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Tuesday, May 9th, 2006
And the winner is...
Tuesday, May 9th, 2006 01:22 pmRestless night, last night. I dreamed about being on a space station -- or possibly a large convention hotel masquerading as an interstellar liner, these things are mutable in dreams - which had been holed. Entire sections were sealed off, and I was one of a band of intrepid crazy people scurrying around the areas that had not yet lost pressure, gathering up air in Ziploc sandwich bags, so it could be taken back to those who had retreated to the core. [fe on]Gosh, wonder what that's about?[fe off] Anyhow, I shook myself awake half a dozen times, only to be soothed back to sleep by Mozart purring in my ear -- and right back into the same idiot dream. Gah.
With this as a preface, the day therefore started out a mite rustily. I did finally manage to get my act in gear to go out and collect SRM's taxes from the accountant, stopped at the gym, and cruised out to the post office, hoping for that promised check -- which, nope, still wasn't there -- and to mail off my proposed course outline. That's two items of almost-gainful employment now hopefully in line for Fall. My challenge is to find something a little closer in. Like, say, tomorrow.
Despite the disappointment at the post office, it was a pretty day for a ride -- bright and blue and breezy. Manymany smushed quill-bearers along the road, by which I deduce that the sap has risen and the March of the Porcupines has begun. Can the March of the Turtles be far behind?
The biggest Northern Harrier I've ever seen tried to carry Argent off of the Waterville-Winslow bridge. He missed, but only by a matter of a couple feet.
Oh -- and the winner referenced in the title to this post? That would be the driver of the sporty red drop-top, Maine license plate NOAH98, who passed not one, not two, but three cars doing the speed limit, with respectful distances kept between each, on a disintegrating country road -- against double lines, on a blind curve. Nice going, NOAH98. You're one lucky sumbitch, and I don't wanna be anywhere near you when your Fortunator chokes on a bad battery.
With this as a preface, the day therefore started out a mite rustily. I did finally manage to get my act in gear to go out and collect SRM's taxes from the accountant, stopped at the gym, and cruised out to the post office, hoping for that promised check -- which, nope, still wasn't there -- and to mail off my proposed course outline. That's two items of almost-gainful employment now hopefully in line for Fall. My challenge is to find something a little closer in. Like, say, tomorrow.
Despite the disappointment at the post office, it was a pretty day for a ride -- bright and blue and breezy. Manymany smushed quill-bearers along the road, by which I deduce that the sap has risen and the March of the Porcupines has begun. Can the March of the Turtles be far behind?
The biggest Northern Harrier I've ever seen tried to carry Argent off of the Waterville-Winslow bridge. He missed, but only by a matter of a couple feet.
Oh -- and the winner referenced in the title to this post? That would be the driver of the sporty red drop-top, Maine license plate NOAH98, who passed not one, not two, but three cars doing the speed limit, with respectful distances kept between each, on a disintegrating country road -- against double lines, on a blind curve. Nice going, NOAH98. You're one lucky sumbitch, and I don't wanna be anywhere near you when your Fortunator chokes on a bad battery.
Afternoon report
Tuesday, May 9th, 2006 08:00 pmThe afternoon went a little pear-shaped. Found myself staring at nothing for long-ish periods of time, getting distracted in the middle of sentences, and whatnot. Tomorrow's read of this evening's writing ought to be a hoot. Sigh.
I've had folks here and there ask me where the book now tentatively titled Carousel Tides (formerly The Book Without a Name)"fits in." I've answered those folks when asked, but I thought I'd make a general posting, for those thousands of readers around the world who have been dying to ask this question.
The truth of the matter is that Carousel Tides, um -- well, see...it doesn't "fit in" anywhere. It's not under contract. It's not a Liaden Universe(R) book; it's a contemporary fantasy/mystery. I'm writing it purely and simply because I Wanna. It's something a little like therapy, helping me to recover stamina and a liking for my own writing. The Crystal books -- Crystal Dragon in particular -- were Plenty Hard for us to write (which, by a definition recently floated in another part of the forest, ought to mean that they're Stellar Work) and are proving to be Plenty Hard to have written, as well.
That being the case, I wanted to ...think about something different, and work on a project that wasn't fraught on any level. Too, I wanted to stretch the long writing muscles, which had gotten cramped with the stress of trying to make sure every sentence was perfect before moving on to the next.
This book is a muddled mess. I don't think I've written quite so glorious a mess since the first draft of Scout's Progress -- another book written to satisfy authorial whim. And it's OK that it's a mess. There's no hurry; there's no one to disappoint if it doesn't come out within the year. I can let it sit and cool for months -- years, if I want to. And that's kind of -- liberating.
Progress on Carousel Tides
I've had folks here and there ask me where the book now tentatively titled Carousel Tides (formerly The Book Without a Name)"fits in." I've answered those folks when asked, but I thought I'd make a general posting, for those thousands of readers around the world who have been dying to ask this question.
The truth of the matter is that Carousel Tides, um -- well, see...it doesn't "fit in" anywhere. It's not under contract. It's not a Liaden Universe(R) book; it's a contemporary fantasy/mystery. I'm writing it purely and simply because I Wanna. It's something a little like therapy, helping me to recover stamina and a liking for my own writing. The Crystal books -- Crystal Dragon in particular -- were Plenty Hard for us to write (which, by a definition recently floated in another part of the forest, ought to mean that they're Stellar Work) and are proving to be Plenty Hard to have written, as well.
That being the case, I wanted to ...think about something different, and work on a project that wasn't fraught on any level. Too, I wanted to stretch the long writing muscles, which had gotten cramped with the stress of trying to make sure every sentence was perfect before moving on to the next.
This book is a muddled mess. I don't think I've written quite so glorious a mess since the first draft of Scout's Progress -- another book written to satisfy authorial whim. And it's OK that it's a mess. There's no hurry; there's no one to disappoint if it doesn't come out within the year. I can let it sit and cool for months -- years, if I want to. And that's kind of -- liberating.
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