February 14th, 2007

Shaw

the heart's filthy lesson

Yesterday, I wrote 1,470 words — a good writing day — and finished the second piece for Sirenia Digest #15. It still has no proper title, but it will before the issue goes out to subscribers later this month. I do like this piece, very much, if only because it manages to link The Mikado and Armenian werewolf folklore.

The weather was warm again yesterday (low 60s), and we had a good walk, all the way down Euclid to the southern edge of Inman Park, at the L5P MARTA Station. Spooky found neat things on the ground. On the way home, the rain started, and so we got a little damp. The rest of the day was rainy and grey, which is fine enough for writing. After I'd finished the story, I made guacamole, and after dinner I finished up the Joey LaFaye proposal and sent it away to Merrilee. Then I had a hot bath, and the remainder of the evening and some portion of the early morning was spent listening to Spooky read me chapters 11-15 of The Terror. Just before sleep, I read Chapter Six of In the Wake of Madness

Today, of course, since it is Valentine's Day and since it's a day off, the weather is appropriately cold and miserable. Spooky says it's dank. But the warmth will soon return, and, besides, we have plans that do not include the weather.

If you have not yet ordered Daughter of Hounds, the platypus says that today would be a very good time to do so, please and thank you. Or, perhaps, to order that second copy you've been meaning to pick up. The platypus says copies of Daughter of Hounds purchased on St. Valentines Day insure little hearts and flowers all year...wait a minute...sorry about that. Sometimes, the platypus is a wise ass.

Writing this most recent story, I remarked to Spooky how much I prefer the word cock over penis, how it's just a much better word. Even dick is better than penis. Sadly, I have yet to find an informal, alternate word for vagina that possesses such euphony. I detest most slang words for female genitalia — pussy, cunt, etc. — nor do I like the formal Latin terms. Ugly, unwieldy words. They lie flat on the tongue and the ear or they grate on the nerves. Your mileage may vary, naturally.

The Ravens Four auctions were, as it turns out, an insane success. Spooky is very pleased. There was much bidding yesterday, but when all was said and done, the tenacious Mr. Stephen Spector had won all three of the remaining auctions. This morning, ravens Blue, Green, and Black are saying their good-byes to Raven Red. I feel a peculiar mix of excitement and melancholy, watching them, and Raven Red keeps telling the others that he'll write, but I know how that goes. Raven Black keeps packing and unpacking his valise. Raven Blue has just discovered that he hasn't room for all his elixirs and his copy of the Necronomicon. And Raven Green keeps bursting into tears because he will likely never see Hieronymus Borscht again. But all will be sorted out, soon enough. My thanks to everyone who bid. The success of this auction comes at a very fortuitous time, as a certain publisher (you will please note that it is not subpress and not Penguin, who are professional and pay their bills on time) still owes me the substantial check I mentioned a couple of months back.

Anyway, today is to be a day off, and this is starting to feel just a little bit like work.