Despite my swollen, aching tongue, I decided that what really needed doing yesterday was the proofing of the galleys for Tales from the Woeful Platypus and the chapbook version of "The Black Alphabet." It turned out to be a bit more reading than I'd expected, almost five-hours worth, but now it's done and I don't have to worry about it anymore. Also, my agent got me a two-week extension on the corrections of the galleys for the mass-market paperback of Low Red Moon, which were originally due on December 1st. Thank you, Liz. So, the mountain of proofreading is looking quite a bit less mountainous today.
However, I did not begin The Dinosaurs of Mars. I intend for that to happen this afternoon.
My tongue is much better, by the way, and my thanks to everyone who offered to send a copy of the October '06 Locus yesterday.
A couple of days ago, looking for some reasonable explanation for my exhaustion, I sat down and made a list of what I've written since returning from New England on August 22nd. It looks like this (not in chronological order):
01. "Untitled 23" for Sirenia Digest 10
02. "In the Praying Windows" (coauthored with Sonya Taaffe) also for Sirenia Digest 10
03. "Daughter of Man, Mother of Wyrm" for Tales from the Woeful Platypus
04. "The Garden of Living Flowers" for Tales from the Woeful Platypus
05. "The Forests of the Night" for Tales from the Woeful Platypus
06. "Still Life" for Tales from the Woeful Platypus
07. "Excerpts from Memoirs of a Martain Demirep" for Tales from the Woeful Platypus
08. afterword for Tales from the Woeful Platypus (discarded)
09. "The Most Beautiful Music I've Ever Read" for the PS Publishing edition of Ray Bradbury's The Day It Rained Forever
10. "The Ammonite Violin (Murder Ballad #4)" for Sirenia Digest 11.
Not to mention having proofread Daughter of Hounds. Now, if I can just get The Dinosaurs of Mars started.
Last night, just barely into Mark Z. Danielewski's Only Revolutions, I was seized with an urgent desire to stop and re-read House of Leaves before proceeding any farther. The same sort of thing happened the first time I tried to read Finnegan's Wake: I stopped and read Ulysses for the third time. I think when we're done with Danielewski, Spooky and I will be reading all thirteen of the Lemony Snicket novels, though I'm also suffering a fierce need to begin Cormac McCarthy's The Road and read Moby Dick again.
And, just to complicate things, Final Fantasy XII arrives on Tuesday.
I'm pretty sure this entry has turned into a Wicked Tool of Procrastination, as it's now fourteen minutes past time to make the doughnuts. The platypus just frowned at me. Okay. Right. I know. I'm coming...