greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,
greygirlbeast
greygirlbeast

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shoot me now

The story is done. "Faces in Revolving Souls" (and I'm probably going to keep that title) finished up at 4,978 words, the last 682 of which were written yesterday afternoon. It's the shortest short story that I've written since "Apokatastasis," way back in August 2001. And the shortest story that I'm likely to write for some time to come, I think. I'm not yet entirely sure how I feel about this one. It turned out darker than I'd originally intended (foolish me, coming to a short story with any intention at all). Spooky and I are going to read through the whole thing this afternoon, and then I'll e-mail it to the anthology's editors.

This morning, where one might imagine there would be a sense of accomplishment or, at the least, relief, there's only the emptiness which I almost always feel after having finished a story. I suppose I could liken it to postpartum depression, but that's something I've never experienced (and likely never will), so it'd be an unreliable analogy, at best. Some of my worst days immediately follow the completion of a short story or novel. Sometimes, I think that my stories have become longer simply because I'm trying to outrun the crush that inevitably follows completion. If I never had to type THE END, then I'd never have to feel this way. No, that's not true. I'd only never have to feel this way for that particular reason.

Next up (because there will be no time alloted for recovery or reflection) is a chapbook for Subterranean Press. It's going to be another Dancy Flammarion story. I'm taking the fragment of prose I wrote for the Camelot Books "mini" chapbook "Alabaster," as well as some of the bits from the beginning of my screenplay Alabaster, and combining them for a full-length short story, which will be titled, naturally, "Alabaster." For those interested in the Dancy chronology, this story takes place a few days before "Waycross." Maybe it will do me good to get back to a familiar character.

I need to get out of here and do anything other than write. I've left the apartment only once since we returned from Birimingham on April 25th.

Yesterday, I looked around me at the mountains of books in my office and resolved to at least consider getting rid of 50-75% of them. I'm sick of hauling them about every time I move, and there's no reason for me to own a small library. Most of these books I'll never even open again, and when I die they'll mostly be tossed out, anyway. If I can find the courage for this purge, I'll keep the reference books, most of the short story collections (I actually read short stories again and again), all of my paleontology books, a tiny handful of novels, and the art/picture books. The rest will go (including, definitely, most of the comics). I figure that would mean ditching at least 1,500 books. And then there are the boxes and boxes and boxes of books in storage in Birmingham...

While I'm at, maybe I'll ditch 90% of the vinyl I'll never play again.

Anyway, whether I like it or not, the day has started, and I'm going to have to hurry to catch up.
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