We are approaching the end of the proposal/pitch/revise/repeat process of Secret Project B, and my agent has ordered me back to work on Daughter of Hounds. I don't even want to count how many days have passed now since I last worked on the novel...
A few days back (maybe it was Monday, I don't remember), Spooky and I went for a walk, earlier in the day than usual, because the weather was cool. And we came upon this great flowering bush/small tree thing of a species I cannot name, tiny white trumpet-shaped (buccinal) flowers. It was swarming with bumble bees. I must have counted at least twenty. And then I noticed there were honey bees, too, and yellow jackets, and a hornet, and a red wasp. The tree was alive with stinging insects. And perched high up near the top was a single Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus). The world seemed to narrow down to that bush, a peculiarly magical moment, as though we'd stumbled across a fairie congress or some such, the grand council of wings and barbs.
There will be a definite nonlinearity to this entry. It can't be helped.
Yesterday, Spooky and I stopped off at Whole Foods because I needed coffee, and when we got back to the car, I realized that we'd parked next to Hollis Gillespie's royal-blue PT Cruiser. There was even a great big "Bleachy-Haired Honky Bitch" bumpersticker plastered across the back. Thank goodness Spooky was there. I would have waited for Hollis (whom I've never met) to come back, just so I could ask her if her parents really made her sell cupcakes door to door when she was a kid, and it would have ended up in Creative Loafing as this weird story of one Atlanta author stalking another Atlanta author.
Great quote from Neil's blog yesterday: Always good to remember when you're making art. You don't have to like it, just be ready to do the next thing.. Absofrellinglutely.
Maybe I'll make another post this afternoon. Maybe it won't be so scatterbrained (but don't count on it). Meanwhile, we have auctions ending this very afternoon, and, as I've said, presently the eBay income is of especial import, so please take a gander. The Dry Salvages. And, hey, that copy of The Worm in My Mind's Eye is one of only a handful I have to auction.