All Sirenia Digest subscribers should, by this point, have a copy of #31 in their inboxes. If not, please let Spooky know. My thanks for the kind comments to yesterday's entry, regarding the two new stories. I wouldn't mind seeing more comments. (hint, hint)
Yesterday, I wrote 1,245 words on The Red Tree, beginning Chapter Two, which I am racing to finish by month's end. Just now, I'm aiming for a minimum of 1,200 words/day. Every day. At least, unlike the "Mordorian death march" that produced the Beowulf novelization last year, these are my own words, and my own story, and I am free to take it where it needs to go.
I know better than to say "never again." But, still, I am constantly saying "never again" and then eating my words. Yesterday, on the strength of my "signature review," I was offered a regular gig writing reviews for Publisher's Weekly, and I'm taking it, primarily because a) I need the money and b) the reviews will be published anonymously. And, hey, it might even be fun. Who knows?
Also yesterday, Sonya (sovay) was kind enough to go over A is for Alien a second time, this time in galley form, and many errors were caught. I think the ARCs have already been printed and gone out to reviewers.
Yesterday is only the second day since coming to Rhode Island that I managed not to leave the house even once all day long. It's not something I will make a habit of doing, or not doing, or whatever. It just happened. Spooky made egg salad sandwiches for dinner, and we played Unspeakable Words, which really is a sort of anti-Scrabble. It's silly, but a great deal of fun. She beat me two games out of three. I hung four pictures and a plaque. It's starting to look like people live here. Much later, I had about an hour and a half of good rp in Second Life. Life after the fall is proving disquieting, horrific, and somewhat exhilarating. Nareth (well, Labyrinth) had a wonderful showdown with a cocky, prying Catholic priest, and he made the mistake of treating her as though he were facing some demon or common vampire. He was actually left gibbering on the floor, and had to drag himself from the building. I let him go. Where's the sport in killing wounded animals? The Latin did him no good whatsoever. He should have tried Sumerian.
Looks rainy out. That would be nice....