Yesterday, I sort of went back to work. It was time for the "vacation" part of the semi-vacation to end, and I was in such a foul mood, and it was so cold out, I figured that I might as well work. First, I tried to make sense of all the anthologies I've been asked the write for. I see I have stories due in May, June, and July, and that's going to be a crunch, what with Joey Lafaye coming up. Afterwards, Spooky and I started reading over "Emptiness Spoke Eloquent," which is being reprinted in The Very Best of the Mammoth Book of Best New Horror, as the story representing Volume Nine (1998). Now, this is a short story that I wrote in November 1993, fifteen years ago. Well, actually, it's more complicated than that. The first half was written in November '93, and then the second half was written in the summer of '97. It hasn't been reprinted since it appeared in my collection From Weird and Distant Shores in 2002. Which means I've not looked at, much less read, the piece in about six years. And, being me, I couldn't just send it off to Steve without going over it. And here's the me of Now reading the me of Then, and I'm not awfully happy with what I see. So, yesterday was spent reworking much of the language in the first part of the story. I still have the second half to go. It feels like utter madness, when I'm so tired, and there's so much else to be done, and I could have just sent in the story as is. But "Emptiness Spoke Eloquent" was only the third short story I wrote for publication (we're not counting the genuine juvenilia and college crap), and it bears very little resemblance to the writer I have become. It's an artifact (all the stories are, but this is an old artifact), and I can't help but "fix" certain things before I see it reprinted again (this will be it's fourth appearance in print, since Autumn 1997).
Of course, this is not an isolated case. I virtually never allow a story to be reprinted without making at least minor edits. Usually, they are more than minor.
Unexpectedly warm today. Warm and very windy. It's 60F as I write this.
Elsewise, yesterday was that black mood (which is only very little improved today). I did get some reading done. Chinese for dinner, fried rice and wonton soup. We watched two more eps of Doctor Who (Series 4), the two-part Sontaran invasion story. And then we watched the latest episode of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, which I thought was quite a bit better than usual (maybe it was the absence of Thomas Dekker). Then we played enough WoW that Shaharrazad and Suraa both made Lvl 38. Booya. My black mood was well matched to slaughtering ogres in the Alterac Mountains and humans in that little Syndicate hovel along the shores of Lordaeron Lake. The humans make better sport.
Okay. Enough of this for now. I've been at this since 11:28 ayem, and now it's after noon.