Sunday, January 05, 2003
Almost the entire day was "wasted" in upgrading software on the Mac, getting things all spiffy and shiny and 2003. Now the iBook goes like stink, as they say. But I didn't get any writing done. I thumbed through Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber and L. Frank Baum's The Patchwork Girl of Oz, while I waited for this or that to finish installing. But really not much to report. That's going to change this week. This week words will be written and we will begin that monotonous reporting of word counts that drove me headlong through Low Red Moon this past spring and summer. I am swearing my friends to oaths of guilt; they will be bound by honour to make me feel like a turd if I don't get my 1,000 words a day done. There will be naught but bread and water. No new action figures or other sundry geek toys until the words start rolling in on a regular basis. Big fucking guns time. No more letting myself off easy. Work or die.
I've been looking for motivation and inspiration in music. Theatre of Tragedy's Musique (2000) and Mor Syphilitica's Primrose (1998), for instance. The latter's playing right now. I have to find the sound of this new novel. That's always a critical first step. I have to hear the story. It sounds goofy, but it's as true as anything else I can say about my writing. Anyway, I wasn't very taken with Musique; I much preffered TOT's black metal on Aegis than their pop electronica. Primrose, on the other hand, holds great promise, as regards Murder of Angels.
Tonight, Thryn and I watched Reign of Fire, which I still think is a kick-ass monster movie.
Thanks to everyone who has taken a moment to send me their thoughts on gay characters, Silk, and the new novel; the encouragement is, as always, greatly appreciated.
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