Yesterday, I did 1,577 words on "The Steam Dancer," which is sort of funny, because I'd made a note in my day-planner to write today about how nice it is to only be doing about a thousand words a day again, now that all those marches are behind me, but then the story had to go and have an Unexpected Conversation. So that's another never mind. The story's working out well, though. I'd planned it to go to four-thousand words, but now it's going to be at least five. Still, it needs to be finished by this evening, so that I can get started on The Dinosaurs of Mars. Also, there's a meeting with producer D tomorrow about the "Onion" screenplay, and I'd like this story to be done by then. I cannot think about more than three stories at a time, and right now I believe I have about seven in my head. This will, by the way, be my first Second Life story. Which is to say, that I've found that the sim has considerable potential for inspiration and character development, and this is a story that wouldn't have occurred to me had I not started taking part in Second Life during the late lamented vacation.
This comment from
There's another school of thought, though, that all writers write with an Ideal Audience in mind. Could be a spouse (I think Stephen King considers his wife to be his Ideal Reader); could be oneself or someone like oneself. In any event, it doesn't seem as though you write with any particular thing in mind, but rather go with wherever The Writing goes — more organic and flowing than plotted-out and set in stone — so I imagine you don't sit down with the thought of pleasing some hypothetical reader, as ideal as s/he might be. Though I do wonder if, after having finished a particular passage, it occurs to you to think, 'So-and-so will like that bit.'
It is true that I have an Ideal Audience in mind. Me. I am my only Ideal Audience, and there are only rarely exceptions.
And returning to the subject of subversion in my writing,
The subversion of the standard concepts, and the subsequent dissolution of boundaries and blockages seems like something integral to everything you do. It's an intent like breathing, that then gets coupled with any and all other intentions, in your work. Or so it seems to me...
You are right, I believe. I was thinking about this after my response to
Too hot here yesterday. We're trying not to run the air conditioner any more than necessary, both to keep the power bill down and help minimize our carbon footprint. Thank Edison for ceiling fans, and it helps that this place has very high ceilings (maybe 12', though I miss the 18-20' at Liberty House). We're having to take our walks after sunset. The parks are dry and brown. Anything else about yesterday? I've been hogging our only portal into Second Life (though soon this should be remedied, the having of only a single portal), so I let Spooky have the iMac all evening and I went back to the long-neglected Steinbeck bio, and had a cool bath, as well. I didn't have to dance until midnight (9 p.m. SLT). Despite certain annoying customers, I earned something like $1,300 Lindens in tips before I logged off about 3 a.m. I remain transfixed by SL. Captivated. It only increases my fascination that my dancing there has come to feel like a real job.
My thanks to everyone who recommended the latest Placebo album. I think "Meds" might be my new theme song. I've even loaded it onto my MySpace profile page.
Okay. Time to make the doughnuts. And here's the link to the hand-corrected Silk auction, which I forgot to repost yesterday.