"If it takes my whole life, I won't break, I won't bend."
This morning I am tremendously grateful to a particular editor, who has extended the deadline on my next short story from May 15th to May 31st. The last two days have been passed in the panic and cold sweat that comes when the words won't, and the deadline looms, indifferent to my inability to tell tales. And, actually, I'm going to set this new story aside, let it steep a few days, and write a couple of pieces for Sirenia Digest #42.
At least a small portion of my present writing anxiety stems from the fact that human exploration and the ensuing cartography has rendered it all but impossible to tell "lost world" stories. Sure, I do love Google Earth, and Google Mars, and, for that matter, Google Europa. I spend hours pouring over satellite photographs. They fascinate me. But, I also miss the blank spaces on maps, those "Here Be Dragons" voids. And, in particular, I miss the opportunities they afforded writers of weird and speculative fiction. These days, there's nowhere left on this planet to halfway convincingly hide (and then discover) a Caprona, an Erewhon, a Brobdingnag. But, at least we can still turn to deep time, which is what I'm doing in the story that's presently giving me fits. The mapping of Deep Time will likely never be complete, or even halfway so, and, hence, I may freely populate it with any number of heretofore unsuspected microcontinents and atolls.
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Yesterday afternoon, we made a matinée of J. J. Abrams' Star Trek, and I found it entirely and unreservedly delightful. Yeah, the science is pretty much junk, stem to stern, as has always been the case with Star Trek. But so what. It's Star Trek, and Abrams has given the story the reboot it needed after the obscene farce of Star Trek: Enterprise (and Star Trek: Nemesis, while we're at it). I loved the film. Crazy-good space opera. Breathtaking sfx. And the casting is superb. I already knew that I'd love Zachary Quinto as Spock, but I was almost as pleased with Karl Urban as McCoy, Zoe Saldana as Uhura, and John Cho as Sulu. I've never been much for Kirk, but Chris Pine did just fine. And casting Simon Pegg as Scotty was a stroke of pure brilliance. This one's a winner, and, while the film is utterly satisfying, I'm a glutton and was left wanting much, much more, please.
Last night, we watched Abrams Cloverfield (2008) again, because it just seemed the right thing to do. Though, of course, Cloverfield was directed by Matt Reeves, and not Abrams. They do, however, share the same creature designer, Neville Page.
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Having fun with WoW the last few nights. Shaharrazad and Suraa both made Level 67 last night, while trudging through the swampy wastes of Zangarmarsh.
And now, says the platypus, it's time to wrap this up. The dodo concurs.
At least a small portion of my present writing anxiety stems from the fact that human exploration and the ensuing cartography has rendered it all but impossible to tell "lost world" stories. Sure, I do love Google Earth, and Google Mars, and, for that matter, Google Europa. I spend hours pouring over satellite photographs. They fascinate me. But, I also miss the blank spaces on maps, those "Here Be Dragons" voids. And, in particular, I miss the opportunities they afforded writers of weird and speculative fiction. These days, there's nowhere left on this planet to halfway convincingly hide (and then discover) a Caprona, an Erewhon, a Brobdingnag. But, at least we can still turn to deep time, which is what I'm doing in the story that's presently giving me fits. The mapping of Deep Time will likely never be complete, or even halfway so, and, hence, I may freely populate it with any number of heretofore unsuspected microcontinents and atolls.
---
Yesterday afternoon, we made a matinée of J. J. Abrams' Star Trek, and I found it entirely and unreservedly delightful. Yeah, the science is pretty much junk, stem to stern, as has always been the case with Star Trek. But so what. It's Star Trek, and Abrams has given the story the reboot it needed after the obscene farce of Star Trek: Enterprise (and Star Trek: Nemesis, while we're at it). I loved the film. Crazy-good space opera. Breathtaking sfx. And the casting is superb. I already knew that I'd love Zachary Quinto as Spock, but I was almost as pleased with Karl Urban as McCoy, Zoe Saldana as Uhura, and John Cho as Sulu. I've never been much for Kirk, but Chris Pine did just fine. And casting Simon Pegg as Scotty was a stroke of pure brilliance. This one's a winner, and, while the film is utterly satisfying, I'm a glutton and was left wanting much, much more, please.
Last night, we watched Abrams Cloverfield (2008) again, because it just seemed the right thing to do. Though, of course, Cloverfield was directed by Matt Reeves, and not Abrams. They do, however, share the same creature designer, Neville Page.
---
Having fun with WoW the last few nights. Shaharrazad and Suraa both made Level 67 last night, while trudging through the swampy wastes of Zangarmarsh.
And now, says the platypus, it's time to wrap this up. The dodo concurs.