Wednesday, September 17, 2003
I just don't seem to be able to wake up this morning.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,524 words on Chapter Nine and, I think, I will be finishing it today after all. Good for me. Yesterday did not start out well, though. I read back over the pages I'd written on Monday and it all looked like garbage and I did lots and lots of rewriting. Only then did I proceed to the next scene (the next to last scene of the chapter), but it makes the going more difficult, that sour taste at the back of my mind that always lingers after I discover that something which looked good on one day looks like dren the next. It was almost 6:30 p.m. when I finished for the day. Assuming that I really do finish Chapter Nine today, tomorrow will be spent reading back over chapters Seven, Eight, and Nine, prefatory to beginning Chapter Ten on Friday. And it looks like there won't be an eleventh chapter after all, which is good, because this book needs the symmetry of ten chapters.
I had to pause in the middle of writing yesterday, because my film agent at UTA called and I was mopey and the whole thing devolved into a weird sort of pep talk.
Let's see. Miscellania. Thanks to Aimee and Sandrah for e-mailing to ask me not to give up writing for beadwork, and to Teri, for the beautiful umbrella. Thanks to Meghan for blaming me for her newfound Farscape addiction, and to Franklin for the flattery. Sounds like as Oscar speech, doesn't it? Quick, quick, quick! The orchestra is playing. Also, Subterranean Press is having a half-price sale, and one of the books on the sale list is In the Garden of Poisonous Flowers. So if you haven't bought it (you sluggard), do so now, or if you have, (you discerning thing, you) grab a copy to give a friend for Halloween, which is coming up faster than I'd like to admit.
Last night, I read "Sandkings" by George R. R. Martin. I'm trying to cajole myself into reading more. It's an odd and shameful thing, a writer who spends more time flossing her teeth than reading. Tonight, I'll read "A Song for Lya" by Martin. And I need to get back to A Winter's Tale, and I have Dan Simmons' Ilium and Poppy's The Value of X to get to, after that. I'm probably one of the five sentient beings on earth who haven't read a single Harry Potter book. When the aliens come, the ones who have encoded all those Harry Potter books with subliminal messages to render all earthlings drooling idiots at the assigned time, on the assigned day, only we five shall stand against them. Ah, to hezmana with that. The aliens can have this place. Maybe they'd at least do a more efficient job of frelling it up than we have. So, forget everything I just said. Yo, aliens! Right down here. Easy pickings!
I wish I were on the Outer Banks right now, waiting for Isabel. She may have dropped to a Category 2, but she still has the Gulf Stream to cross, that little boost before landfall. From space, she is more beautiful than any words I have.
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