"'Cause looking for heaven, I found the devil in me."
We've already sold half of Spooky's Alabaster: Pale Horse pendants, and my thanks to everyone who bought one yesterday. Only three remain. Originally, the money was to go towards getting me a new iPod to replace dear, departed Inara. However, now the proceeds from the pendants can go to other expenses, as the postman brought me a new iPod yesterday (as yet unnamed). My grateful thanks to Sara Hiat for such a generous gift.
Cold, sunny, and it looks as if they've put the snow back in the forecast.
Yesterday I wrote 1,001 words on Cherry Bomb. It was a somewhat surreal afternoon, sitting here wrestling with the words needed to write a conversation between a talking seagull and a naked "werepire" (bathing in the fountain at City Hall Park in Manhattan). On the one hand, my intention is to write a novel as least as good as the first two, and, I hope, better. On the other, this book's motto is "We can fix it in post." I have declared this novel to be "SplatterRom." But. This month I also have to write a story for Sirenia Digest #97 and my story for Neil Clarke's Upgraded: A Cyborg's Cyborg Anthology. I've actually considered opening comments to suggestions for a cyborg story. As in, provide a single sentence that could become the story.
And speaking of Pink Delicious, the reviewer for Library Journal writes:
Siobhan Quinn-but really, you better just call her Quinn-returns in a second helping of blood-soaked mayhem (after 2013's Blood Oranges). The half-werewolf, half-vampire ex-junkie is still working for Mr. B., who wants her to look for the missing daughter of a wealthy necromancer. The job puts her in the middle of a dispute between two demonic interdimensional beings who both want to possess a rare artifact. VERDICT Kiernan (The Drowning Girl) once again assumes her pen name to bring us an obscene homage to The Maltese Falcon. The pace is fast, the language is profane, and while Quinn is a bundle of bad habits, she is absolutely entertaining.
Yesterday, Kathryn chipped the car out of the glacier our driveway has become, and we ventured over the river. At East Side Market, we bumped into Hazel Hill and Daniel Gorringe. Back home, we had pizza and watched the Olympics' opening ceremonies.
You Can't Choose,
Aunt Beast
Cold, sunny, and it looks as if they've put the snow back in the forecast.
Yesterday I wrote 1,001 words on Cherry Bomb. It was a somewhat surreal afternoon, sitting here wrestling with the words needed to write a conversation between a talking seagull and a naked "werepire" (bathing in the fountain at City Hall Park in Manhattan). On the one hand, my intention is to write a novel as least as good as the first two, and, I hope, better. On the other, this book's motto is "We can fix it in post." I have declared this novel to be "SplatterRom." But. This month I also have to write a story for Sirenia Digest #97 and my story for Neil Clarke's Upgraded: A Cyborg's Cyborg Anthology. I've actually considered opening comments to suggestions for a cyborg story. As in, provide a single sentence that could become the story.
And speaking of Pink Delicious, the reviewer for Library Journal writes:
Siobhan Quinn-but really, you better just call her Quinn-returns in a second helping of blood-soaked mayhem (after 2013's Blood Oranges). The half-werewolf, half-vampire ex-junkie is still working for Mr. B., who wants her to look for the missing daughter of a wealthy necromancer. The job puts her in the middle of a dispute between two demonic interdimensional beings who both want to possess a rare artifact. VERDICT Kiernan (The Drowning Girl) once again assumes her pen name to bring us an obscene homage to The Maltese Falcon. The pace is fast, the language is profane, and while Quinn is a bundle of bad habits, she is absolutely entertaining.
Yesterday, Kathryn chipped the car out of the glacier our driveway has become, and we ventured over the river. At East Side Market, we bumped into Hazel Hill and Daniel Gorringe. Back home, we had pizza and watched the Olympics' opening ceremonies.
You Can't Choose,
Aunt Beast