Monday, October 28, 2002
Last night, the grey decided to turn wet. So today is wet and grey. I lay watching Hammer's The Evil of Frankenstein, listening to the rain, dozed off, and awoke an hour or so later to Whale's Frankenstein. There was a nice sort of continuity there. And it occurred to me, at about 4 a.m., that those who study Mary Shelley's novel might be fixating on the wrong transgression. It's not that Victor (or Henry or whatever he gets called in whichever movie) creates life, it's that he ressurrects the dead, which would seem, at least to me, a far greater incursion on the realm of God. After all, any man and woman can "create" life. That's easy. Making a man or a woman is nothing. But bringing them back from the grave, that's another matter.
You have to think about something at four in the morning when there's only the sound of the rain and a television for company.
Today I work on Low Red Moon. "Green Bottle" will have to wait, as I need to get the novel ms. off to my agents and publisher ASAP and there's really not more than a few hours editing left before it's ready to go. I just have to forget that I'd rather be writing short stories and contemplating absinthe, and make myself finish the frelling editing.
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