmed. The penguins were brilliant, but even the Rock/Stiller dyad was well done. And, of course, the various homages stuck in for the parents to appreciate were gigglesome. Very much enjoyed it.
MirrorMask was gorgeous. I loved the fairy tale mood, although there was a certain “This is a metaphor! *bam bam* We’re being deep! *thump*” happening too. But aside from the ham-fisted extolling to revel in the symbolism NOW, it was absolutely lovely. Reminded me of Labyrinth, which I guess is an inevitable comparison, since the hand of Henson was in both. But MirrorMask is an older, more sophisticated movie than Labyrinth, with characters that are unnerving and alluring instead of just cute and fluffy.
And I got a package in the mail from zhai, a GoPets t-shirt for Hobkin! An opportunity to inflict “dress up” upon the fuzzwit. Mega thanks, zhai!
Now Hobkin isn’t exactly receptive to the idea of wearing clothes, so my first foray into getting him into the shirt was a dismal failure:
I’ve been short of breath and having tightness in my chest these last few days, something I haven’t had to deal with for many months now. I actually needed to break out the Albuterol several times (probably more than is recommended) yesterday and today. Weird. Is it stress? Or did I inhale a dust monkey by accident?
Finished watching yukinooruoni‘s DVD set of Sports Night. Definitely a top-notch show, although I think the writing had a bit more of a comedic edge in the first season. I never got another roaring belly laugh moment to match the one I had at Natalie’s first season “cure” for writer’s block. Still, plenty of laugh-out-loud moments. The drama parts didn’t hold up as well without the intense comedy to bolster it, and the finale was a pretty massive Deus ex machina. Nevertheless, it was an excellent series, and I am massively bummed they canceled it. There was still much they could’ve done with the characters.
Also finally got a chance to see Corpse Bride a la Netflix. It was better than I had expected. I liked very much how the land of the living was so dreary and deathly dull while the land of the dead was all bright and lively. Nice bit of claymation-depicted irony. And of course, everything Tim Burton touches is pretty.
And y’know, after not looking at the story for a few days and coming back to it with fresh eyes, I like it. That’s immensely gratifying.
dsnight, at this rate, you can expect to have the ms on your desk next week.
I’ve also started dwelling upon what I want to do with “Nobodies and Somebodies,” rewrite-wise. I asked my Aberrant Dreams editor what sort of deadline I’m looking at.
For someone who’s unemployed, I’m agog at how my plate overfloweth.
