There's more snow on the way, though at least they're calling for fewer inches today than they were yesterday. We may be nearing the beginning of the melt here in the Catskills, which means ice on the roads and flooding. Currently, it's 9˚F, with no windchill whatsoever. That's an improvement, right? The sun is shining in a muddy blue-white sky.
Yesterday, I wrote F, G, and H for "The Aubergine Alphabet" (1,372 words). I mean to have Part One done by Monday morning. For now, the screenplay is on hold, just for a few days.
Yesterday morning, in a burst of low-brow comedic shenanigans that would have been right at home in a Three Stooges film, while trying to change the 5-gallon bottle on the water cooler, I whacked myself in the jaw – hard – and then Spooky squished her right thumb. We is smart, is we. It's not like we haven't changed the damn thing half a dozen times before. Also, my new favorite band name is Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs. I don't suppose it much matters that I've completely failed here to craft a proper paragraph, as most people today wouldn't know a proper paragraph from an echidna's dick.
It was good night last night. We played Scrabble, and Spooky absolutely kicked my ass, winning by 60 points. We started reading Ghost Story again and made it through the prologue. I don't know how many times I've read this book since I first read it in 1981, but it still amazes me. Anyway, we also watched the convergence of Mars, Venus, and a slender rind of the moon. We immortalized it with this crappy photo (Hint: the smallest point of light is Mars):
Photograph Copyright © 2015 by Kathryn A. Pollnac
Later, we watched an episode of The West Wing before bed. Scrabble, reading aloud, stargazing, and The West Wing; lo, we are become nerdy old ladies.
When we got back to Providence, my box of contributor's copies of Cherry Bomb were waiting for me ("laying in wait" would be more accurate). And now it's done, that whole fiasco. I apologize. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I ought to have written Blood Oranges and been done with it, but when someone waves a three-book contract under my nose, I tend to sign now and think later. I'm not embarrassed by Blood Oranges. It's a silly little romp and a much needed "fuck you" to a bunch of hacks. But the second and third books? Yeah, well, anyway. It won't happen again. I set a copy of Cherry Bomb on the shelf with the other two Quinn books. I didn't even crack the cover. I doubt I ever will.
And there's still this: "Humble Subterranean Press Bundle." Now, you guys know how I feel about ebooks. You may or may not also know that I am a fervent defender of DRM. However, freelancers often cannot afford to have the courage of their convictions; I need the money. So, if you want $96 worth of ebooks from SubPress for a minimum of $12.37 ("pay what you want"), including my World Fantasy Award-winning The Ape's Wife and Other Stories, there you go. Do not ask me questions about platforms and shit, because I don't know the answers. All that stuff is at the website at the other end of that link.