Quite a good writing day yesterday. I did 1,129 words on "Daughter of Man, Mother of Wyrm" and finished the vignette about five p.m. The final three quarters of the piece came to me in an appropriately fiery torrent. I've decided I'm keeping the title. Now, I have a week to write the remaining 5,921 words of Tales from the Woeful Platypus, if I'm to meet my new deadline of October 1st. I'm thinking that "The Black Alphabet" will be the accompanying chapbook for this volume, which will give me the opportunity to present both halves together.
I slept seven and a half hours last night, which feels like all the sleep in the world, the way things have been this past week. And the worst of the dreams were not so bad. So, my head's clearer today than it's been in some time.
I got the fifth section of our collaboration from Sonya yesterday (we still need a title). Today, I'll write section six. Also, I got the pencils for "Untitled 24" from Vince. A beautiful illustration this will be. Late in the day, I spoke with Bill Schafer at Subterranean Press concerning my next subpress project, The Dinosaurs of Mars, to be published after the fashion of The Dry Salvages, as a stand-alone hardback novella. I shall likely be writing it in October. Details TBA. Oh, also I should mention that Sirenia Digest 11 (October) will include an interview with Vince Locke, which should be very drad.
Late, we had a good and unremarkable walk. TCM's showing a bunch of old Dick Cavett Show episodes, and last night was the interview with Robert Mitchum, which I had to see. I think it originally aired in 1971, as there was some mention of Ryan's Daughter having just been filmed. In 1971 I was only six years old, or seven, depending whether we're talking pre- or post-May 26th. Then we got back to Shakespeare with Kenneth Branagh's 1993 adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing, which I find thoroughly delightful. I've always thought it one of Shakespeare's weaker works, but Branagh gets the most from it. Even Keanu Reeves' inexplicable presence doesn't manage to muck things up, and Michael Keaton's Beetlejuice-esque take on Dogberry is priceless. I'd not seen it since the theatrical release. I'm very frustrated, by the way, that (as far as I can tell) Brannagh's superb adaptations of Hamlet and Henry V are both currently unavailable on DVD. Anyway, after Benedick and Beatrice and Messina, not yet ready for bed, I went back to TCM for more Robert Mitchum, the original 1962 version of John D. MacDonald's Cape Fear, directed by J. Lee Thompson. And then, about 2:15 or so, I crawled away to bed. I drifted off to sleep listening to Zoe Keating and thinking about The Dinosaurs of Mars.
That was yesterday. Except I left out the part about having to go to frelling Target, because we need a lot of candles for Mabon and Samhain and couldn't pay a lot for them. Target's not quite as nasty as Wal-Mart, but it's within spitting distance. If Wal-Mart's ebola, then Target is surely at least bubonic plague. And the nastiness of the Target down on Moreland is compounded by the fact that it has a Pizza Hut and Starbuck's inside. But at least we got a lot of candles.
Okay. I must go write. I'm missing Byron and Jet Li for this, after all. Don't forget: you can still get both Alabaster and Daughter of Hounds from Amazon.com for a mere $27.70. Just do it. Please. Now.