Yesterday, I did 1,049 words on "The Steam Dancer" (for Sirenia Digest #19), and I'm still feeling very good about this piece. Though it's set in the 1896 of some alternate history Colorado, I'm trying to keep most of the alternate history stuff way in the background. The piece has, I think, a nice economy; spare, pared down, yet lyrical. After the writing and after dinner, when the sun had set and it was at last cool enough that the birds had begun to sing again, we dared venture outside. Spooky and I walked over to Videodrome to return a DVD. On the way, we met a pretty little snowshoe Siamese, about half Hubero's size, who was probably much too friendly for its own good. Everything after that is a blur of Second Life. The tips were good last night though; I brought in more than $800 Lindens (after the club's cut). And I discovered Nareth Nishi #4, who I'm presently thinking of as Samurai/Road Warrior Nareth.
This comment to yesterday's entry by unknownbinaries, regarding my remarks on the subversive nature of my erotic writings:
At risk of sounding like a gibbering fangirl, that dissolution—I've never seen it as subversion, personally—of barriers is what I've loved about all your work. The idea that, if you look just right, the barriers aren't really there, they were just limits in your perception.
As with all things, the perception of barriers lies along a continuum. Each person perceives barriers from herhisits subjective point of view, a pov born of the unique complexities of each perceivers private, personal history. Most people seem to be very wedded to perceptions wherein the boundaries between, say, plant and animal are absolute, wherein the boundaries between solid and liquid, good and evil, particle or wave, male and female, or (one of the worst) human and "animal" are possessed of some objective, external reality. I would argue this is because such a perception is somehow especially beneficial to the maintenance of the sort of society we live in and so is selected for. Society shapes a status quo perception that will not threaten it, or that will at least threaten it only rarely. So, when I say that the pieces in Frog Toes and Tentacles or Tales from the Woeful Platypus or Sirenia Digest are subversive, I mean that they subvert these perceptions. They are transgressive relative to that way of perceiving which needs to place things here or here. It may be that this infinitesimal fraction of the multiverse we inhabit is defined only by the illusions of boudaries, and if so (and we may never have an objective, empirical means of determining this, of course) then fiction that treats the boundaries as fluid and mutable is in some sense truer to Nature than that which does otherwise. But when I'm speaking of subversion, I'm speaking of the effect the works in question may have upon the minds of the perceivers (readers), how its gestalt may clash with that of the reader. And, I like to think, how it might lead readers to question their own ideas about boundaries, which would make it actively subversive.
I've had a number of people wanting more details about Frank Woodward's HPL documentary, Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown, the one I was interviewed for back in April. Frank keeps a blog here, and, I think, is doing regular updates as the documentary's production proceeds (and talking about lots of other weird and wonderful stuff).
Okay. Herr Platypus is showing me them venomous spurs, so I gotta go. Later, kiddos.