On Saturday, I wrote only 516 words, because that's all it took to find THE END of Chapter Six of Red Delicious. Today is the day I promised my editor she'd have the whole ms. But...well...that's not going to happen. I shy away from plotting, for this very reason. Okay, here I have this plot, with all these elements, and they have to come together and have resolutions and blah, blah, blah...who gives a shit? It's not what I consider writing. It is, instead, some sort of parlour trick. Someone says, "Kiernan's novel is poorly plotted," I take that as a compliment. But, here, it has to be done. Only about ten thousand words stand between me and finishing the novel. That's a weeks work, at most. But Quinn in an elaborate intrigue, playing three competing parties against one another...and against her own interests.
Yesterday, I wrote nothing. We read through Chapter Two of The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, because that's another thing I should have been done with long ago – the revision of that text for the Centipede Press edition. But I can hardly ever stand to read anything I've written once it's published, and in this case it's more difficult than usual. The book is just too personal.
The weather is murdering me. But...today there's a reprieve, and perhaps tomorrow will be even better. I need to tell these deadlines to go fuck themselves and leave the house. And likely that's what I'll do.
There's a photo, behind the cut, with an explanation:
On my desk – and ignore the dodo (from the Yale Peabody Museum) and the Ninth Doctor action figure. Here is this ceramic dish, and inside it are seven objects. because seven's a good number. Seven is a number with a keystone. Anyway, a photo of this tray appeared in a recent post, a different photo, but I offered no explanation. Oh, and sorry for the lousy focus, the shallow depth of field. It was late, I was tired, yadda, yadda. In the center is the shell of a common periwinkle, Littorina littorina. from Rye Beach, New Hampshire, which I picked up in October 2012. Moving clockwise, the green-grey stone, I picked that up in Oregon back in 1996, in a stream flowing into the Pacific, maybe fifty yards from shore. The brick-colored stone, red and grey, Ryan Obermeyer picked that up for me on the shore of the Red Sea in Egypt. The white stone at twelve o'clock, that's a moonstone from Moonstone Beach, right here in Rhode Island. Beside it, though hard to see here, is an Irish caoga pingin, or fifty-pence piece, which I brought back from Dublin in April 1996 ('96 was a big year for me and travel). Next, a very old piece of beach glass I picked up below Joyce's Tower in Sandycove, Ireland. Finally, the dark stone was sent to me by Jada, which she picked up on a beach somewhere in Jamaica. So, I keep these things, to remind me that though I mostly live trapped in this office, there is a world out there.