Waking the witch.
Here, on the last day before we leave for Rhode Island, it seems just barely possible that we'll get everything done that has to be done before tomorrow morning. Yesterday was a long day. I had to find epigraphs for Daughter of Hounds, which led to William Wordsworth and Lord Byron and William Blake and a dozen or so others before I finally settled on three quotes from Emily Dickinson and one from Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I like the epigraphs, though I am disappointed that the two lines from The Decemberists' song "Of Angels and Angles" that I'd originally intended to use as the opening epigraph won't be appearing in the novel, because I never got around to contacting the band or their label for permission and now there's no more time for such things. I will post the lines here, though:
There are angels in your angles,
There's a low moon caught in your tangles.
I tweaked and fiddled with the ms., finally rewriting a paragraph near the end, and, That's enough, I said to myself and pushed it away. Today, it goes back in the mail to NYC. For all intents and purposes, it's done. I'll get one last read-through, but only very minor corrections can be made at that point. There were so many other things yesterday, but just now, none of them seem interesting enough to write down. I did assist Ignatius with a letter of introduction which he was supposed to write weeks ago, a letter for poor Snapdragon who leaves us today for California. He was surly and kept tipping over the inkwell and breaking nibs, pretending it was all accidental when I knew otherwise. I can hardly blame his reticence, but I have assured him she will be in good hands.
I was sort of appalled by the Publisher's Weekly review of Neil's new collection, Fragile Things. As quoted in his journal, the reviewer wrote, "most of these stories rely too heavily on the stock-in-trade of horror, sci-fi and fantasy." I'm not sure if the reviewer just hates fantasy - in which case I have to wonder why sheheit was given the book to review - or if hesheit is saying that the stories in question weren't innovative. The charge is patently absurd, in either case.
I'm still dithering over the fate of Nebari.net, but I do agree with those who've written in to say that if I allow the domain to expire, it'll be squatted. That's one reason I'm reluctant to let it go.
Also, thanks to everyone who's had kind words for Sirenia Digest #8 so far. It's not too late to get #8. Just subscribe today. I am growing increasing fond of the digest. I think it has turned out to be a very successful experiment. Not only is it paying the rent, it's allowing me to write things I probably would not have written otherwise. I hope that it will still be going strong this time next year - stronger - as it has proven a wonderful vehicle for my short fiction.
Last night, when we were finally too tired to do anything more, we watched Star Trek: Insurrection (1998), which I still cannot recall if I saw in the theatre. It felt more like a long episode of ST:TNG than a film, and the whole thing between Riker and Trois just oogs me out, but, still, as Star Trek movies go, it was quite enjoyable. Night before last, we watched John Wayne, Jeffrey Hunter, Ward Bond, Natalie Wood, and a whole bunch of other people in the 50th-anniversary DVD release of John Ford's The Searchers (1956).
Okay, it's almost noon. And there's still more to do than I care to think about.
There are angels in your angles,
There's a low moon caught in your tangles.
I tweaked and fiddled with the ms., finally rewriting a paragraph near the end, and, That's enough, I said to myself and pushed it away. Today, it goes back in the mail to NYC. For all intents and purposes, it's done. I'll get one last read-through, but only very minor corrections can be made at that point. There were so many other things yesterday, but just now, none of them seem interesting enough to write down. I did assist Ignatius with a letter of introduction which he was supposed to write weeks ago, a letter for poor Snapdragon who leaves us today for California. He was surly and kept tipping over the inkwell and breaking nibs, pretending it was all accidental when I knew otherwise. I can hardly blame his reticence, but I have assured him she will be in good hands.
I was sort of appalled by the Publisher's Weekly review of Neil's new collection, Fragile Things. As quoted in his journal, the reviewer wrote, "most of these stories rely too heavily on the stock-in-trade of horror, sci-fi and fantasy." I'm not sure if the reviewer just hates fantasy - in which case I have to wonder why sheheit was given the book to review - or if hesheit is saying that the stories in question weren't innovative. The charge is patently absurd, in either case.
I'm still dithering over the fate of Nebari.net, but I do agree with those who've written in to say that if I allow the domain to expire, it'll be squatted. That's one reason I'm reluctant to let it go.
Also, thanks to everyone who's had kind words for Sirenia Digest #8 so far. It's not too late to get #8. Just subscribe today. I am growing increasing fond of the digest. I think it has turned out to be a very successful experiment. Not only is it paying the rent, it's allowing me to write things I probably would not have written otherwise. I hope that it will still be going strong this time next year - stronger - as it has proven a wonderful vehicle for my short fiction.
Last night, when we were finally too tired to do anything more, we watched Star Trek: Insurrection (1998), which I still cannot recall if I saw in the theatre. It felt more like a long episode of ST:TNG than a film, and the whole thing between Riker and Trois just oogs me out, but, still, as Star Trek movies go, it was quite enjoyable. Night before last, we watched John Wayne, Jeffrey Hunter, Ward Bond, Natalie Wood, and a whole bunch of other people in the 50th-anniversary DVD release of John Ford's The Searchers (1956).
Okay, it's almost noon. And there's still more to do than I care to think about.