Much to my surprise, I began Chapter Nine of Daughter of Hounds yesterday. I'd thought I'd spend the day making corrections to Chapter Eight and notes for Chapter Nine. But suddenly the beginning of Chapter Nine was so clear to me. I sat down and wrote 1,038 words late in the afternoon. This novel is, in effect, a story withinin a story. That is, it has a frame. It's Emmie and Soldier's story, but beyond that narrative, it a story being told to changeling children and ghoul pups by Madam Mnemosyne in the warrens beneath College Hill in Providence. If you've read "The Dead and the Moonstruck," you'll know what I'm talking about. If not, you'll just have to wait and see. Some idiot/s will insist this is "experimental," forgetting or simply never having known that framing narratives is a device that's been employed by writers since at least forever. Screw them. It's the way I felt the story should be told, the way it came to me. Anyway, I think the little bits where the story stops and we see the storyteller and her audience will end being some of the best parts of the book. I wrote one of those scenes yesterday. Also, I reached ms. page 500, which always feels like a milestone.
This has been, easily, the worst summer I've endured since 1995, and, despite my dislike of winter, I can't say that I'm sorry to see it fading. Actually, the awfulness began well before the summer, but the summer seemed somehow to distill it, concentrating the difficulties. Most of them I've not spoken of here, and I shall not.
Last night, Spooky and I took a longish walk in the dark, saw a couple of bats, talked about New Orleans, saw some of the last fireflies of the season, and spoke with neighborhood cats. Back home, we watched Kar Wai Wong's amazing 2046 (2004), one of the most beautiful films I've seen in ages.
Thanks to the very evil
Time to make the doughnuts...and other stuff. And it's still not too late to bid on the limited edition hardback of Revelations which Christa's put on eBay. All proceeds from the auction go to Poppy. One hour to go, folks. Drive up the price. Bid, darn you.