greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,

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"And now the wheels of Heaven stop."

Currently, here in Woodstock it's 28˚F, but feels like 18˚F. The sun is warm through the windows. A lot of snow melted yesterday, despite the clouds. I can only hope we see more melt today, despite the intense cold. We had more wind last night, but the power stayed on. If I had Spooky drive me to Rhinecliff, I could board the train to Manhattan, ride to Penn Station, then board the Crescent Line to Birmingham. I'd fall asleep somewhere in Virginia, and I awaken in Atlanta, to warmth and green. There's no green here, except the conifer needles we've had all winter long. Were money no issue and if there weren't so much work, that's exactly what I'd fucking do.

One of the strangest experiences for me, as an author, is finding a negative review of my work that I completely agree with. It happens, from time to time. Sometimes, it even makes me smile. Sometimes, they make me laugh. Like this review of Cherry Bomb that Kathryn came across this morning (in all fairness, the cover art is worse by far than the novel):

This was the last of a three book deal, an experiment which the author feels failed.* With this book, I have to agree. It is disjointed, the lead character's personality seems to have changed, and not for the better. The plot is not the clearest, and at times, is hard to follow. As I read it, I felt like my favorite author was writing with the attitude of "I have better things to do." It seemed like she just wanted to get it done, meet the terms of the contract, and be done with it.

The roof of the woodshed is now clear of snow. There's only moss and lichen and brown pine needles. Spooky tosses birdseed up there, and right now there are juncos and chickadees.

Yesterday, Spooky took Hubero out on his leash (he's been getting at least one walk a day, the past few weeks). He heard a hawk, freaked out, and insisted they go back inside, right then and there.

I had a good writing day yesterday. A very good one. I did 1,931 words on "The Aubergine Alphabet," letters T, U, and V. Both U and V got a little out of hand, each wanting to become actual stories. They were possessed of inconvenient ambition. Which is why the word count was so high. Today, I intend to finish "The Aubergine Alphabet," with W, X, Y, and Z.

Aunt Beast

* As indicated in my author's note at the end of Cherry Bomb.
Tags: birds, cherry bomb, cold spring, contracts, cover art, disappointment, failure, hawks, hubero, quinn, reviews, spooky, the aubergine alphabet, trains, travel

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