Wednesday, September 18, 2002
No news yet from my agent today.
I haven't been keeping up the Farscape updates in here. Everything's been going up in Nebari.Net, because I'm trying (with little success) to get my head out of the campaign and back into my own little fantasies. Anyway, that's the place to check for Farscape updates. This space must be kept clear so I can begin to fret endlessly about the fate of Low Red Moon. Of course, I'm uncertain if it's quite the proper thing to do, public fretting. This is all new territory. Authors have always endured this part of the process alone, or only with the reluctant company of friends, family, and other wretched authors. It feels exceedingly strange, this real-time anxiety I'm sharing with you.
I'm still wearing my pathetic broken glasses. I suppose, at some point, I'll see to their repair.
Sooooo . . . let's see. Writing. Embrace the Mutation (Subterranean Press, 2001). A book of 13 short stories based on the surreal, horrific photomanipulations of J. K. Potter. I wasn't asked to write for the actual anthology (these things happen), but I have been asked to do a short story to be published as a separate chapbook and included with the forthcoming deluxe edition of the limited. I guess that sort of makes me like the Tootsie-Roll center, then, doesn't it? Anyway, the limited edition, as opposed to the deluxe limited, included 10 additional photographs for which stories had not been written. Bill Schafer asked me to choose from one of those. I did. The story will be the third in a literary triptych which I began with "A Redress for Andromeda" (October Dreams, Cemetery Dance Pub. and Roc) and "Nor the Demons Down Under the Sea" (Children of Cthulhu, Del Rey), about a strange old house at the edge of the Pacific Ocean and the secrets beneath it. That's where I am this morning. Trying to get the new story to begin taking shape behind my eyes (that I have a headache does not help; that I'm fretting about Penguin and Farscape does not help either). I don't even have a title yet. I may go to Wordsworth for one. I should go to the library, but I probably won't. Probably, I'll sit here in my office and fret.
It rained this morning. Last night I finished re-reading Lovecraft's "Herbert West — Reanimator" for the umpteenth time.
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