January 19th, 2006


make up your own damn subject (we're interactive now)

Yeah, no entry yesterday. I was beginning to sound a bit like a belligerent drunk, so I gave myself a time out. I don't like belligerent drunks. I have always prided myself on being, in Poppy's words, a "charming drunk."

But yesterday was amazing.

For one reason or another, I've been having a very difficult time with the vignettes this month (and my thanks to everyone for being so cool about the delay). There were the two long false starts. There were days I just stared at the iBook for hours and hours. There were days when I wouldn't go near it. And then there was yesterday.

Vince e-mailed on Tuesday night to say that he'd be going out of town on Saturday, and would be gone for a few days, and to pose the question, "When might I ever get around to sending him something new to illustrate?" Apparently, this was my "stop frelling around and write something you can use" cue. Because yesterday I did 2,528 words in about three hours. It was an angry, frustrated, furious storm of words. When it was over, I had a headache and one of the best vignettes I've written thus far. I still have both this morning. 2,528 words falls a few hundred words short of my Best Day Ever®, but, considering I did it all in a mere three hours might qualify yesterday for my personal Most Words Written in the Shortest Amount of Time®. Towards the end, my agent called. Spooky answered the phone, and I shouted something like "No! No phone. I can't fucking stop!" Thankfully, when Merrilee heard that I was actually writing, that I was making words, she was nothing but happy that I was too busy to talk. I'm not yet sure what the piece will be called. Yesterday I called it "Strange Fruit" (nod to Billie Holiday), but as soon as I was finished, I realized the title didn't fit. I have to find a new one today. I'm not sure if erotica should be angry and grim and terrifying and bitter, but it works for me. I rode my frustration. I kicked the bitch in the ribs until it spat up what I needed.

And I even did it without absinthe. I did it without the little blue pills. I did it without presents, boxes, or bows. I felt like I was hammering the keyboard with my fists. This morning, though, nothing seems to be broken, which is good, because I have to do it again today. I e-mailed the vignette to Vince immediately. He'll likely have a heart attack, and then I'll have to do the illustration myself.

And don't even get me started on all the cheesy ponygirl porn I looked at before the words started to come. (But no, the vignette has nothing to do with ponygirls. The next one might, though.)

And a big thank you to my agent and to my editor who have kindly granted me an extra month to tidy up Daughter of Hounds before I turn it in. If I believed in Heaven and angels, I'd believe that all the angels in Heaven would shower them both with riches and good fortune for their generosity. Which is to say, I'm very relieved to have the extension.

Last night, well, last night was The Santino Rice Show...er, I mean Project Runway (yes, Zulema deserved that win), and then I listened to Spooky read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. And speaking of Spooky, go to her LJ and check out the amazing dolls she's been working on (you'll have to scroll past all the more recent yammerings about the Legendary Pink Dots). Oh, and the true measure of a nerd household is what reading material is to be found in the bathroom. Last night, I noted that we presently have something Spooky's reading called The Culture of Sewing: Gender, Consumption, and Home Dressmaking. There's also The Dinosauria (that one's mine), along with the new issues of Game Informer and Wired. Pass the horn-rimmed glasses, please.

And speaking of naked women (there's one of the cover of The Culture of Sewing: Gender, Consumption, and Home Dressmaking, sitting at a very old Singer sewing machine, just like the one Spooky's been using lately), remember sometime last year when I promised everyone a nudie photo of me, and all you got was a photo of Sophie (my seventeen-year-old cat)? Remember the pain and turmoil and gnashing of teeth? Remember the sense of betrayal? No? Well, here's a link. Anyway, I'm feeling kinda good today (except for the headache), and kinda reckless, so I think I shall make amends. Perhaps this will even be my new author's photo. I'm wearing a little too much makeup and was making a goofy Gwen Stefani face and have Cleopatra hair, but...well...you be the judge.

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