Wednesday, July 31, 2002
Basically, if all I ever had to do was finish books, life would be ever so much easier. It's the beginnings and middles (and especially the middles) that are such a pain. The endings, coming with the weight of so much paper piled up behind them and having gathered sufficient momentum, seem to take care of themselves. That magical thing I went looking for in those awful first pages. The closer it gets, the more clearly I can discern its character, its shape and mood. The ending of Low Red Moon is so close now that I can almost hear it, not so peculiar a comment as this ending has certain attendant sounds. There are no doubt still surprises in store for me, in the last two chapters, and perhaps even in the epilogue, but I know that the mystical threshold has been crossed and now the ending, some ending (and I care not which ending it comes to) is inevitable. At the start of a novel, nothing is inevitable, and particularly not endings. More amazing, this book has come to me with such comparative ease. It will be finished far more quickly than either Silk or Threshold, and, I think even a little more quickly than the feverish The Five of Cups. Yes, I am rambling, but being so near the end is a very fine place to be. I can cut myself some slack and not consider the necessity of future beginnings, and simply allow this story to conclude.
I'll pass the 400-page mark on the manuscript today and I can happily say it's the last centenary benchmark this novel will have.
Also, very soon now, I will reveal something about the plot of Low Red Moon, hopefully before the end of August. I'm amazed I've kept it a secret for almost eight months!
More news. At the end of the summer, around October 1, I shall be relocating to Providence, Rhode Island. It's a move that (like the ending of a troublesome novel), has been in the works for a couple of years. Eventually, I'll come back to Atlanta, but, in the meantime, I will take full advantage of all the wonderful spookiness of Lovecraft's town. This means, though, that if you'd like to see me at a signing or reading somewhere in the southeast, it's very probable that Dragon*Con (August 30-September 2, Atlanta) will be your last chance for at least a year and a half. I'll be there Friday through Monday. And now I only have to endure two more months of Birmingham!
Oh, also, I finally left the apartment again yesterday (someday, one of you should remind me to explain my geographically-triggered agoraphobia), took in a matinee and then went to the grocery store, where I was promptly and savagely attacked by an artichoke. No kidding. It drew blood. It's no wonder I stay in so much . . .
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