greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,
greygirlbeast
greygirlbeast

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"If I seem lost, well I weighed the cost. And chose my crime. Now it's mine, all mine."

Cold and sunny here in Providence.

Yesterday, the Amazon.com sales ranking for The Red Tree went at least as high as 2,115, which is the highest I've ever seen a book of mine (they may well have gone higher without my seeing). This beats the previous record— 2,962 —set by The Red Tree on December 20th.

These little benchmarks keep me moving forward. Or, at least they present some rough illusion of forward momentum into which I am willing to buy.

No actual writing yesterday. That is, no word count. I spent the afternoon sitting here looking for a story, which I think I have found. Back at the beginning of the month, I started a sort of zombie story, "(Dead) Love Among the Ruins." Then I set it aside to write "The Jetsam of Disremembered Mechanics." Then I wrote "Untitled 34." And I'd actually forgotten the zombie story until I stumbled across it yesterday. Anyway, as I sat here pondering its viability, it changed into a completely different story. That happens, and, usually, I allow it to happen. Today, I will try to write the story it has changed into. And a note to Sirenia Digest subscribers: I'm running late this month, and I'm thinking #49 will be out a day or three late, say sometime between January 1st and 3rd. Vince is working on the illustration for "Untitled 34," and I still have the second story to write.

My thanks to those people who sent Solstice/Cephalopodmas gifts: Adam Fish, Edward V. Helmers, Michael J. Boley, Karen Mahoney, David Szydloski, my Aunt Joanne (who is celebrating her 75th birthday!), and my mom. All gifts have been (and will be) greatly appreciated.

In yesterday's entry I wrote "...and there's a popular delusion, that turning a calendar page, or changing calendars, will lead to better times." And someone on Twitter replied, "...turning the calendar page is Hope." Perhaps it is for some. For me, though, it's really just what happens next. More days. The idea of a tomorrow does not, for me, inherently suggest that anything will get better in any way. I listen to the past, and the past suggests exactly the opposite. But, you know how it goes. Your mileage may vary. Right now, I can only take solace in the fact that, at least, the days are growing longer again, bit by bit.

We went to the market just before dusk yesterday, and there was the most beautiful sunset. I usually take the camera along whenever I leave the House, but yesterday I'd forgotten. But it was an amazing, fiery sunset.
Tags: amazon, cephalopodmas, sirenia, solstice, the red tree, writing
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