Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Yesterday is a mucky sort of smudge, hidden somewhere behind a night of inordinately peculiar dreams. What did I do? "Alabaster," that's what I did. Well, that's not all that I did. I also had to put together a list of potential reviewers for Murder of Angels and get it to my publicist at Penguin. Many thanks to Bill Schafer for help in that regard. I e-mailed "Waycross" to Steve Jones (for The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror #15) a second time, because .mac screwed it up up the first time. I wrote a letter to accompany the corrected galleys of Murder of Angels (which Spooky packed up and got to the p.o. mere moments before closing, because she's entirely frelling drad). There was some business with my NYC agent concerning the purchase of copies of Low Red Moon and Threshold (to have on hand for European editors interested in foreign translation rights) that had to be attended to. And other things too varied and minor to mention.
But mostly there was "Alabaster." This is shaping up to be an odd writing experience. This story began last March as a 1,000-word vignette, when Camelot Books asked me to do something for their "chapette" series. Then, a year later, this April, it formed the opening scene for my screenplay, "Alabaster" (presently neglected as I try to catch up on all these other things). Now I'm endeavoring to make a full-fledged, self-contained short story of the poor thing. Oh, and it turns out that there wasn't a copy of the ms. on my machine or on Spooky's. It was the only important casuality of the last time Hinderance (my iBook) burped. All I had was a hardcopy. So, Spooky dictated, and I typed it back in. Then I spent most of the afternoon fleshing out the first few pages, taking some material from the screenplay and converting it into prose form (this is a very Neil way to write, I think). Today, more revision, and tomorrow, more fleshing out of screenplay into prose. This Dancy story's going to feel a little different from the others. It's darker, I think, and Dancy's a lot less happy about having her strings yanked by angels. But the weirdest thing about this story so far is that I've been writing it to Buddy Holly and Roy Orbison. It's doing something marvelously unnerving to the mood of the piece. This one's directed by David Lynch, definitely. "Waycross" was directed by Neil Jordan. "In the Garden of Poisonous Flowers" was directed by Alex Proyas.
What do I say next? I'd pay a dollar to get a peek at the script for my life, just for the next fifteen or twenty minutes. A whole dollar.
Spooky has immersed herself deeply in the details of comparative shopping, as she tries to get the best digital camera for the best price before our long trip to New England in June. Me, I'd just go to CompUSA or Wolf and buy a damn camera and be done with it, which is why she's handling this and I'm not.
Last night, I wrote a short bit on the anatomy of the Nebari female reproductive system and genitalia, because my not having previously divulged this information was holding up Leh'agvoi's Nar'eth manga. I think that I can say it was quite possibly the strangest thing I've written in ages, if not ever. I believe I have invented the science of xenovaginoplasty. Anyway, because I am a beast minus shame, I thought I might as well share it with all of you:
Nebari reproductive physiology, and the anatomy of their genitalia, is quite entirely distinct from that of Sebaccoids. Nebari are ovoviviparous, which is to say that the developing embryo, held inside a spherical, leathery egg, is nourished entirely by the yolk of the egg. There is no umbilicus. A few days after fertilization, the egg descends from the vagina, after migrating from the oviduct along the inner wall of the vagina,??and is held inside a thick subclitoral membrane for two months, until it has grown to the point where the membrane ruptures. At this point, the egg is tended outside the mother's body.
Nebari women never produce more than a single egg at once (there are no twins), and egg production is very low. Very few Nebari women become pregnant more than twice in their lives.
How do I begin to describe the female genitalia? Look at an orchid and you'll start to get a good idea. The clitoris is greatly enlarged, to the point that it's many cultures long believed all Nebari to be male, and the species to be hermaphroditic. This fingerlike projection is referred to as the THADA. It's tip is slightly bifurated, for insertion into a deep fold on the dorsal surface of the male's hemipenis, known as the VRIS. So, in Nebari, both species achieve penetration. The thada not only prevents the male from withdrawing prior to ejaculation, it stimulates very sensative tissue located within the vris and is instrumental in bringing the male to orgasm. Between the two short prongs on the end of the THADA, is a hollow "fang" known as the SLAN'HYRA. During intercourse, the female injects a small amount of a mild neurotoxin via the slan'hyra, which insures the male with whom she has just mated will not mate again for almost a cycle. In modern Nebari society, the venom gland is usually removed shortly after hatching, though the slan'hyra itself is left intact. It is not unusual for males to be pricked several times during intercourse by the slan'hyra.
The thada is generally about 2.5" long. The labia majora are very wide and, when aroused, turn a very vivid blue. The labia minora, located beneath and behind the vagina, is also quite large, but does not change colour during arousal, remaining the same dark grey-blue that characterizes the female pubic region (once VEDDA is complete). The external margins of the labia are marked by??low "ruffles,"not unlike the crenulated edges of some orchid petals. These are known as TRESPARS and become erect when the female is aroused, drawing more attention to her genitalia.
Needless to say, Chapter Seven's going to be steamy, and most likely rated NC-17. I wish I had as much fun writing my novels and short stories as I have writing pseudo-slash fic/alien porn. Perhaps, with the next sf novella I do for Subterranean Press, I'll combine the two.
And, just for robyn ma, who seems worried lately about the amount of ennui in my life, let me just say Squee!!! as regards the imminent release of The Chronicles of Riddick. If I were up to such things, and he had nothing better to do and weren't almost certainly gay, I'd have Vin Diesel's bald-headed little baby in a heart beat. Wait. That felt so good I think that I shall do it again. Squee!!!
Gotta run now. I'm out of black micro-glitter and Sanrio stickers...
11:27 AM
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