Thursday, August 21, 2003
Yesterday I did 1,219 words on Chapter Seven of Murder of Angels, so I've pretty much made up for having only written about 225 words on Sunday. I can't yet see the light at the end of the tunnel, the bright nimbus that usually attends THE END, but I can at least begin to believe it might exist.
Yesterday was a strangely communicative day for me. I exchanged e-mail with Poppy and Neil, talked to Laura Anne Gilman (my editor at Penguin), and then Rogue called last night about nine o'clock and we talked for a bit. Any phone call with me that lasts longer than two or three minutes can be considered a marathon. It was good to hear from Rogue. The Crüxshadows are back from Europe and enjoying a short break in the tour before Dragon*Con. Anyway, it was just a little odd actually talking with so many people in one day. It's a rare day when I actually open the stoppered, sea-weary bottles that wash ashore here in Madagascar. Or New Zealand. Or wherever it is I've been stranded.
The Great Seven-Day Auction has begun in earnest. Click here to a) contribute to the cause, the cause being recovery from The Event of August 8th, The Great Crash, the day the lights went out at caitlin-r-kiernan.com, whatever the frell you want to call it, and b) get cool dren in exchange. It's mostly chapbooks, the harder to find stuff, including the out-of-print-on-publication Waycross. Check it out. Ignore that stuff about cat crutches. The cat can wait.
Last night we did a little more work on the website. All that's left to do, to get it back to where it was before August 8th, is getting up the two most recent photo pages, and I felt that was pretty low priority. I worked until midnight, then watched Humphrey Bogart and Mary Astor in Across the Pacific.
This novel and I, we may yet make our peace. I think it's beginning to trust me a little more, and I'm starting to understand where it wants to go.
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