Spooky and I were just talking, and the subject of Stephenie Myer came up (like a bad penny). And I said that while it's true Myer can't write her way out of a wet paper bag, it's also true that she succeeded by merely giving the people what they want. I pointed out that this is a thing that I seem pathologically incapable of doing, even when I try very hard, as I often have. Anyway, stray bits of Sunday morning.
Yesterday, my author's copies of Fossil, the German translation of Threshold, arrived. This is the fourth edition of the novel, and the second foreign language translation (the first was Italian), and, to my eye, it's the most attractive of the lot. The cover has a nice retro feel, like a cover from the 1950s or '60s. I am especially pleased with the tiny Dicranurus trilobites used to divide the chapter sections. So, yeah, that was a nice surprise. The translation was done by Alexandra Hinrichsen.
Early yesterday, we managed to finish with the latest round of line edits to The Red Tree. We would have finished on Friday, but I finally reached the point where I'd corrected so many grammatical errors and word repetitions that I could no longer be sure I whether I was fixing things that were broken or merely changing things (and, thereby, breaking them). This series of line edits has been one of the most excruciatingly tedious in my writing career, I think. And I think I know why, and maybe I'll even go into it in tomorrow's entry. Now, I have to begin work on the issues raised by Anne in her editorial letter, actual revisions (though none are very significant). With luck, I can be done in another week. I'm not feeling very lucky.
We headed back to Moonstone Beach yesterday, to try and relocate and retrieve the iron squid we'd found there on Monday. Usually, I leave these things be, but something about the beached ferropetrateuthid called us back. It was sunny here in Providence, and there was at least a little warmth. But as we crossed into South County, the sun vanished behind clouds. When we reached the beach, the day had turned bitterly cold, much more so than when Spooky and Sonya and I were there on the 2nd. The tide was coming in, and there was a strong, stinging wind. Once again, we walked northeast, to the narrow inlet where Card Pond meets the sea at high tide. After a little searching, we managed to locate the iron squid, though it was now partially submerged in the pond. We bundled it up and walked quickly back to the car. Both Trustom and Card ponds were frozen solid, and the geese and ducks all seemed content with the sky. The only signs of life were signs of expired life: fish bones, gull feathers, clam and snail shells, the remains of a variety of crustaceans (Limulus polypehmus, Homarus americanus, Libinia emarginata, Callinectes sapidus, Cancer irroratus, Carcinus maenas, etc.), mermaids' purses, bits of seaweed, and so forth. A lot of the cobbles that had paved the beach on Monday had been washed back out to sea, and there were patches of ice and snow on the sand. The sky was like a lead weight, laid across the angry sea. No, the sea was not angry, but my mind perceived it as such. It was the first time that I've not wanted to linger on Moonstone Beach. The dead of winter, as they say. But, yes, the only known specimen of an iron squid is now in my keeping. The sun had almost set by the time we made it back to Providence.
Last night, we watched the latest Battlestar Galactica, which I found quite satisfying.
There are a few photos from yesterday behind the cut:
Trustom Pond, frozen solid. View to the southwest, towards the dunes and the sea.
Sky, sea, earth. View to the southwest.
Card Pond, frozen, near the spot where we relocated the iron squid. View to the west.
Carapace of Cancer irroratus.
The inlet south of Card Pond, frozen. View to the southwest.
Photographs Copyright © 2009 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac