November 20th, 2004


a wish to be still

It began raining here last night, just as Spooky and I were finishing up the removal of all those books from this place and their subsequent transport to that place. It's rainy out there today, throwing some doubt on our plans to move all the bookshelves this afternoon (there are twelve). I desperately want to get the office up and functioning. Work is an avalanche right now, and I've written nothing since our return from Minneapolis.

I'm not one of those authors who can "write anywhere." I've heard many authors, some of whom are friends of mine, make this bold claim. I always look at them suspiciously. To write, I must have certain material components and a space which falls within particular, exact enviromental parameters which my imagination has grown to expect over the years. In biology, this is called over-specialization, the reliance on a narrow (and easily lost) set of conditions for survival. My artistic conditions are scattered at the moment. I need to reach that moment where they are not.

I'm glad that people have taken seriously my report that The Dry Salvages is going fast. Last night, the book's sales rating on Amazon had risen to 3,945, an amazing rank for a limited edition book from a specialty press. This morning, it was still at 4,158. At this point, I'm not sure if Amazon will be able to reorder when their present stock runs out. And Subterranean Press will not be doing a second printing, though at this point I suspect a second printing would do quite well.

The next person reading this who sees Neil should kick him in the ankle and say, "That's from Caitlín, because The Carpenters' "Close To You" has been stuck in her head since the night you showed the MirrorMask previews." Thank you.

Last night, we watched Ju-on: The Grudge, because I wanted to see the original before I see the remake. It was, indeed, a creepy film, making superb use of sound — too few dark fantasy films understand the value of sound — and things half-glimpsed. The narrative was marvelously non-linear, and I appreciated the lack of resolution and exposition offered by the ending. My main gripe was with the lighting. It's an atrociously overlit film, and much of its impact is lost because of this. Shadows, people, shadows.

I think I'll close with a meme. I snurched it from cheekytubemouse. I think it's one of the odder memes that I've seen (though I'm not sure why it strikes me so oddly). My answers are bracketed:

My journal is called [Low Red Annex], because [it's a mirror of my blog, Low Red Journal].

My subtitle is [Confessions of a Lady Writer and Alien Malcontent] because [I think that says it all].

My friends page is called ["Guilty by Association"] because [that's what passes for wit around here].

My username is [greygirlbeast] because [I wanted something descriptive].

My default userpic is [me with a Stegosaurus] because [I don't want people to know how completely obsessed I am with the Nebari].

Like I said, it's an odd meme. Now I must go pack some more.
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