greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,

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the yellow house

If you haven't yet subscribed to Sirenia Digest, just click here. It's quick, easy, and cheap...just like me. Last night, I was supposed to get the text for issue one together for thingunderthest, but I was so tired after writing all day that I did little more than drool at it for fifteen or twenty minutes. I'll get to it tomorrow, I suspect. I need to write a little intro thingy about the discarded Chapter Three of Daughter of Hounds, just a few words on The Book That Might Have Been and how this is a glimpse at an unrealized fiction and all that. So, yes, please subscribe today. You'll be thrilled. You'll wallow in elation. You'll wonder how you survived this long without it. You may even have less cavities.

I did 1,315 words on Chapter Ten of Daughter of Hounds yesterday, and now it seems not unreasonable to believe that I'll be done with the novel's first draft by Sunday evening. That has me just a little freaked out. I'm not sure if it's that I'm not quite ready to leave these characters, or if it's something else. I've written most of this novel during one of the very, very worst years of my life, writing it through so much chaos and depression that I'm amazed I was able to write anything. But here it is, a testament to my unwillingness to stop telling stories, even when the world about me seems damned and determined to drive me to distraction and beyond. In another year, a better, saner year, there might have been great joy in the writing of this novel. In 2005, there could only be perseverance, a dogged refusal to stop writing, no matter what. But we do what we can when we have to do it. So, DoH will be my rough triumph over 2005. Screw you, year. I wrote the frelling book anyway.

Yesterday, somewhere in the labyrinthine folds of the blogosphere, I came across someone who was going on about being partway through Silk, and they complained it was depressing and didn't seem to be leading anywhere and also seemed to promote the notion that everyone who's not a goth is uncool, or some silliness of that sort. For a moment, I wanted to stick a fork in my eye. Well, that was my first reaction, and then I thought, hey, it's out of print. Eventually, people will stop reading it. More importantly, they'll stop misreading it, and the other books will have a better chance. You can't read Threshold and complain about all the damned goths, 'cause there's only one. With Silk out of the way, I thought, maybe people will begin to think of Threshold as my first novel, and never mind if that's not true, and never mind if I'm being unfair to Silk because there are people who wouldn't understand what I was trying to say in that book even if I sat them down and explained it page by page using pretty pictures and only very small words. And then I thought, what a horrid thing for me to do, wishing oblivion upon a book that won me so much praise and a couple of awards, that jump-started my career, that I worked on for something like two and a half years, a book that once meant everything in the world to me — just because I'm tired of hearing the same hollow criticisms again and again and again. When we write books, we take upon ourselves the responsibility of listening to people say stupid things about them. That's how it goes, and I was being a jerk and a coward, wishing Silk away because, after seven years, I'm just really sick of hearing it. So. Buck up, nixar. Grow a goddamn spine. Use the fork instead.

Okay. Enough bellyaching. I'll show you something cool, instead. Yesterday, Spooky drew my attention to the type description of a new Mesozoic marine croc, Dakosaurus andiniensis. It's an amazing beast, thirteen feet long, from the Jurassic/Cretaceous boundary of Argentina. I even have pictures (behind the cut, for the suchophobic):

I'll probably write more about it once I've had time to read the paper, but wow. What a magnificent creature. I wonder which day of the week young-Earth creationists would have us believe it was created (or "intelligently designed") on?

I took that "To which race of Middle Earth do you belong?" quiz last night. To no one's surprise, I got Elvish. Spooky got Entish. At least we're compatible. There's not much else to be said for last night. I found out that Gravenhurst will be playing Atlanta next week, and I mourned the me that would have dragged herself out of the house to see the show, but cannot now be bothered. The same me who won't be seeing Bauhaus at the Tabernacle because people annoy me too much and I refuse to pay such high ticket prices, blah, blah, blah.

Anyway, it's time to make the doughnuts. But please, if you expressed an interest in the erotic vignette subscription whatsit, subscribe today. Thanks!

P.S. — Still no updates to Blogger. I've e-mailed them, they've e-mailed me. I'm e-mailing them again today. I have no idea.
Tags: doh, paleo, silk

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