"And the fact you're always waking in the night, night."
This isn't The Hunger Games icon I want, but I don't think the one I want exists, and I haven't had time to make it. So, this is my "placeholder."
If you've not read this article - "White Until Proven Black: Imagining Race in The Hunger Games," by Anna Holmes - over at the New Yorker website, then you ought stop reading this silly and, ultimately, inconsequential blog entry and do so now.
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The weather is rainy and cold here in Providence. Cold spring. I am buried in work yammering for my attention, but the rain and the cold only make me want to sleep.
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Yesterday, Rachel Edidin - my editor at Dark Horse - tweeted a link to this photograph:
She's at Seattle's Emerald City Comicon this weekend. And there's Dancy. BIG. And it sort of freaks me out, in a good way, seeing this. And having said that....
The first issue of Alabaster: Wolves will be released on April 11th (!!!!). And I cannot say this too emphatically: the success of this project depends entirely on sales. Yeah, I know. Stating the obvious, right? I don't care. This book means a lot to me, and I want to see it succeed, and numbers from the first issues are going to be EXTREMELY important. If there's not a comics shop near you, you can order online. If you don't want to buy paper-and-ink comics, Dark Horse has the digital option (at this very moment, you can read a preview of #1 at the website). You can order from the website now, and you'll get the comic on the 11th. If you can afford more than a single copy, give a few to your friends. Leave them on park benches and subway seats. Just please, please, please be sure to pick up a copy (one way or another), and thank you.
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Yesterday, Kathryn and I read over "Nor the Demons Down Under the Sea (1957)," which an editor has asked to reprinted in a forthcoming anthology of Lovecraftian fiction (TBA). I wrote it in July and August of 2000, and I honestly had no idea how I'd feel about it after so many years. I was pleased to find that I do still like it. Nonetheless, I made quite a few changes - mostly stylistic. I cannot help but do this. A writer has two choices (both valid): 1) leave an artifact to show who she was at the time Story X was written, or 2) try to make Story X a better story, utilizing skills she's honed over the years. I'm a sucker for - nay, a slave to - option number two, which means you'll rarely find identical versions of my stories in different publications. It's not cost effective, to say the least, but it's what I do. I revise (this is very different from rewriting; I pretty much never rewrite).
Today, I have an interview waiting that has to be done by Monday. I have to proofread "Goggles (c. 1910)" and get it to the book's editor (another anthology TBA). I have to get started two weeks ago on Sirenia Digest #76. At least I have MS Word once more, thanks to the very fucking bow-tie Dr. corucia, which means I can get back to business as usual, and Pages can go hang. Oh, and did anyone actually ever read #75? I don't believe I've seen a single comment to that effect?
Okay. That's all I have time for now, kittens. Except, more than two-hundred people have offered their condolences over Sméagol's death (here and at Facebook), and I thank you all for that. It has helped a little. This same week, Peter Straub's long-lived and long-loved cat Hector died. I might first have met Hector in May 2001, but it might have been earlier. I can't recall. What are the odds of both Readercon 23's guests of honor having cats die on the same bloody week?
Did I mention the rain and the cold?
Slumping,
Aunt Beast
If you've not read this article - "White Until Proven Black: Imagining Race in The Hunger Games," by Anna Holmes - over at the New Yorker website, then you ought stop reading this silly and, ultimately, inconsequential blog entry and do so now.
---
The weather is rainy and cold here in Providence. Cold spring. I am buried in work yammering for my attention, but the rain and the cold only make me want to sleep.
---
Yesterday, Rachel Edidin - my editor at Dark Horse - tweeted a link to this photograph:
She's at Seattle's Emerald City Comicon this weekend. And there's Dancy. BIG. And it sort of freaks me out, in a good way, seeing this. And having said that....
The first issue of Alabaster: Wolves will be released on April 11th (!!!!). And I cannot say this too emphatically: the success of this project depends entirely on sales. Yeah, I know. Stating the obvious, right? I don't care. This book means a lot to me, and I want to see it succeed, and numbers from the first issues are going to be EXTREMELY important. If there's not a comics shop near you, you can order online. If you don't want to buy paper-and-ink comics, Dark Horse has the digital option (at this very moment, you can read a preview of #1 at the website). You can order from the website now, and you'll get the comic on the 11th. If you can afford more than a single copy, give a few to your friends. Leave them on park benches and subway seats. Just please, please, please be sure to pick up a copy (one way or another), and thank you.
---
Yesterday, Kathryn and I read over "Nor the Demons Down Under the Sea (1957)," which an editor has asked to reprinted in a forthcoming anthology of Lovecraftian fiction (TBA). I wrote it in July and August of 2000, and I honestly had no idea how I'd feel about it after so many years. I was pleased to find that I do still like it. Nonetheless, I made quite a few changes - mostly stylistic. I cannot help but do this. A writer has two choices (both valid): 1) leave an artifact to show who she was at the time Story X was written, or 2) try to make Story X a better story, utilizing skills she's honed over the years. I'm a sucker for - nay, a slave to - option number two, which means you'll rarely find identical versions of my stories in different publications. It's not cost effective, to say the least, but it's what I do. I revise (this is very different from rewriting; I pretty much never rewrite).
Today, I have an interview waiting that has to be done by Monday. I have to proofread "Goggles (c. 1910)" and get it to the book's editor (another anthology TBA). I have to get started two weeks ago on Sirenia Digest #76. At least I have MS Word once more, thanks to the very fucking bow-tie Dr. corucia, which means I can get back to business as usual, and Pages can go hang. Oh, and did anyone actually ever read #75? I don't believe I've seen a single comment to that effect?
Okay. That's all I have time for now, kittens. Except, more than two-hundred people have offered their condolences over Sméagol's death (here and at Facebook), and I thank you all for that. It has helped a little. This same week, Peter Straub's long-lived and long-loved cat Hector died. I might first have met Hector in May 2001, but it might have been earlier. I can't recall. What are the odds of both Readercon 23's guests of honor having cats die on the same bloody week?
Did I mention the rain and the cold?
Slumping,
Aunt Beast