Sunday, December 29, 2002
I don't think that I've ever done an entry this early. It's 9:05 a.m. at the moment; I'm not sure what time it'll be when I post it. I woke up from an unpleasant sort of dream of werewolvery and didn't want to go back to sleep.
Last night, Jennifer and I proofed the TFoC preface again, in light of the discovery of the September 1990 notebook and made a few changes and additions. I'm going to work on it a little more this morning, before e-mailing it to Bill Schafer. Thanks to Poppy, Jim, Byron, and Spooky for helping me along with this thing the last couple of weeks. I despise writing autobiography (that's a lie, of course, as all writers love to talk about themselves above all else — but it's a lie I have a duty to perpetuate). It'll be good to get back to something fictional, to Murder of Angels, back to Niki and Daria. That's going to be very, very strange. Writing those girls again. They're different now, of course, older and relocated to the western edge of the continent, but it'll still be strange.
My books are having a stellar morning on Amazon.com. Silk's sales ranking is currently at 9, 941 and Threshold's is at 3, 758, which may be the highest ranking I've ever seen on one of my books. I figure people are spending those Xmas gift certificates. At least they're spending them wisely. Should you like to join them, the Silk page is here and the Threshold page is here.
When I was finally too tired to work anymore (either real work or unpacking), I collapsed in front of TCM, waiting for Kathryn to call me from wherever it was on the road she'd be stopping for the night. I was trying to watch a Montgomery Clift movie I'd never seen, something called Lonelyhearts. I've said before, if I'd written Threshold and Low Red Moon in the '50s, I'd see Deacon Silvey as Montgomery Clift. However, having written them in the '90s and this first odd decade of the 21st century, I see Deacon as Edward Norton. Anyway, I kept dozing off and finally Kathryn called from some horrid motel near the North Carolina state line. She'd left Providence yesterday morning, it had taken her an hour to find a room, and she was exhausted. When we rang off, I went back to trying to watch Lonelyhearts, but finally fell asleep. I awoke about 3:15 a.m. to Manhattan. I was starving and spent about ten minutes looking for something edible. The best I could do was unsalted sunflower seeds. I ate sunflower seeds and watched Woody Allen until about four, when I finally dragged myself away to bed.
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