"I live like a worm."
Cloudy and cooler today. The last couple of days have been brutal. Yesterday, the temperature in the middle parlour reached 86˚F. And the temperature in Providence on Tuesday climbed to 97˚F, with a heat index well over 100˚F. There was a little rain last night, but the drought continues.
I've sorta been working. Yesterday, I typed up a bunch of the corrections to the ARC of Beneath an Oil-Dark Sea, but stopped when the heat in my office made me woozy. A wonderful word, "woozy." And there's been email. And talking through screenplay stuff. And this afternoon I'm talking with Josh Boone before I make the big push to immerse myself in The Red Tree again. I just emailed my agent to tell her that we need to talk very soon about Interstate Love Song, because, as I said to her, I'm getting very anxious that it's been more than three years now since I've released a novel under my own name.
Night before last, swamped by a sudden fit of nostalgia, I logged into World of Warcraft for the first time since May 5, 2014. A rolled a new character, a blood elf warlock named Nillishna, and so far I've played her to level seventeen. There's nine hours I'm never getting back. And so it goes.
From Facebook:
I just heard the news that National Geographic has been sold to Rupert fucking Murdoch. I've been a subscriber since 1996. I'll not be renewing my subscriber. What the fucking fuck? (September 9)
~ and ~
Dear Blizzard (World of Warcraft): Please note that "Enable Twitter functionality" and "Enable Twitter" mean EXACTLY THE SAME GODDAMN THING...and the latter avoids an utterly odious "word." (September 9)
~ and ~
I can't help but feel that, in a very real sense, prose fiction is dead, that the 20th Century was its glorious last hurrah. And now we're all writing eulogies and footnotes. (September 9)
~ and ~
So far, the most difficult part of adapting The Red Tree as a screenplay might be my longstanding, strong disdain for reading my own work. Over and over. And over. And over.
~ and ~
“I never reread what I've written. I'm far too afraid to feel ashamed of what I've done.” ~ Jorge Luis Borges (September 9)
~ and ~
Honestly, I don't know if I can possibly survive another trip through horrid The Red Tree audiobook. I truly hate it. Sarah sounds like Pam Swynford de Beaufort and Constance is vapid and chipper. THIS is why audiobooks should be read, not dramatized. (September 7)
And then...
TTFN,
Aunt Beast
I've sorta been working. Yesterday, I typed up a bunch of the corrections to the ARC of Beneath an Oil-Dark Sea, but stopped when the heat in my office made me woozy. A wonderful word, "woozy." And there's been email. And talking through screenplay stuff. And this afternoon I'm talking with Josh Boone before I make the big push to immerse myself in The Red Tree again. I just emailed my agent to tell her that we need to talk very soon about Interstate Love Song, because, as I said to her, I'm getting very anxious that it's been more than three years now since I've released a novel under my own name.
Night before last, swamped by a sudden fit of nostalgia, I logged into World of Warcraft for the first time since May 5, 2014. A rolled a new character, a blood elf warlock named Nillishna, and so far I've played her to level seventeen. There's nine hours I'm never getting back. And so it goes.
From Facebook:
I just heard the news that National Geographic has been sold to Rupert fucking Murdoch. I've been a subscriber since 1996. I'll not be renewing my subscriber. What the fucking fuck? (September 9)
~ and ~
Dear Blizzard (World of Warcraft): Please note that "Enable Twitter functionality" and "Enable Twitter" mean EXACTLY THE SAME GODDAMN THING...and the latter avoids an utterly odious "word." (September 9)
~ and ~
I can't help but feel that, in a very real sense, prose fiction is dead, that the 20th Century was its glorious last hurrah. And now we're all writing eulogies and footnotes. (September 9)
~ and ~
So far, the most difficult part of adapting The Red Tree as a screenplay might be my longstanding, strong disdain for reading my own work. Over and over. And over. And over.
~ and ~
“I never reread what I've written. I'm far too afraid to feel ashamed of what I've done.” ~ Jorge Luis Borges (September 9)
~ and ~
Honestly, I don't know if I can possibly survive another trip through horrid The Red Tree audiobook. I truly hate it. Sarah sounds like Pam Swynford de Beaufort and Constance is vapid and chipper. THIS is why audiobooks should be read, not dramatized. (September 7)
And then...
TTFN,
Aunt Beast