Word from subpress is that the trade hardback of Alabaster is now "90% sold out." So, if you want a copy, you should probably see to it soon. And on the one hand, this is, of course, very good news. I am pleased and flattered. On the other hand, there's an odd sort of disappointment, knowing that after all the work that went into the volume, it will soon be, effectively, out of print. I went through this same thing with To Charles Fort, With Love. These are books I want out there. I want them to be around for a long time, as they are among my very best work. I want them to be easy to find. Ultimately, this means I have to sell the books to a New York publisher. But NYC publishers fear short-story collections. I loathe my ability to fashion defeat from victory. But there you go. The Subterranean Press edition of Alabaster has been a huge success. I should only dwell on that half of the equation. And, by the way, you can still get it from Amazon.com with a Daughter of Hounds preorder — the two together — for a paltry $27.70.
I've had no coffee yet, and I think it shows.
Right now, I'm juggling stories in my head in a way I've not had to do since my days with The Dreaming. The longish story with Sonya (I think it's gonna be closer to 9,000 words than 8,000) for Sirenia Digest 10, plus the vignettes for Tales from the Woeful Platypus. Yesterday, writing about Rachel Warrant and Aster Linneman and Jacova Angevine (wait...you'll see), that story kept running together with bits of "Daughter of Man, Mother of Wyrm" and "Untitled 23." And I still have two or three more vignettes left to write over the next week or so, even as we're finishing up with the collaboration. Maintaining the autonomy of each story becomes increasingly difficult, preventing bleed through. I prefer to write one piece, finish it, then move on to the next. One thing at a time, please. But, often, that's not the way things work. Not for me, at least.
Spooky is very near to being finished with the Barker, and you can see photos in her LJ. The last shot is the best. I think she's relieved that he's almost done, as she's been struggling with "doll-maker's block" trying to find THE END of this one.
A very fine walk near sunset yesterday. Wonderful clouds rolling across Atlanta. In Freedom Park, we watched a guy flying two model airplanes. Then we spotted a red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis), which flew across the park and lighted in the high, dead branches of the lightning-struck tree from my strange dream back in March (which, if you've forgotten, you may read about here). It sat up there, preening, and staring down at us. Two more hawks flew past. Spooky took a few photos, but the zoom on our digital camera renders everything grainy and indistinct, especially in low light, and it was almost dark (plus cloud cover). Back home, we added more cannellini's to the bean and red cabbage soup and got a third night out of it.
Last night, we watched James Goldstone's Brother John (1971) with Sidney Poitier. I'd not see the film since sometime in my long-lost preteens. Brother John is a wonderfully understated sort of science fiction, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
Okay. Words. Coffee. Words. I must begin a new vignette today, while Sonya finishes our collaboration.