Thursday, June 06, 2002
Chapter Eight is moving along well. I did 1,015 wds. today, which got me out of the homicide detective's office in which I'd been mired, and into the dreaded hospital room.
And I apologize for the entries all being so very short of late. I'll try to do something about that. I've just not had much word-energy left over for the journal, the novel is taking so much of my attention, even when I'm not actively writing it.
There's a nice little write up on In the Garden of Poisonous Flowers in the new issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, written by Charles de Lint. Kind words are always appreciated. And if you haven't already ordered a copy of the fine little book, illustrated by the incomparable Dame Darcy, what the hell's wrong with you? You want to see my 13-year-old cat starve to death? You want this to be the very last Dancy Flammarion story anyone ever gets to read? You want me to end this paragraph and fuck off to bed?! Well, so do I.
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