Saturday, December 13, 2003
Yesterday, I wrote 1,028 words on what is no longer an untitled novella, but is now a novella titled "The Dry Salvages," after T.S. Eliot's poem of the same name. The total word count stands at about 12,000, so, if I only miss four days (all for holiday crap) between now and the end of the month, I ought to finish this story sometime around January 4th. In which case, I'll only be a little more than a month behind. December was to have been my catching up month, ha ha.
And, to make matters no easier, today's one of those days when everything I did the day before reads like dren.
Ah, also yesterday, my editor at Penguin sent me a new, muchly-improved version of the cover copy for Murder of Angels, which I tweaked a bit and sent back to him. This time, I can confidently say that the copy is accurate and in no way misleading or obscenely hyperbolic. After writing all day, I was good for nothing but a night of questionable movies. First, Daredevil, which I sort of halfway enjoyed and think it's a shame it wasn't just a little bit better. And what's with knocking off Electra like that? Next, we watched Leeches, a perfectly awful (no, if was imperfectly awful) horror flick (it's okay to call a film this bad a "flick"). A college campus crammed with unbearable, steroid-scarfing jocks and their tralk girlfriends is terrorized by giant, man-eating leeches. That the leeches are all obviously rubber models on strings doesn't seem to make them any less lethal. It's the sort of movie where every single character, without exception, is so entirely loathsome that the only possibly joy the film might convey would be to watch them die horribly. But Leeches is soooooo bad, even their inevitable deaths are dull and unrewarding. I think this might have made a halfway decent ten-minute Saturday Night Live skit, maybe.
I hope to get some work done on Nebari.Net tonight. I still have to get up the new Nar'eth pages from Leh'agvoi and, as of yesterday, new artwork from Mella.
But, mostly, I have to find the whatever-it-takes to write today. For the next four or five hours, nothing else matters.
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