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It's Saturday, which means I have to go have all the little downy hairs on my face, throat, the back of my neck, and shoulders waxed off in preparation for being airbrushed in early September. It has to be done far enough ahead of time that they will have begun growing back in by the time I have the make-up done. Otherwise, you get these strange looking lines between the very smooth skin and the downy skin. Am I making any sense at all? Whatever. I'm sleepy, and this is all I could think of to write about. The first couple of times I did Nar'eth, I didn't bother with that hair, which is normally almost entirely invisible. But the airbrush coats every hair, no matter how small, repeatedly. The result is that a clear hair that you'd normally need a magnifying glass to see can end up looking like something sprouting from a tarantula's rump (if tarantula's were grey, and, come to think of it, maybe some of them are). So. Today is waxing day. I'll look like a boiled lobster for several hours afterwards, but this is the price of perfectionism.

Yesterday, in response to my last entry, docbrite wrote: While I don't feel that I'm churning them out, I also know better than to take for granted that I'll be able to maintain this pace (though of course I'll be pleased as punch if I can).

See. Here's where I went wrong. Silk took me about 27 months to write. Threshold took me 22 months. But then I managed to write Low Red Moon in only about 8 months (it was a weird, fevery experience, writing that book). So, thought I, I did it once, surely I can do it again. When, in September '02, Roc subsequently offerred me a two-book contract, I went for it (Low Red Moon was the first of the two books), and wrote most of Murder of Angels between February and November '03 (though I'd actually done about 100 pp. on it way back in 2000, then shelved them and wrote Low Red Moon, instead). But. Writing Murder of Angels, I discovered how tired I was, that I was faced with a deadline that wasn't appropriate to the novel I was writing, and that I never should have agreed to. Just because I'd done it once, I thought maybe I'd become the sort of author who can write a book a year. It would have been nice, because even writers like money, but it wasn't so. Indeed, forcing myself to try to do such a thing, coupled with all my other writing responsibilities, has wreaked havoc on my mind and body.

docbrite also wrote: Of course, as soon as I dare to ask for two or even three years between books -- assuming I get paid enough to make that feasible -- people will start saying things like, "Is she still writing?" and "Whatever happened to her?"

And this is very true. Or rather, this is what publisher's fear, and, by extension, what writers must also fear. As a whole, the reading public is fickle and seems to have a selectively short memory/attention span. I've been told that this contract change will mean that Daughter of Hounds won't be released until January '07, which means that more than two years will pass between the release of Murder of Angels and the release of Daughter of Hounds. That's a long time in "the industry" (though, in truth, even more time elapsed between Silk and Threshold). And it terrifies me. Sure, there will be specialty/small press releases in the interim, and I'll have short stories in books and magazines, but that's not the same thing. That dren's "off the radar."

Worrying about this sort of thing defeats the purpose of forcing myself to slow down. I just wanted to say "What she said," regarding Poppy's comments. Oh, and whoever the romance-writer tralk is who made the "sensitive Poppy, who can only write one book a year" comment should have her sensative anal regions visited by angry rhinoceras beetles.

We saw The Villiage last night (and if you haven't and want to, stop reading RIGHT THIS FRELLING SECOND). It was absolutely brilliant. We were, however, forced to suffer a Bad Audience in order to see it opening night. I haven't had to endure a Bad Audience in a very long time, as Spooky and I tend to try to stick to matinees and small, artsy theatres. The force of will required to stop myself from standing up and screaming at them, "This isn't funny, you emotionally stunted fuckwits!" almost killed me, I think. When Ivy confronts Noah after Lucius is attacked, the entire right side of the theatre burst into laughter. They did it again when Noah lay dying in the mud. But I somehow managed to enjoy the film despite the idiots. And it's a film I really have nothing but praise for (though I understand people are perceived as more intelligent when they give negative reviews, or at least temper their positive reviews with a few arbitrary complaints). The Villiage has a shot at being the best movie of the summer. See it at once.

And now I have to brush my teeth and dress myself.


( 9 comments — Have your say! )
Jul. 31st, 2004 05:17 pm (UTC)
So was the ending to The Village surprising or forseen? I'm considering watching it later tonight.

(ps, the line about Poppy's critic made me laugh, and I needed a laugh today.)
Jul. 31st, 2004 07:27 pm (UTC)
So was the ending to The Village surprising or forseen?

My best answer is, "See the movie."
Jul. 31st, 2004 09:21 pm (UTC)
I hated "The Village." And while I didn't find the scenes you mentioned to be humorous, I do think there was one unintentionally funny scene. It's the marriage proposal scene, in which Lucius just stands there with that dumb look on his face (this is before it is really established that he is shy and awkward).

I don't think "The Village" has even a fraction of the tension "Signs" generates, and I guessed the twist early on, which made everything that followed seem pedestrian. (To be fair, I also guessed the twist of "The Sixth Sense" early in the game, but I find that movie holds together well anyway.)
Jul. 31st, 2004 09:34 pm (UTC)
It's the marriage proposal scene, in which Lucius just stands there with that dumb look on his face (this is before it is really established that he is shy and awkward).

I'm quite absolutely certain this scene was meant to be funny.
Aug. 1st, 2004 01:03 am (UTC)
That's what I thought at first. But the following reaction scene was played so seriously I changed my mind.
Aug. 2nd, 2004 07:00 pm (UTC)
I hope so. Oh GOD, I hope so ... That chick reminded me of Isabella Linton (also maybe not unintended, seeing as Shyamalan has sited "Wuthering Heights" as a big inspiration for this; of course, Isabella's also a character I've always sorta hoped had SOME intentional humor to her, at least early in her character arch). The transition to the follow-up scene was awkward, however. The audience started laughing, then stuttered out awkwardly when they realized it was being played seriously.

Still, damn good film!
Aug. 1st, 2004 12:29 am (UTC)
The Village was amazingly good. I'll be posting more about it to my LJ later, once I'm no longer running around like a rabid mongoose and ducking into any Wi-Fi hotspot I can find here in Pittsburgh....Suffice to say that even though I *kind of* guessed where the film was going, I was still very pleasantly surprised that it turned out to be as striking and moving a film as it did.

Made me start to think about how I'd like to join a Hutterite community...at least as long as the entire place was outfitted with Wi-Fi access, a T3 fiberoptic backbone, and preferably a nanofabrication system and a googleplex-bit quantum computer.
Aug. 1st, 2004 03:46 am (UTC)
About The Village
It is refreshing to see someone enjoy this film with no qualms about it. I purposely avoided reading anything about "The Village"(I didn't even know that Sigourney Weaver was in it) and I must say that the movie was great. As I wrote in my LJ entry about "The Village", I also had the misfortune of sharing the theater with a horrible audience. I feel a little sad for all those that believe M Night cheated them. No, they cheated themselves out of the movie by not letting the director lead them through his story...
Aug. 1st, 2004 04:05 am (UTC)
Re: About The Village
I feel a little sad for all those that believe M Night cheated them.

Cheated them?

Okay. Whatever.

That sort of attitude always strikes me as so profoundly bizarre. The audience is not the storyteller, only the (in this case) fortunate recipient of the story, and it needs to remember this. It needs to avoid preconceptions that hinder the role of the storyteller.
( 9 comments — Have your say! )