It has proven an unexpected emotional roller coaster, reading all these stories again. It's not just the stories, but the way they immediately transport me to whatever time and place they were written in. So far, the worst of it has been reading through "San Andreas" on Friday. Gods, what a nasty bit of work. I think that was the first time I wrote a story that made me feel as though I'd done something truly wicked, having put Lark and Crispin through the things they endure in that piece. In part, it was me trying to get Los Angeles out my system. But it's also a lot of other things. Oh, and "Little Conversations" (soon to be "Salammbô Redux" once more) has been sent to Rick Kirk, so there will be one new illustration in the new edition. At any rate, I fear I am lavishing too much time on this book, given everything else that must be done yesterday, so we need to try to wrap most of it up in the next few days.
We had dinner with Byron on Friday night, and then Dr. Who. He came back on Saturday, and we gorged on BBC America, with Torchwood, The Graham Norton Show, and another Dr. Who ("New Earth," which we'd somehow managed to miss). I think I'm going to love Torchwood.
I'll be speaking with Producer D this week, regarding "Onion." The greatest problem that this screenplay presents is that the short story will likely form only one half of the script, the first half. Which means I have to find out what happens after Willa leaves Frank sitting alone beside the Alice sculpture in Central Park.
My day planner says it's Labor Day; but it also says last Monday was Labor Day.
As for my Second Life, it would appear that, on Saturday afternoon, Nareth saved the world — or at least New Babbage — from the ravages of the Old Ones, but I haven't yet had the time or energy to get to it in Professor Nishi's journal. Maybe this evening.
Okay. Gotta find the coffee and get back to the manuscript...