greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,
greygirlbeast
greygirlbeast

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the secret novel

Last night, I actually managed to sleep eight hours. It's been a couple of weeks, at least, since I've gotten that much sleep all at once. I feel like a glutton. A sweaty glutton, though, because we just did our morning walk, and it's hot and steamy out there. I don't care if you don't care. Hemingway said to talk about the weather.

Yesterday, I learned that I had two showings on the 2005 Locus reader's poll. Murder of Angels made "Best Fantasy Novel" at #20 and "Riding the White Bull" made the "Best Novelette" category at #30. I'm surprised and pleased with both, even if I personally consider "Riding the White Bull" a short story and not a novelette. MoA and "Riding the White Bull" also both landed on the Locus 2004 recommended reading list. Drad.

A couple of people were confused by the announcement regarding the False Starts chapbook. Sorry. Here's the deal: if you've ordered the limited edition (state) of Frog Toes and Tentacles, you'll be getting the False Starts chapbook and the "Narcissa in the waves" broadside (with a poem from Caroline Snow's diary; the artwork is by Ryan Obermeyer and was used as endsheets in the sold-out subpress edition of Low Red Moon). You get both. And there's still more chapbook news. Those who pony up for the hardbound, limited edition of Subterranean magazine #2 will receive The Merewife, the unfinished prologue to a Beowulf-related fantasy novel that I began writing in the summer of 1993, but set aside that October to write Silk. No one but me and Jennifer have ever read these pages. I've been holding them back for many years. It has always been my "secret novel," and it's a project that I'd love to return to someday. Anyway, yes, order the limited hardbound edition of Subterranean magazine, and you'll also get The Merewife (which will include an essay by me explaining the whole why-I-started-but-didn't-finish-this thing).

Today I have to get back to work. I've been in a bit of a funk the last two or three days, and I've not accomplished much of anything. "Noah's Raven" sort of stalled out, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the strange weather. Spooky's says it's a New England summer. Thank you, global warming. Anyway, today we go back to reading through Daughter of Hounds. Work, work, work. Work or die. Work or starve. Work or be publically exposed as a layabout. I have way the frell too much to not be doing something. These are the perils of being one's own boss. Me: "Er, I don't feel like working. Maybe it's a bad idea to write when I don't feel like writing. It might not be inspired." (*whimper* *whine* *mope*) Me: "Well, okay, but just this once." That ways lies bankruptcy and worse problems than trying to think of a four-syllable synonym for "anteater."

Meanwhile, have I mentioned my conversion to the First United Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster?



Even Michelangelo knew!


I'm serious. We must all join together and raise our voices as one, insisting that anywhere Xtian "intelligent design" (*snicker*) is being taught alongside real science...uh, I mean the implausible secular humanist "theory" of evolution, then Flying Spaghetti Monsterism must be taught as well. Yaweh gets his day, then so does the damn Flying Spaghetti Monster. Fair is frelling fair. Just because I worship two meatballs and a great pile of airborne pasta doesn't give you the right to force some Xtian dogma down my child's throat. Well, my "theoretical" child. Just because I don't actually have a child is no reason to exclude me from the American pastime of screwing up public science education in the name of organized superstition! What are you? A communist?
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