greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,
greygirlbeast
greygirlbeast

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a hundred yellow bullets

I did 896 words on "The Pearl Diver" yesterday. That's 2,973 words since I began it on Saturday. I'm not sure whether or not I shall manage to do with this story what I mean to do with this story. Ah, well. Those who subscribe to doctrines of the "fallacy" of authorial intent would say it makes no never mind. I'm generally of the opinion that those people can all go to hell, but sometimes you take comfort where you find it. It seems as though there is a veil between me and what I'm trying to communicate. I keep reaching out and almost touching it. But I only sense the rough shape beneath the cloth, and then the veil seems to push me away. This morning, Spooky's going to read aloud what I've done so far. My "new" style may be less ornate, but it still matters to me what it sounds like. A writer who can't be bothered with the sound of his or her prose needs to find another line of work.

I hope to have "The Pearl Diver" done by Friday (though I may ask a couple of people to read it before it goes to the editor), at which point I have to actually begin Daughter of Hounds. And there's so much of that novel still unclear to me.

I think Spooky's a little restless. During the trip, we were constantly on the move, never slowing down. Since we've returned, the old routine has reexerted itself full force. I'm much more the homebody than is she. I'm perfectly happy to be here, most of the time. There's so little out in that Other world that concerns me. Here I have my books and iBook, the internet, PlayStation, XBox, DVDs, my music, and so forth. These are the things I need. I've almost become some weird sort of pseudo-agoraphobic shut-in. And I don't really mind, not after decades of trying to get along Out There. But it clearly wears on Spooky. Anyway, last night she dragged me away from an interview on G4 with Steve Wozniak to go out looking for DVDs we couldn't find. Back home, we played Godzilla: Destroy All Monsters, watched more of Farscape Season Four ("Natural Election"; 4:6), played even more of G:DAM, then went to bed and read Pet Sematary until about 2 a.m.

I haven't heard the new Cure CD yet, but I've heard good things about it. I'm one of those weirdos who thinks Disintegration is their best album, and I've been disappointed with everything they've released since. Spooky did pick up some stuff at Wuxtry on Saturday: Gavin Friday's Each Man Kills the Thing He Loves, Mary Fahl's The Other Side of Time, and Anna Domino's Colouring In The Edge & Outline. I haven't sat down and listened to any of it yet, though.

Spooky ordered her black contacts from England yesterday. We're hoping they'll be here early next week, at the latest. If they look good, I'll order another pair for myself. I so don't want to cave in and pay some asshole optometrist for the privilage of wearing non-prescription SFX lenses. We're getting back to work on our costumes. Spooky's looking at boots and working on a very snazzy vest. She will be a somewhat more subdued Nebari than Nar'eth, I think. I have to finish a holster.

Time to make the doughnuts...
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