I only did 924 words on Chapter 10 of Daughter of Hounds yesterday, but I'm fairly well convinced that they were the right words for the third quarter of Chapter Ten, and that's a lot better than having done 1,500 words about which you have grave doubts. I have it in my head that if I push rather hard today, I can finish the chapter. It will take lots of coffee and Red Bull and maybe a power nap halfway through the day, but I think I may be able to pull it off. Then all that will be left will be a very short epilogue and a few sections I have to backtrack and add to earlier chapters. And the revisions after I read through the whole manuscript. But still. If I can reach the end of Chapter Ten today, I'll be 99% finished with Daughter of Hounds. Maybe I'll get everything done this month that I need to get done. I am beginning to hope.
A supremely good Kid Night last night. At Videodrome, Spooky stumbled upon an unexpected and spectacular marvel — Andrew Leman and Sean Branney's splendid film adaptation of The Call of Cthulhu!
How could such a thing be and yet I had no awareness of its existence?! It won the Audience Award for Best of Show and the Jury Award for Best Short Film (it's 47 minutes) at the 2005 HP Lovecraft Film Festival. Imagine what might have been if Murnau had finished Nosferatu and then come to America and filmed The Call of Cthulhu, and maybe it's not quite that good, but it's close. The film is amazingly faithful to the short story. It's a joy, start to finish, and must be seen by all. Rarely do I gush about films based on Lovecraft's works, because, for one reason or another, they usually suck. Not this one. By shooting the story as a silent film and employing all manner of old-school movie tricks, Leman's solves many of the problems that have led many directors to pronounce the story unfilmable, and he did with a very tiny budget. See it! Tentacled fiends of the deep compel you! Oh, if only oneirophrenia and siliconedreamer and mellawyrden and I were all in one place with a little extra moolah and time on our hands, this is the sort of thing we might accomplish. We followed TCoC with Nora Ephron's Bewitched. I know it bombed at the box office and was hated by critics everywhere, but we found much of it rather enjoyable, if only because we're both such fans of the original series. Basically, my take on the film was: it starts out marvelously, loses it's way after about an hour, bogged down in the usual abusrd romantic comedy drivel, then gets back on its feet in the last half hour (about the time we get the dinner party at Jack Wyatt's place), only to come apart again right at the end. It suffers from a screenplay that wants to do everything all at once and keeps stumbling over itself. It's never a total disaster (say, Death to Smoochy bad), but it's frustrating, in that it clearly could have been much better. When it works, it's adorable and hilarious and worth all the crappy bits. Off course, it's probably easier to like if you only paid to rent the DVD instead of having forked out full theatre price. I will say, the fundamental paradox of the TV series remains unresolved: why would a superhuman being debase herself for the love of a mortal dweeb? And then, when I should have gone to bed, I sat up and watched Captain Nemo and the Undersea City on TCM. Just because.
A big thank you to thingunderthest, whose generously made it possible for me to gorge on 100 LJ icons.
Still no solution for whatever plagues Blogger, and now it's eleven entries behind the LJ mirror. I'm beginning to lose faith. But now I must write. And you should subscribe. Believe me. It's the right thing to do.
P.S. — It would appear that I just solved my Blogger problem by simply emptying my browser's cache (?!?!?). So, if I have enough spunk left after writing today, I'll begin posting all the frelling missed entries to the blog...*sigh*.