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Morning-Brain Times Twenty
Jun. 15th, 2011 11:10 amSo...the next chunk of "Furious Angels" is roughed out, clocking in at 1,500 in its extremely unpolished state. Sister Blandina continues to be an amazingly difficult character to live inside, since she's essentially an unrepentant speciesist, albeit with valid reasons for her opinions--not quite the Magneto of the Catholic Church, but close to it. Still, she's going to end up getting stomach-punched within the next twenty pages, and the way she chooses to deal with it may make her slightly more understandable.
One way or the other, I've been cutting dead flesh like a motherfucker, and the file is still over 10,000 words. Anybody remember what I said at the start of this little adventure?;)
In other news, last night I had yet another hideous bout of insomnia, followed by this morning's wrestling match with my own digestive system. I think it probably has more than a little to do with the fact that A) tomorrow I have to go up to Queen and Leslie to sit in on Cal's new class for September (yay! Yet pressurized!) and B) I'm going to miss the Stoker Awards, which are being given out on Saturday. Of course, I've known this for a while, so I guess it's been creeping up on me.
Would it be great to win for Best Achievement in a First Novel? Hell, yes. Would it be nerve-wracking to try and "watch" it over the 'Net, even though it's being streamed? Oh my, absolutely. I suppose the smart thing to do would be to get in touch with somebody who is going and send them an acceptance speech, just on the off-chance I win.
Man. I really need some more sleep.
Amended to add: I also managed to inadvertently insult a guy who'd once published me by not recognizing his name when he asked to be my Facebook friend. Problem is, I've been getting a lot of weird requests recently--I have no problem friending people in principle, but a few dudes have apparently decided that me friending them means they can keep trying to IM me and send me strange, badly-formatted messages which all seem to revolve around me donating something to their start-up ventures. Because I have lots of stuff like that just lying around, and scads of free time, right? So "Be my friend?" is a slightly more loaded phrase than it used to be.
Morning-brain indeed. Except that it's afternoon.
One way or the other, I've been cutting dead flesh like a motherfucker, and the file is still over 10,000 words. Anybody remember what I said at the start of this little adventure?;)
In other news, last night I had yet another hideous bout of insomnia, followed by this morning's wrestling match with my own digestive system. I think it probably has more than a little to do with the fact that A) tomorrow I have to go up to Queen and Leslie to sit in on Cal's new class for September (yay! Yet pressurized!) and B) I'm going to miss the Stoker Awards, which are being given out on Saturday. Of course, I've known this for a while, so I guess it's been creeping up on me.
Would it be great to win for Best Achievement in a First Novel? Hell, yes. Would it be nerve-wracking to try and "watch" it over the 'Net, even though it's being streamed? Oh my, absolutely. I suppose the smart thing to do would be to get in touch with somebody who is going and send them an acceptance speech, just on the off-chance I win.
Man. I really need some more sleep.
Amended to add: I also managed to inadvertently insult a guy who'd once published me by not recognizing his name when he asked to be my Facebook friend. Problem is, I've been getting a lot of weird requests recently--I have no problem friending people in principle, but a few dudes have apparently decided that me friending them means they can keep trying to IM me and send me strange, badly-formatted messages which all seem to revolve around me donating something to their start-up ventures. Because I have lots of stuff like that just lying around, and scads of free time, right? So "Be my friend?" is a slightly more loaded phrase than it used to be.
Morning-brain indeed. Except that it's afternoon.
