greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,

"People they laugh when they hear you're from my town."

Buildings are empty like ghettos or ghost-towns.
It gives me a chill to think what was inside.
I can't seem to fathom the dark of my history.
I invented my own...
~ Neko Case

Rainy here. Rainy yesterday. It's only 72˚F, but it feels like 69˚F. I made the mistake of leaving the House yesterday; I won't make it again today.

There hasn't been much writing. Precious little progress on "The Cats of River Street (1925)." I thought – or I hoped – that I was beyond this dithering. I was clearly wrong.

I know that I've written about the decline in productivity I've experienced since 2012. I must have written about it in detail at some point. I can't find the cause. I thought it was the meds, so I went off them, and everything went to fuck. I'm back on them, and it's still all I can do to produce anything. There's no describing this frustration and panic. I'm not writing. Or I'm writing so little I might as well not be writing. Sooner or later, unless things change, there will be a financial crisis. I cannot solve this problem if I cannot locate the cause.

I sold "Far From Any Shore" to S.T. Joshi for Black Wings V. He'll be writing the afterword for Houses Under the Sea: Mythos Tales.

From Facebook, yesterday:

Any joy I might have felt at finally seeing one of my novels translated into French is entirely negated at the disappointment of seeing the shoddy excuse for a French edition of The Drowning Girl (La Fille qui se noie). A cheaply produced tpb printed on highly acidic rag paper that's already begun to degrade, with a cover that looks like it was hammered out in thirty minutes. It's the sort of thing I'd expect from an American POD. I have been impressed with the Turkish and Brazilian editions, and I'm in love with the Spanish edition, but France dropped the ball. If given a chance, I also never would have approved that translation of the title.


I should be at the San Diego ComicCon today. Instead, I'm here in Rhode Island, hating the weather and hating my goddamn treacherous body that made going to San Diego impossible. I do not, however, miss the vile crowd.


For those who have asked, yes I am staunchly anti-war. I am not, however, a pacifist. That's only a contradiction if you don't think about it.

And, back on the 24th:

More and more I see that I am a creature of the 20th century, and, truly, of the mid 20th century. I'll never adapt to this strange plastic and pixel world. I accept that, even though, increasingly, the cultural landscape baffles, angers, and frightens me.

Time to make the doughnuts.

Aunt Beast
Tags: "far from any shore", "the cats of river street (1925)", cons, facebook, fear, foreign editions, futureshock, green autumn, houses under the sea, joshi, luddism, my damned feet, neko case, not writing, rain, the drowning girl, war

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