Saint Sinner

Watched Saint Sinner last night with Matthew and Paul, the Clive Barker made-for-TV movie on the Sci-Fi channel. I think Clive Barker would be fun to hang with at a party. Or maybe he’d be kinda scary.

Having seen some of his other stuff, and read his horror short fiction, Saint Sinner came across as his attempt at horror comedy. He doesn’t elicit the same sorts of laughs that, oh, say Joss Whedon does with his brand of horror wit, but there was certainly a humorous irony that speckled the movie. It’s the kind of funny that makes you pull your lips back from your teeth and chuckle, rather than a delighted belly laugh.

And I don’t think Clive thinks people are very bright in general.

Overall, it was fun. Nothing monumental, but fun. And there was a LOT of gratuitous clothing. In a story about succubi, one would assume there would be nekkidness. And yet. Many strategically placed sheets, though.

I wish Clive owned the rights to Nightbreed so he could finish up the sequel. Now that was good Clive Barker.

Anonymity on the Internet

A topic has come up several times in chats between my husband and I, and now Paul. It’s about Internet anonymity. Our consensus appears to be that it’s too much responsibility for some people.

Sure, it’s nice to be able to say what you want behind a wall of facelessness. But it allows cowardly assholes to be as abusive and spiteful as they want, without fear of the normal retributions of such hateful behavior–such as a fist in the nose, or people knowing what sort of person you are.

Skunk bath, Paul, and Firefly

Gave Hobkin a bath this morning. He really does not like them. He kept trying to cling to my sweatshirt and pull himself out of the tub while still sudsy. And his tail kept flipping around, splattering me with soapy water. And the expression on his face! It was very “Why are you doing this to me, Mom? What did I do to deserve this treatment?” Poor thing. After I toweled him down he shook (of course) throwing water everywhere, and then scampered off to his area to hide under the hutch. Silly animal. I left him alone so I could go clean the bathroom up, and when I came back, he’d forgiven me and just wanted to cuddle. Now I have a damp skunk on my lap. Well, at least he smells like apples.

Our friend Paul is flying in today! Hurray! Much pre-Halloween merriness to ensue. Wonder if Hobkin will remember him from when he was here in August.

I liked Firefly a lot last night. After the first few episodes, I was pretty disappointed with it, but after last night’s, I’m interested again. Excellent pacing, excellent character development, and a much-needed explanation on the history of Serenity and her crew. It didn’t have the Joss dialogue moments I look for in anything he touches, but it was well written nevertheless. I hope they don’t cancel it now that it’s starting to get good.

I made Matthew go “squick!”

I had Matthew do first reader duties on my catharsis story the other day. Everything I write goes through him first before it gets sent through my critique groups gamut. He’s got a better eye for pacing and tone than anyone I know and my stories don’t graduate from zero draft to first draft status until after he’s had a go at them.

But, get this, my horrific little tale made him go squick. Hee! Matthew watches movies like Hellraiser and Poltergeist that send me cowering under the covers (yes, I’m a timid girlie-girl, shut up) and I wrote something that gave him the willies!

Rah!

Death of a story

Well, I believe the nail has gone into the coffin of the Halloween story. At the Shakespeare Tavern on Saturday, I had an idea for a light little SF tale, a bit of Picture of Dorian Gray meets Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I jotted it down in my idea file with the intention of back burnering it until after I’d finished up the other stuff I was working on. Well, the “catharsis” story is done and waiting for critique, but I still couldn’t get back into my Halloween tale. However, I’m 1500 words into my humorous SF ditty.

Sigh.

Ah well. The important thing is that the words flow. It’s irritating that they don’t always flow where I want them to, but at least they’re not bottlenecked behind some logjam.

I also wrote a 1000-word essay for the hell of it. Non-fiction is so much easier to write. I should start looking into more non-fiction markets, I suppose. They pay better and there’s a bigger demand for it. It’s just not where my interests lay. But it’s really so much easier. Argh.

In other news, Paul is coming down to visit next week for the traditional Foster Halloween fête. Hurray! And next week Nick will join him. And I still don’t have a costume. I think this weekend we need to make a trip out to Party City for some Halloweeny goodness.

Story complete!

Finished up my “catharsis” story and then went back in to cull. Managed to lop off around 1000 words, leaving it a nice, manageable 6500. Yay!

I’ve queued it up at Critters. I debated using an MPC, but I think I’d rather try to finish the Halloween story this week rather than mull over the critiques coming in.

According to my logs, this is the first story I’ve completed since early August–calculations based upon completion of zero draft, not finished product. Glah. That’s too much time. Way too much time.

But, looking at the big picture, I’m well within my goal of twelve short stories a year. This one makes my eleventh for 2002. Rah. Sort of.

New ottoman and non-Shakespeare

Yesterday, Matthew and I did our part in getting money circulating into the economy. We bought a matching ottoman for our new couch! Yay! Okay, maybe not everyone finds the prospect of new furniture as exciting as I do. Moving right along . . .

We also went to the Shakespeare Tavern to see their late night play “Tales of Terror and Fancy.” They did a storyteller’s version of three shorts: “The Book of Blood” by Clive Barker, “The Happy Prince” by Oscar Wilde, and “Sikes and Nancy” by Charles Dickens. Very Halloweeny. I liked “The Happy Prince” the best. I’ve loved that fairy tale since I first read it as a wee lass, and Oscar Wilde is one of my favorite authors. “The Book of Blood” was nicely eerie. Clive Barker does a distinctive brand of horror that has great ambiance, although like a lot of writers, I think he’s extremely variable. I was less impressed by “Sikes and Nancy” as I thought it ran a bit long, but I’m not really big on Dickens, so that might account for it. It was still all very well done, an enjoyable show. And they’ve added sour cream coffee cake to their late night menu. Mmm.

This late night thing is new for the Shakespeare Tavern this season. Show time is 11 PM after a regular-timed play. The next one is another Wilde play, “Salome.” Again, one of my favorites. I’m curious to see how they’re going to do the Dance of the Seven Veils. “Partial nudity,” they warn in their write-up.

Autumn skunk, Scooby-Doo, and catharsis

This week has been chock full of brisk days and chilly nights. I’ve gotten soft, my friends from the Midwest tell me. They’re already getting frozen precipitation. I’m not sure if they mean snow or hail; I’m afraid to ask. But I’ve started piling on the sweaters and pulling the covers up around my neck.

Hobkin’s loving it. With the house this cold, he’s gotten downright frisky, prone to tearing around doing “skunk laps” with his tail straight up behind him. Occasionally he stops to stomp whatever happens to get in his way–me, Matthew, the couch–before galloping off again. Absolutely adorable. He’s also picked up a few new tricks. He’s discovered how to pry the speaker covers (that cloth mesh stuff) off the big speakers in the living-room and how to sneak into the fish tank cabinet. The former problem we have temporarily resolved by tying the speakers with string. I suspect we will need to move them out of his reach. As for the latter, we need to move the fish tank+cabinet closer to the wall so he can’t squeeze in behind it, which is where he’s getting access. I keep expecting him to figure out how to open the refrigerator next, a talent that skunks are renown for.

We rented and watched Scooby-Doo last night. Surprisingly, it didn’t suck. Again, I probably would have felt less generous about the film if I’d seen it at the theater, but I guess I had lower expectations for this one, ’cause I actually enjoyed it. A pleasant surprise. And SMG continues to be a cutie.

Managed to crank out 1500 words on my catharsis story. My DC2K writers group decided at our chat to push the deadline back to the 21st on the Halloween story. So maybe after I finish the catharsis one, I can get back on track. However, 1500 more words is more than I had expected the other story needing. And it’s not done yet. I’ve written everything except the very apex of the climax so I know exactly how it’s going to go. I can almost taste finished story. But it’s at 7500 words.

I really didn’t think this concept merited 7500 words. Part of it, I console myself, is that the story is very heavy with dialogue, which bumps the word-count. But perhaps I got a bit self-indulgent in the graphically violent scenes. I definitely need to go in and see if I can’t do some chopping. But I think I’ll finish it first.

On a slight tangent, I got an email from a person I’d never met before who has been lurking at my journal and website. She has shared interests–a pet skunk, sci-fi, writing/reading–and is sad that I’ve gone friends only ’cause she doesn’t have an LJ and isn’t planning on starting one. But she also understands why I did it, and sympathizes. She just wanted to drop me a note of support and best wishes.

Sigh. I like meeting new people this way, dammit. It’s not fair that I have to put up with abuse if I want a public blog.

May all stalker’s have their eyeballs spontaneously combust and their hands rot off with gangrene. Actually, let’s just broaden the scope of my little curse there to “all assholes” and have done with it.

Caffeine = muse food

Okay, my brief foray into going caffeine-free has ended, dismally and with little fanfare.

After three steaming cups of Java last night:
4000 words on my “catharsis” story.
200 words–kicking and screaming and spitting in my face, on the Halloween story.

Woof.

I’m a better writer as a caffeine addict. Or, at least, a more prolific one. Sigh.

On an up note, I am within 1000 words of finishing a story (not, mind you, the one I have a deadline for), something I have been unable to do in more weeks than I’m comfortable speculating upon.