greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,

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running late

Not quite sure why, but I'm running about half an hour late this morning. Sometimes it just happens that way.

The writing went quite well yesterday, Mr. Philpott's commentary aside, and I did another 1,015 words on the prologue, getting Part IV started. As I said late yesterday, the book has begun to unfold in my mind. This one had me pretty freaked out for a while. The story just wasn't coming. I was beginning to think that it never would. And then it did. The infinity of possibilities resolved into only a handful of probable outcomes, with one or two shining most brightly in my mind's eye. This is often the way it is for me. And for those who've asked questions about the subject matter, yes, this is a book about the ghouls, glimpsed or mentioned in both Low Red Moon and Murder of Angels. It follows from Low Red Moon (and a couple of my short stories, "So Runs the World Away," "The Dead and the Moonstruck," and, to a lesser extent, In the Garden of Poisonous Flowers), with about ten years having occurred between the two books. It looks as though it will be set entirely in New England. As for returning characters, you'll see Deacon and Sadie. More I shall not yet say. I think I'm going to like this book immensely. Yesterday, I wrote to The Guess Who, The Rolling Stones, The Searchers, and Zager and Evans' "In the Year 2525." Not at all my usual writing music, but perfect for the scene.

Also yesterday, before I could get to the writing, I did an 850-word bio for the Fiddler's Green souvenir book and picked out a photo for them to use (me with the Argentinosaurus at the Fernbank Science Center).

Also, my contributor's copies of The Last Pentacle of the Sun: Writings in Support of the West Memphis 3 arrived, which includes "Night Story 1973" by Poppy and me, as well as artwork by Clive Barker, and fiction, lyrics, and commentary by such folks as Margaret Cho, James Hetfield, Peter Straub, and Bentley Little. I urge you to pick up a copy of the anthology. All proceeds go to the Damien Echols Defence Fund. I asssume that most of you are familiar with the plight of Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin, and Jessie Misskelley, but if you aren't, proceed to this site. This nightmare has been going on for eleven years now, and it's long past time to bring it to an end.

I need to try and reach Bernie Wrightson today. I need to e-mail my editor at Penguin. I need to ask Bill Schafer at Subterranean Press a question, and e-mail Derek Pegritz (he of Nyarlathotep). But mostly, I just need to frelling write.

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