Sometimes, the world gets shaken up like a goddamn snow globe, and we lose sight of what's actually important and what's actually only a mixture of water, glycerin, and tiny flakes of white plastic swirling about before our eyes. This past year, I had an amazing novel published. The best, by far, that I have ever written. But I allowed myself to be distracted by a bullshit dream of reaching "El Dorado." People telling me how I've hung the goddamn moon, and how the future's so bright I gotta wear shades, and blah, blah, blah.* But the truth is, The Drowning Girl: A Memoir is, by far, the best novel I've ever written. It may be the best novel I will ever write. And when I should have been working my ass off to see it got every tiny bit of attention possible, I allowed myself to be distracted.
So, let's try this again, shall we? To wit:
I should also like to add that the audiobook of The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, is superb. Direct from Neil Gaiman presents, via Audible, and Suzy Jackson does a great job. Oh, and people often ask me where and how they should purchase my books so that I will best benefit from the sale, and usually, I reply that it doesn't much matter (used copies aside). But I get 50% of all audiobook sales on The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, for what it's worth. So, everyone wins. Though, I also recommend buying the paperback, as well, if only for Vince Locke's illustrations.
Anyway, this is me apologizing to the novel for having been a negligent parent. But the crack binge is now over, and I'm going to try to make it up to Imp. From now on, I'll fuck with my own head, thank you very much.
A chaotic day yesterday. I don't know why I let this short of shit throw me, the sudden emergence of chaos every single time – without fail – that I establish some semblance of order. Anyway, yeah. Chaos. But I worked on the beginning of Chapter One of Fay Grimmer, and now it is less unsightly. Today, and despite what I said yesterday, I am going to read over Chapter Three, and Chapter Four on Thursday, and Friday will be Chapter Five. And THEN I will finish this cockstain. I've decided that when my life is as grandly fucked up as it is at this particular moment I should view deadlines as, at best, suggestions. So, the book will be finished when it's finished. Probably, the first week in December. If I can do 1,500 words a day, beginning on Saturday, I only need ~10 days. Booya, motherfucker.
That said, I should add that my feelings for Fay Grimmer should not color anyone's impression of Blood Oranges. I had fun writing Blood Oranges. Well, some of the time, I did. More than usual. And it's a fun book. It even has a fun cover. And Amber Benson loves it. And you might, too. Just wanted to be clear on that point. By the way (and I find this amusing), on Amazon, the paperback's author is listed as Kathleen Tierney, while the Swindle® version's author is listed as Caitlín R. Kiernan.
My Foot Hurts,
*Cue the Eagles' "Hotel California"