And because there was no sleep until after seventy-thirty ayem, there was no writing today. Which puts me about 505 hours behind.
It's a blustery, warmish, rainy autumn day here. This is like late October–early December in Alabama. Which is to say, I far prefer it to normal weather in Rhode Island this time of year. There are low black clouds. A breeze blowing the orange and brown leaves. I stood outside, and it felt clean and good. I wanted to go to the sea, but it would have been cold there.
Yesterday, though I'd feared I'd not be able to, I began the third chapter of Cherry Bomb. Turns out, it isn't titled "Pickman's Madonna," like the story sort of thing I just finished for Sirenia Digest #93. Though, that will be the title of the fourth chapter. Turns out there's other stuff that happens first. So, the second chapter is "Quarrel With the Moon." I wrote a respectable 1,033 words. So far, I've written 23,301; that leaves "only" 46,699 words to go. If I can get my shit together, I can have that done by mid-December, only five months late. Editors love me.
Lying awake, I found the true beginning of The Dinosaurs of Mars (a freeze-died hadrosaur carcass is involved), which I'm going to – I've decided – try to begin writing while I'm finishing Cherry Bomb. This is a thing I have never done before, work on two books at once. But I need to be writing the former. It's something I need to start now. I'm going to get with Bob Eggleton ASAP so we can work out the format, and try to write something on it in the next ten days or so.
By the way, Jack Smight's Damnation Alley (1977) has to be one of the absolute worst science-fiction films of the 1970s. I mean, the slimy stuff at the bottom of the barrel. Before last night, I'd not scene it since sometime in the eighties. Last night, I couldn't sleep, so I watched garbage.
But most of last night went into a massive Guild Wars 2 binge. Six and a half hours. I leveled my Norn ranger from 68 to 72, and worked my way through the last of Gendarran Fields, all of Caledon Forest, and all of the Bower. Oh, and we watched an episode of No Reservations. I've decided it's completely acceptable to view Anthony Bourdain as a sex symbol.