Tuesday, November 26, 2002
Four days to go.
The sky is gray today. Gray with patches of blue like something the sky is trying to remember. I think there's rain coming soon. It's chilly but not genuinely cold.
Yesterday I packed the display cases, which is always the hardest, most tedious part of my moves. Now that it's over I can breathe a little easier. Except for worrying that something will be damaged in transit, of course. I drank Sobe Adrenaline, listened to VNV Nation (Futureperfect), Moby (18) and Attrition (The Jeopardy Maze) while I wrapped jars with bats and lizards and baby sharks in formalin, wrapping them in newspaper and tissue. Dinosaur teeth and claws, dolphin bones, a lynx skull, Crocodylus niloticus and Alligator mississippiensis, fossil ferns and starfish, a rhinoceras beetle from Thailand — my little menagerie, gathered over the years. Afterwards, I did some work for Derek on my vocal bits for the Our thoughts make spirals in their world CD. I have to finish that up tonight, as we're on a very, very tight schedule, getting the disc finished and to the factory and then back to Subterranean Press. When I was too tired to work any longer, I watched Ridley Scott's Gladiator and waited for Thryn to call me from Rhode Island (she'd gone out to a Rasputina show; she got me a t-shirt).
That was last night.
More packing today. Dribs and drabs of work. Maybe a trip to the downtown library.
The boxes are everywhere, stacked as tall as me.
I haven't forgotten about Farscape, by the way. It's still not a lost cause, however things may seem. After spending a whole month in September working with the campaign to save the show, I have had to give it less of my time (writing, editing, the move). But I'm still at it, working as a member of the Farscape Webmasters Association (FWA), administering the Beyond Hope Fund. Now we're all gearing up for the big push in December, before Sci-Fi airs the final eleven episodes of Season Four, beginning in January. On Christmas Eve, the SFC will air a Chain Reaction, rerunning the first eleven episodes of the season in sequence. It'll be your chance to catch up and hang around to help push ratings to the 2.0 that Sci-Fi wants to justify a fifth season. Anyway, I'll say much more about this later.
It's really past time that I begin thinking about the next new novel, the one that comes after Low Red Moon. At the moment it's titled Murder of Angels, but that might only be the working title; my contract with Penguin calls it Untitled. It's meant to close the fictional circle I opened with Silk, taking us back around to Daria and Niki a decade after the events in Silk. But it'll tie in, in some way, with Threshold and Low Red Moon as well, though I'm not precisely certain how yet. The plot is coming to me in crumbs, in flashes, in whispers. I think it may be a bit longer than my last three novels; it'll have a lot of ground to cover.
Anyway, I should go do some work and some packing. This morning, a new French publisher asked me to write an essay on a Stephen King novel (I chose Firestarter, because its always been one of my favorites).
|
|
