greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,
greygirlbeast
greygirlbeast

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Howard Hughes and the Very Nadir of Self-Confidence

It all comes down to this — I am deeply afraid that I am simply not intelligent enough to write the book that The Red Tree needs to be. And that particular self doubt is compounded by the logistical issues facing the novel's creation. This is the book I thought up to replace Joey LaFaye, which just wasn't happening. That was only back in April. The book is due at the beginning of November. My usual rule regarding how long it takes to write a novel has, over the years, because of industry demands, become less and less applicable. That is, no longer do I have the luxury of writing a book in the time that the book requires to be written. This novel, I'm guessing it needs maybe a year, maybe more. It gets, instead, seven months, and much of that was spent moving from Atlanta to Rhode Island and dealing with the ensuring chaos. Much of it has been spent in illness that made writing difficult.

Still, while convenient excuses are nice and all, I cannot escape the nagging conviction that I'm simply not smart enough to be writing this book.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,028 words on Chapter Six, and I really have to get back up to something closer too 1,500 words a day. At this point, the manuscript stands at 64,238 words, or 255 pages of typescript.

Also, I am plagued by the poor market performance of Daughter of Hounds since its release in January 2007. I'm still largely convinced that it's the best novel I am capable of writing, and it wasn't the "breakthrough" or the "cross-over" or what the hell ever it is these days that they're calling the novel that rescues you from the limbo of mid-list. Whether or not The Red Tree will be as good a novel, it certainly will not be as accessible a novel as was Daughter of Hounds. And writing The Red Tree, this is yet another current I have to swim against, day to day — the performance of Daughter of Hounds.

Okay, how about something less glum? How about something sexy? Last night, Vince sent me his illustration for Sirenia Digest #34. You will recall, this month we're turning the tables, so to speak. He's done a drawing, and now I'm going to write a story to illustrate it. And what an exquisite "story" he has drawn for me. You can see it behind the cut. Be warned, of course, that this is not "work safe," and it might well offend those who are prone to be offended by sexual perversity and abomination and whatnot — you know, the good stuff. That's why it's behind the cut. So you don't have to see if you're that sort of person.





Illustration Copyright © 2008 by Vince Locke. All rights reserved.


Now, like any good pusher, I should remind you that to get the whole story, you have to be a Sirenia subscriber. Fortunately, however, that is both cheap and easy. Just click here.. Drink me. You know you want to.

Last night, we watched Kill Bill (Vol. 2), and speaking of unconventional sexual desires and inclinations...Uma Thurman's hands and feet do it for me every goddamn time. Oh, they're not pretty, I agree. They are, however, quite entirely wonderful. And don't even get me started on the subject of Elle Driver.

Okay. The platypus is showing me the red-hot poker and threatening to get personal if I don't end this entry and return to Chapter Six. But, first, I will remind you about the current eBay auctions. And now, the word mines are waiting...

You've got rain in your eyes,
And a head full of stars,
All the tears you can hold in your hand,
And a room full of sleep,
And a promise to keep.
Isn't it just like love?
In a world made of law, you're just losing the game.
—— The Psychedelic Furs
Tags: doh, joey lafaye, mouthy platypus, sirenia, the red tree, vince locke, writing
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