That's a long, long time, from where I'm sitting.
Yesterday was a good writing day. I did 1,845 words on "A Birth in the Wood of Self-Murderers" and finished the second section of the story. Today, I have to find THE END of the whole piece. It's looking like it'll come to a respectable 5,000 words, total. And for those of you who've been missing the profoundly weird and twisted "smut" of the early years of Sirenia Digest, this piece may make you smile. So to speak.
Ebay and Etsy! Please bid and buy, respectively. Thank you. Plus, there are those bonus Alabaster buttons.
Last night we finished Season Seven of Californication. Rarely has an initially brilliant television series plummeted to such abyssal depths as did Californication in it's last two or three years. Seasons One through Three are truly brilliant, and Season Four is good. After that, the series descends into surreal chaos, that, in this last season, became what seemed an unscripted travesty. Truly, truly awful. And sad to see something so good turn so bad. There was a story to tell, and it was essentially told by the end of Season Three. But the series just kept going...and going...going. Presumably, the ratings were high enough and enough money was being made to keep it going, and any concerns about quality were jettisoned. All fine writers know that when you've had your say, you get off the fucking stage.
We also saw the first episode of Season Four of Boardwalk Empire, a series that continues to stung me, with it's writing, direction, acting, costuming, set design, art direction, makeup, and cinematography. When I can look a show and find brilliance in pretty much every visible aspect of it's production, I'm impressed.
And I gotta write...