So, even though there is absolutely no time for being sick, I'm sick. Hard to tell yet just how sick, but sick enough. It started off yesterday morning as a scratchy throat. Thing is, Spooky's been sick for almost a week, and every time I'd ask her about it, she'd tell me it was just allergies caused by the dust we're stirring up packing. To me, she looked sick, not allergic, but hey, she ought to know. So I didn't worry about catching it. But now I'm sick. Last night, fevers and chills. We have to hope this fucker is short lived, because here it is May 6th, and we leave Atlanta on Thursday, May 29th for Providence. And there is all the packing, and a mountain of work, and deadlines and scheduling that simply can not be Put Off Until Later. I used up all my sick time, back in February. And, possibly the worst problem here is that colds and flu often (since the mid '80s) leave me with a severe cough that can last, literally, for months. After I had the flu in February, I coughed an additional six weeks. And the bad tooth cannot be pulled if I'm coughing, because then it won't heal properly. So. Yeah. It's sort of a disaster.

Yesterday. We spent eight hours (1-9 pm) working on the corrections to A is for Alien, and we're still not done. So, that will be today. We also need to take books back to the Emory University library, but that may have to wait until tomorrow. Today, I get more misplaced or missing commas, fact checking, clumsy word repetitions, and other assorted tedium. Oh, and a good example of why sf writers should worry only just so much about the science in their sf stories. When I wrote "Zero Summer" in the summer of 2005, Saturn was believed to have 43 moons, but now, revising the story in 2007, I know that Saturn has more than 60 confirmed natural satellites. But the story is set in the nearish future. By then, we may know that Saturn has 80 moons. Do I stick with 60, knowing that astronomers consider that number provisional? Do I "guesstimate" ahead? Do I revise the story again in a few years? Frankly, the facts are hardly relevant to the truths of the story, so screw it.

My thanks to robyn_ma for pointing out that I can now actually see Isabella Rossellini's "bug porn" (Green Porno) at the Sundance Channel website. Yesterday, the site wasn't letting me in; today it is. Oh, and yes, I have downloaded the new, free NIN, and I'm listening to it now.

At some point yesterday, I left Spooky alone to work on the corrections to A is for Alien. I lay down on the sofa, thinking I could at least read the next chapter of Chris Beard's book on primate origins, but, instead, the best I could manage was an hour of being half asleep, dreaming though I was partly still awake. Later, late last night, Spooky read me more from House of Leaves, the terrible scene on the staircase, Navidson trapped alone at the bottom when it suddenly grows to impossible proportions, Tex's story of the sinking of the Atrocity. Not the perfect thing before bed, so then she read me Robert McCloskey's Time of Wonder (1957), which won a Caldecott Medal and is one of my all time favourite children's books. "Where do hummingbirds go in a hurricane?" Beautiful.

I got the following from Alan S. Montroso, via email, "...As was your story "Concerning Attrition and Severance"; its imagery and majesty have haunted me through the weekend. I understand why you felt it belonged in the obscurity of a closed drawer, but I am also grateful such a cruel creature has been unleashed." Thank you, Alan. It's good to see these reactions, because the story's out there now, and there's no pulling it back in. Comments on Sirenia Digest #29 are still welcome, by the way.

I haven't given the list of books in print in a while, so here it is again. And, though it might be cheaper and the "green" thing to do, buying used copies of my novels from Amazon, sadly, in no way helps my sales figures. Sadder still, I have to actually think about shit like sales figures:

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

And here's the Amazon wish list, because, after all, this has been declared my Royal Birthday Month and -04 is a mere 20 days away.

There's a lot more of substance I wanted to write about this morning, but I feel like unto butt, and somehow I have to make it through the remainder of the corrections to A is for Alien.

Yes, I am disappointed by the results of the Pennsylvania primary. I don't think that either Clinton or Obama have much of a chance of winning the presidency, and I'm not one of those who sees Obama as some sort of panacea for the ills of this country, but, still. I've been trying to hope.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,125 words on a new piece for Sirenia Digest #30. It has no title, and I'm really not sure, yet, how to describe it.

While I'm thinking of it, here's that list again, those of my books in print, the ones that need to sell, the editions that need to sell (new, not used copies), etc.:

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

Not much else to say for yesterday. I read a bit of Justine by the Marquis DeSade before I started writing. Last night, I watched two episodes of Deadliest Catch (despite the Bon Jovi theme song), a series I have a peculiar fondness for. My thing about the sea, I suppose. Hauling things up from the sea. The bleak beauty of the Bering Strait.

I think I need intravenous Red Bull this morning... (and it's not even really morning now, as of seventeen minutes ago).

I'm predicting a short journal entry. Let's see if I know of what I speak...

Yesterday, I began and finished the second section of Chapter One of The Red Tree. A total of 1,346 words, so a very good writing day. At least, as regards the number of words written. Already, I am struggling with doubts. Somehow, the text does not seem as solid, as dense, as detailed, as authentic as it needs to feel. This may all be in my mind, I do not know. I see now that this chapter will likely have four sections. I'll begin the third this afternoon.

And yesterday I had two readers tell me that they find endnotes more distracting than footnotes. So, there you go. I've had readers, in the past, extoll* the horrors of footnotes, that they are distracting, destroy the flow of text, and (gasp) feel pretentious (it's all pretentious, kiddos, as it's all pretend, it's all pretense). So, now I'm not sure what I'll do. I guess I'll figure it out when I reach the end of Chapter One. Also, I have considered inserting the Caitlín R. Kiernan construct as "the editor" of Sarah Crowe's journal, which means that I would be writing the prologue, afterword, and foot/endnotes as "me."

I sat out in the sun a bit yesterday, when all the writing was done, just loving the warmth, dozing, soaking up a little Vitamin D. The sun so rarely touches my skin.

Some reader questions now. First eldritch00 writes, "Question about the new Penguin paperback reissues: were all of those novels revised? I remember that Threshold was." Here's how it works: Silk was extensively revised for the mass-market paperback Threshold was revised, but not as much as was Silk. Both Low Red Moon and Murder of Angels received minor edits (more in the former than the latter). Daughter of Hounds will receive almost no revision at all (in part, this is because it doesn't need it, and, in part, because I don't have time).

eldritch00 also asked about the Table of Contents for A is for Alien, and I reply it will probably look something like this (the order of the stories is likely to change):

“Riding the White Bull”
“Zero Summer”
“A Season of Broken Dolls”
“Faces in Revolving Souls”
“The Pearl Diver”
“In View of Nothing”
“Ode to Katan Amano”
“Bradbury Weather”

And, remember, a FREE e-edition of The Dry Salvages will be released by Subterranean Press to coincide with the release of A is for Alien. Also, this from MySpace reader Kate La Trobe:

I always read your blog with interest - have done for years, from London, Holland, the States...wherever I am... and your books of course. You're an incredible inspiration. My favourite is Low Red Moon which I read over many coffees in Amsterdam...am now reading and very much enjoying my recently-acquired Murder of Angels. In Montana! Isn't it great that your work is everywhere?! I always find your books, wherever I am. Usually in shops, and if not, I ask them about your titles and get them to order it in. And there's always Amazon if the worst comes to the worst. Thanks for being fabulously talented. You're enjoyed worldwide.

See? This is what does not make the "Baby Jesus" cry. Yes! I can find your books.

More Millennium last night. Episodes Three and Four. Many more pages of House of Leaves And that was yesterday. Tonight, we get Byron and new Doctor Who and another new Battlestar Galactica. And no, this wasn't a short entry...

* extoll may, indeed, be spelled with two L's, and, to me, extol looks like the name of a neotenic tiger salamander or Aztec god.

First, an apology, of sorts, to the people who read this journal via MySpace. A few days back, MySpace mysteriously jettisoned the login cookie that prevents me having to remember my password and which email account I use for MySpace, and because I do actually rather hate MySpace, it was this morning before I could be bothered to try and remember what was what.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,267 words on Chapter One of The Red Tree. And I think that I have decided that there will not be footnotes, because too many people complain that footnotes break up the flow of the text. Instead, there will be endnotes for each chapter, which are really the same thing as footnotes, only they come at the end of the chapter instead at the foot of each page. Yesterday, I completed the first section of the chapter, and today I will begin the second.

It's that time again, time to point you to the places where you can easily acquire copies of all of my novels, and one of the short-story collections, so that no one has to utter those dreaded words, "I can't find your books." (shudder)

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

Not a bad day yesterday. I was done with the writing by 4:30 p.m. or so, and it was one of those perfect spring days outside. All those shades of fresh green bursting forth against the blue sky, and the sun so white and dazzling. I left the house for the second day in a row. We walked to Videodrome to return Enchanted (which I still name grotesquely charming). Then we got Thai for dinner, and then we watched the first two episodes of Millennium (now that we're done with Angel). Though I truly loved the second season, I missed most of the first. I think Millennium might have been Chris Carter at his creepiest, and I'm just glad it didn't show up on television until more than two years after I'd written my first Deacon Silvey story.

I passed much of the remainder of the evening in Second Life, rping with the Omegas in Toxian City. Really, it was all too complex and wacky and peculiar to try and recount, though Nareth's victorious battle against the sentient interstellar fungi that had infected her thrall's brain was quite invigorating. Later, Spooky read me more of House of Leaves. "Which is exactly when Karen screams." Such a sublime line. Oh, there was a very brief "absence" seizure following dinner, but I think I'm actually getting used to those little ones. So yes, a fine yesterday.

Slowly retrieving some of that lost sleep from last week. A full eight hours last night. I'm feeling much, much better, thank you. Sleep deprivation is one of the worst things for me just now, and I've made a new resolution to be in bed by two ayem every night. I may not be asleep, but at least I'll be in bed.

Today, with luck, I will begin writing The Red Tree. I now have four and a half months to write the novel, and I'll easily lose two weeks of that to the move. Yesterday, I finished Michael E. Bell's Food for the Dead: On the Trail of New England's Vampires (2001), a really excellent book treating the folklore of the tuberculosis-related cases of "vampirism" from Rhode Island, Connecticut, Massachusetts, etc. I first encountered the book at the Peace Dale Public Library (one of the most beautiful libraries in South County) in August 2006, while doing research there, and I scarfed a used copy of the book somewhere or another, but it's taken me this long to get around to reading it.

Yesterday, I also read "Ichnotaxonomy* of bird-like footprints: an example from the Late Triassic-Early Jurassic of Northwest Argentina" in the latest Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology. After dinner (Spanish rice with chicken, pintos with jalapeños, fresh avocados and tomato), I did a nice bit of rp with Lorne, Brit, Nicholette, and Artemisia (er...Spooky) in the library in Toxian City. Then Spooky and I watched Danny Boyle's Sunshine for the fourth time. Later still, I organized the hard-drive on my old iBook (Victoria Regina) while she read me a couple more chapters of House of Leaves (this will be our third time through). That was yesterday, pretty much.

Most of the stress during the last couple of weeks has derived from our trying to find a place to live in Providence, a living space suited to our particular needs and my particular aesthetic. We thought we'd found something good in Elmwood, but it turned out not to be so good after all. Don't even get me started on the three front doors. But yesterday, Spooky's mother looked at an apartment near the Armory District, which we think is going to be the place. It's perfect. So, the stress level has lessened considerably. Now, I just have to contemplate the nightmare of packing and making the actual move. We'll likely leave Atlanta sometime between mid and late May, so, not much time left at all.

I've not left the house since we got back from the Colin Meloy show on Thursday night, mostly because the weather turned cold after the thunderstorms on Friday. The warm-up is coming slower than predicted. It's been a chilly spring. I don't think we've had a single day in the '80s (Fahrenheit) yet. Right now, it's 48F, but feels like 42F with the wind chill.

My thanks to David Kirkpatrick (corucia) for the following photo (behind the cut), taken in a local (for him) Barnes and Noble in Minneapolis. I've always been annoyed at authors who measure their success by how many inches their books take up on the shelves of a bookshop, but, after most of these novels went out of print two years ago, seeing them back, seeing that I presently have five novels and a novelization on the shelves (and that they appear to be in the "science fiction and fantasy" section, not "horror"), is somewhat reassuring, I must admit.

( Shelfage )

Oh, and I have this comment from reverendcrofoot, regarding the age of the narrator in The Red Tree: "See, the thing with age is unless the author says it directly it's really hard to tell. I would have never guessed Dancy's age if you hadn't told me...Make her whatever age you want, but just don't tell us how old she is...avoid it. It would be interesting to see the ages people guess."

It would be interesting, perhaps, but I am far too visual and specific in my writing to allow the age of a central character (or most minor ones) to go unstated. How Sarah Crowe will face the trials of the novel, who she is, and so forth, all that stems from the sum of her life experiences, which can be measured, in part, by her age. A twenty-year-old woman would very likely not cope with these experiences the same way that a forty-four-year-old woman would, and much of what concerns me as an author is how a character acts or reacts (truthfully, I would argue action and reaction are synonyms) in any given situation. That was one of the joys of writing "Salammbô Redux (2007)" for the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder, having the opportunity to go back and look at a character I first wrote as a preteen, now in her forties. So, interesting idea, but it would never work for me.

Oh, and I think today is the last day to vote in the 2008 Locus Poll & Survey. Many of my short stories are eligible, and Daughter of Hounds made the drop-down menu in the "Best Fantasy Novel" category.

Okay. Time for the juice of the bean.

* An ichnotaxon is a taxon — a family, genus, or species — based solely on evidence derived from fossil footprints (or other traces, such as the burrows left by marine animals). When I lived in Birmingham, back when I was still doing paleontology, I was often aided by Andy Rindsberg, a friend and inchologist, Curator of the paleontological collections of the Alabama State Geological Survey.

Sir Arthur C. Clarke has died. From 2001: A Space Odyssey to Childhood's End, a notable influence on my own writing, on themes addressed in my own sf, and a remarkable human being.

---

We made it all the way through the proofreading of "Pickman's Other Model" yesterday (44 ms. pp.; for Sirenia Digest #28). But between my cough and Spooky aching ear, we did not get to "The Ape's Wife" or begin reading the A is for Alien ms. That'll be today.

And, again, here are the links for my books, those presently in print, the most recent editions, the ones I have to worry about sales figures for:

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

---

There resides in our freezer the remains of a Peep that we began either experimenting upon or torturing (take your pick) way back in either 2003 or 2004. It's been subjected to microwaves and repeated freezing and thawing, over four or five years now. Amazingly, you can still see its "eyes." It stands as my salute to Corporate Xtian Holidays Stolen From Pagan Sources©. And as proof of the durability of certain supposed foodstuffs. There are two photos (warning — nasty) behind the cut, which Spooky took day before yesterday:

( not food )

---

Ostara is upon us again. If she's up to it, Spooky and I will observe the sabbat Friday night.

And there's really not much else to be said for now. It's grey and dreary out, not quite cold, not quite warm, and I'm wishing I were anywhere but here; okay, well, not anywhere....

I've just gotten word that Steve Jones is taking "The Ape's Wife" for The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror (#19). This will mark my ninth appearance in The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror since 1998. And I love this particular story so much, I'm very glad to see it make the cut.

And, in case you've not already figured it out, no, the tornado did not suck us away to Oz last night. But we did lose power for a while. Most of the damage was downtown and to the west, south and east of us. We got a terrific thunderstorm, with hail. Even as I type this, a new line of storms is bearing down on the city, but hopefully nothing like what came through last night.

Not much to report about yesterday, except that my hair is all red again. And my editor is as baffled as I as to why you cannot yet order the new edition of Murder of Angels from Amazon.com, and she's looking into it (but, hey, that's why we have Barnes & Noble). Oh, and last night we watched Alison Chernick's documentary, Matthew Barney: No Restraint (2006), about the making of Barney's Drawing Restraint 9 (2005). Fortunately, one of the iBooks had enough juice to play a DVD, so we did not perish of boredom.

On Thursday, well, tons of the busyness of writing, including an interview for the Fearzone website. The uncorrected draft of "Pickman's Other Model" was sent to Vince to illustrate for Sirenia Digest #28. I think the rest was too dull to bear mentioning, no matter how much of it there was.

And if you're an SL steampunk, do not forget that Monday is Air Kraken Day. Don't worry. I'll take pictures.

Okay, well, Spooky says I need a bath, and she's willing to help, so shut up, Herr Platypus, it'll all still be here waiting for me afterwards...

Here are the links to the latest editions of all my books, the ones I need to sell so that there will be future books:

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

A very good writing day yesterday. I did 1,477 words on "Pickman's Other Model," finishing the fourth section of the story and also the fifth. Which means I should be able to get the "first draft" done before my eyebrow appointment at 4:45 p.m. Spooky and Sonya (sovay) have been reading this one as I go, and they both like it. My only misgiving is that I think I'll have written a story in eight days that actually needed about fourteen. The layers and details, the artifice of nonexistent documents and films, a hundred things I'd really like to go back and explore a bit more. I have begun to recognize an odd similarity between this story and "Houses Under the Sea," but I don't know if anyone else will see it. Anyway, it'll be appearing in Sirenia Digest #28 later this month.

Last night we found a dosage of dextromethorphan that appears to keep this cough in check, but it's interacting with my other meds to produce a very curious, floaty sort of high. Not unpleasant, mind you, and at this point, just about anything is better than the blasted cough. But I wound up sitting here at my desk late last night, also sitting on a sofa there in the library in Toxia...just sitting. No rp, because the library was pretty much deserted by then, except for me. I sat here listening to Poe and the new NIN, watching Nareth on that sofa, and Spooky finally came in about 3 ayem (she'd been reading in the bedroom), to see what the hell I was doing. I muttered something lame about leveling up. But, truthfully, I was just sitting here, watching my avatar sitting there, tripping on the pharmacological cocktail in my blood and brain. Then, however, I didn't get to sleep until almost four, I woke up at 10:30 ayem, and now I'm feeling pretty zombiefied.

Once again, the correct links to the new paperback editions of my novels (those now in print):

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

After the writing, I did a little Second Life. The "Sirenia Players" group now has eight members, and a ninth who has not yet accepted her invitation. So, it's coming along. Last night, Spooky made chili, and then we watched two more eps of Angel, Season Four ("Apocalypse Nowish" and "Habeas Corpses"). The show has certainly veered into grimmer territory, and that's a good thing.

I've not left the house in two days, but the weather is warm again. Hopefully, we'll get a good walk this evening. Oh, and if you're waiting on an email from me, I've gotten just a little behind, but should get caught up today.

I woke about 7:30 this morning to the commotion of the most wonderful thunderstorm, rain coming down in great roaring sheets, lightning. I fell asleep again listening to the storm, but have no recollection of whatever dreams followed.

Yesterday afternoon, still without an idea for another vignette for Sirenia Digest #27, I got in touch with Sonya (sovay) and asked her to please toss a couple of ideas my way. The first few, I could see straight away, were doomed to become actual short stories, but then she gave me one word, "Snegurochka." Marvelous! Unfortunately, then I had the call from my agent regarding Joey Lafaye, and Spooky and I needed to proofread "The Steam Dancer (1896)" for Subterranean: Tales of Dark Fantasy, and there was eBay to be done...so, at the end of the day, I still had not begun a second vignette.

Though I'm not making the final decision until tomorrow, I think that Sirenia Digest #27 may be comprised of the one new vignette, plus two reprints from early issues. We have so many new readers this month, that will help to give them a more balanced idea of what to expect from the Digest. Of course, I also might miraculously produce a second vignette today, in which case, #27 would be two vignettes and a couple of reprints. Hopefully, everyone will be cool with whichever way this goes. This month has been a disaster, but it was being sick the last two weeks that really screwed things up good and proper. At any rate, expect #27 on Thursday or Friday.

We had a good walk yesterday afternoon, about a mile there and back again. We walked to Videodrome and rented Olivier Dahan's La Vie en Rose (aka, La Môme), and now I see that it really is a beautiful, brilliant film. Marion Cotillard's performance is sublime, and the makeup artists were, indeed, deserving of that Oscar.

Please have a look at the current eBay auctions, which include a copy of the Japanese edition of the Beowulf novelization. Thanks. And because Amazon, with their "bargain books" boondoggle, is still making it rather difficult to find some of the new editions of my novels, the ones I will be judged by the sales of, here are the links again:

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Right, platypus. First coffee, then email...

There were plans for yesterday, a long road trip and "field work" for Joey Lafaye, but the weather turned shitty, and it's still shitty today. There was rain yesterday and last night, something that has become almost mythical here in Atlanta. A cold, stinging rain, and if it did that for a couple of months, it might save us from the Great Water Riot of 2008. Or not. Oh, and I was up way the hell too late on Friday night, until something like 4:30 ayem, and that also messed with my plans for yesterday. No rain today, just cold and grey.

Instead, I stayed in and began proofreading the galleys for Tails of Tales of Pain and Wonder. Spooky and I spent a couple of hours writing out a sort of prospectus for "The Crimson Alphabet," parts one and two. We have a least one word for each letter at this point. Several people said they wanted to see me do "The Crimson Alphabet," and no one said they didn't, so I interpreted that as a vote of confidence. Oh, and I managed to combine three boxes of paperbacks (Silk, Low Red Moon, and Beowulf) into only two boxes. They'll go to storage in Birmingham now. I washed my hair. That was the work I did yesterday instead of the work that I should have been doing yesterday. Oh, and I got a $10.56 royalty check, for "Bela's Plot" in Love in Vein II. Over the years, only a tiny handful of the 100+ short stories I've sold have actually earned royalties, and "Bela's Plot" is one of them.

Last night, we had dinner with Byron at the Vortex, then came back here and watched Badder Santa, which I must confess I loved. Quite a lot of films lately, and I can't recall if I've mentioned them all. Friday night, Spooky and I saw Daywatch (Dnevnoy dozor, 2006), which was beautiful and superbly dreamlike, but which didn't make much more sense to me from a narrative standpoint than did it's predecessor, Nightwatch (Nochnoy dozor, 2004). I think it's something about fundamental conventions of Russian filmmaking and/or storytelling that I fail to grasp. Which is to say, the problem is probably with me, not the films.

The latest round of eBay auctions continue, and please note that the auction for Letter X of Tales from the Woeful Platypus (complete with hand-sewn paisley platypus) ends tomorrow. I think Spooky's going to be listing a couple of new things today.

I learned on Friday that, in light of my recent health problems, my editor at NAL — Anne Sowards — has agreed to extend my due date on Joey Lafaye to June. Which is a huge relief.

Here we are, approaching the long cold death before the year is reborn, and so I must remind you of Cephalopodmas, which falls on December 22nd.

One last thing: Clarkesworld is doing a "favorite story of the year" poll, and if you happened to really love "The Ape's Wife," please take a moment to tick that particular box and let it be known. Thank you.

A mightily peculiar and disconcerting dream this ayem. If you can imagine The Last King of Scotland crossed with The War of the Worlds, you'll have a pretty good idea.

So, yeah. Yesterday. Not so bad as Wednesday, though, really, mostly spent recovering from Wednesday. I have a new policy. I will no longer even check my email until after the day's writing has been done. So, if you send me an email in the morning, or late at night, you likely will not get a reply until the afternoon or evening. Or a week later. Too many days recently have been ruined by email that has derailed me. I can't allow that to continue, not with these deadlines.

Yesterday, I spent two and half hours finishing the signature sheets for the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder (now available for pre-order). Also note that there are still a few copies of Tales from the Woeful Platypus available from Subterranean Press.

After the signing was done, I had a bath, and then read "Reflections" by Angela Carter. I've been working my way through Fireworks: Nine Profane Pieces (1974), trying to keep my head in the writing space. Monday, I read "The Executioner's Beautiful Daughter" and "Elegy for a Freelance." I suspect my favourite story in Fireworks will always be "Master."

Also, I should remind you of the new Stiff Kitten T-shirts available from Ziraxia. Just the way Mort would have wanted it.

Last night, Spooky got dinner from the deli at Whole Foods, and I watched something horrid on TV about the building of tractor-trailer trucks, and we had a walk in Freedom Park. Lots of bats, low storm clouds underlit by the lights of downtown and by the sunset. Later still, I spent a few hours in the Dune sim. And that was yesterday. And tonight we get Byron, which makes the whole damn day easier to think about.

The truth is, the only reason I'm making a blog entry today is that I'll be pissed at myself later on if I skip three days in a row. I'm not making an entry because I have good news about progress on a story or novel. Because, truthfully, nothing worth mentioning has been written this week. I could lie and say that it has, and no one would ever be the wiser, but I find that I haven't the spirit at the moment for lies.

Here it is Thursday. It's been a week since I finished "The Madam of the Narrow Houses," and, near as I can tell, my plan for October is bust. Get the two pieces for Sirenia Digest #23 written and at least the prologue for Joey Lafaye. Now, I feel like I'll be lucky to manage the Digest.

The idea for an sf story I was blathering on about in Monday's entry was a stillbirth. And nothing suitable has come along to take its place.

But, let's rejoice, nonetheless, because scarletboi and Spooky have come up with a design for a Stiff Kitten T-shirt, which you may now order from Ziraxia. It's actually pretty snazzy, and you can wear it while reading the 4th edition of Silk. By the way, Amazon lies. There are not 14 "used" copies of the 4th edition of Silk available, because the damned thing hasn't even been printed yet. Nice T-shirt, though.

Let's see. Interesting. Well, we saw Russell Mulcahy's Resident Evil: Extinction on Tuesday. This is not, by any stretch of anyone's feeble imagination, a good movie. But it's only 95 minutes long, and in this instance, that's a big plus. What's really important, though, is that it's not a dull movie — like, oh, Underworld: Evolution or Aeon Flux or The Hills Have Eyes 2. The scene with the zombie crows was even quite nicely handled, I think. And Resident Evil: Extinction gave me exactly what I paid to see: Milla Jovovich blowing the heads off zombies whilst scantily clad. It is, in fact, possibly the best film ever made in which Milla Jovovich blows the heads off zombies whilst scantily clad. As long as those are our sole criteria, I give it two thumbs up. So, even though I swore after the abomination that was Highlander II I'd never see another film by Russell Mulcahy, there you go. The incarnation of the goddess known as Milla Jovovich goes a long way towards redeeming even the crappiest zombie film.

And, besides, it was too far to drive to see Andrew Dominik's The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, because it only seems to be showing on one screen in Atlanta.

Oh, I almost forgot. I got word yesterday that Fangoria reviewed Dark Delicacies 2 and was particularly pleased with my contribution to the anthology, "The Ammonite Violin (Murder Ballad No. 4)" (originally published in Sirenia Digest #11). I'm going to assume this is not the same idiot who reviewed Murder of Angels for Fangoria back in 2004. Anyway, I haven't actually seen the review, and I probably won't, but I think that it's in the November issue, if anyone's interested.

Okay. That's enough for now. What fresh hell awaits...

Well, no prologue was begun yesterday, though I now know much more about where Joey Lafaye is coming and where it's going. I know it "begins" in the late 19th Century, and may not be set in the 1970s after all. I also didn't begin a new vignette for Sirenia Digest yesterday, but I hope to today. Turns out, I need to do some further research before writing the novel's prologue, including at least a cursory, skimming sort of reading of Carole G. Silver's Strange and Secret Peoples: Fairies and Victorian Consciousness (Oxford University; 1998). If Murder of Angels, Daughter of Hounds, and now Beowulf were not sufficient, hopefully this novel will finally convince people I am not a "horror writer." Which, of course, is not why I'm writing it, though it would be a pleasant sort of side-effect of having written it.

Elsewise, yesterday was rather frustrating, as all writing days when nothing actually gets written are. But it ended with Spooky making a big pot of chili, and then Byron dropping by and the three of us watching Ghostbusters (1984), which is still a marvelously funny movie, even if the effects are looking a little dated. Never mind the wardrobes.

Oh, you may now pre-order the new paperback edition of Silk via Amazon.com. This edition was, you'll recall, substantially edited/rewritten from the original text. You can even snag it with Daughter of Hounds for a mere $19.89

The lastest round of eBay auctions ends later today.

Thanks for all the comments yesterday, all you who commented. But now I have coffee and must wake up and make the words...the other words.

Apparently, it seemed like a good idea to make up for having slept eight and a half hours night before last by only sleeping a little over six hours last night. Because I am one smart cookie. Huzzah.

So, yeah. I'm not awake.

Thanks to everyone who has reported Beowulf sightings since yesterday. I've gotten word of the book in Michigan, North Carolina, Atlanta, upstate New York, and Brooklyn. And apparently it's been on at least some bookshop shelves since Sunday. Go figure. I guess I'll see a copy when the stars are right or something.

I did 1,186 words on "Salammbô Redux" yesterday. It's a very strange process, expanding this story. Once or twice before, I've "finished" a story only to discover later on it wasn't finished. "Emptiness Spoke Eloquent" comes to mind (originally it was titled "Mina"). But, in those rare cases, I was merely adding to the ending, extending the story. With "Salammbô Redux," I'm expanding from points within the story, and having to do so in such a way that augments the original narrative, rather than disrupting or destroying it. And if you have not yet pre-ordered your copy of the 3rd edition of Tales of Pain and Wonder, today would be a good time to do so.

Also, there's the Threshold auction (2nd edition).

Besides work yesterday, well, Spooky made a pot of chili, and we had a very nice walk through Freedom Park after dark. The moon, only one night from full, was again huge and so marvelously bright. I love moonshadows. Later was mostly Second Life, which was somewhat cooler than usual, which is saying a lot, considering it's only the Best. Toy Ever.

Oh, and I have two sets of contracts from Penguin to sign and get back in the mail today. One is the contract for the new edition of Silk, to be released in December. The other is for Joey Lafaye and the next novel after that (of course, the contract calls them BOOK I: UNTITLED BOOK #1 and BOOK II: UNTITLED BOOK #2). I hate reading contracts, but these need to go back into the mail today. Wait. I said that already.

Okay, the platypus says I can have coffee if I'll end this entry here, and there's no denying that platypus known my weak spots.

It seems impossible that six years have now elapsed...

Yesterday, we proofed "Angels You Can See Through," "Lafayette," and "...Between the Gargoyle Trees," so we almost finished the Tales of Pain and Wonder read-through. And I made a decision regarding the "Table of Contents" — the new edition will include "Mercury," which did not appear in the first and second editions (as it wasn't written until late 2003). It will not, however, include "Angels You Can See Through." Reading back over the piece yesterday, I have to admit I found it clumsy and insubstantial. I had already decided to include "Mercury" in this edition, a week or two back, and it is a far better story than "Angels You Can See Through." Today, we proof "Mercury," and then I begin the actually editing, which I hope to have completed by tomorrow evening or Thursday evening at the latest.

There was also a phone call from my lit agent, as we're having some trouble with the wording of my new Penguin contract. And I'm getting gentle nudges from producer D. It is time I remember how to be a "workaholic" once more. I went too easy on myself in August, and now I am dreadfully behind.

Much to my amazement, there is actually one page in the new Tales of Pain and Wonder typescript with no red marks — p. 396, in "Lafayette." I think there's an average of twenty or thirty corrections per page. And at 471 pages...well, you do the math. This falls into the category of work that was definitely not in my best interest, financially, but this collection has been published twice before, and neither time was I happy with the outcome; this time, I am determined that I will be.

Beowulf will be out very soon, and, in the meantime, there's Daughter of Hounds, Threshold, and Low Red Moon, as well as Tales from the Woeful Platypus. The new editions of Silk and Murder of Angels will be along in December and April, respectively. And if you can't find these books at Borders or Barnes and Noble, there's always Amazon, which has everything, in or out of print. Oh, and of course there's also Sirenia Digest, in case, by some odd chance, you have not yet subscribed.

Last night, we walked at sunset, made a big pot of chili, and very late I watched Carol Reed's adaptation of Graham Greene's The Third Man (1949) on TCM, with Joseph Cotton, Orson Welles, and Alida Valli. I adore this film, but I will admit the zither drives me nuts. Oh, and I found time to make another entry to Professor Nishi's journal. All in all, a fine and busy day.

"Shut up and get to work," says the platypus, and who am I to ever argue...