Cloudy, rainy, chilly, ugly here in Providence. Summer is dead.
From the realm of the unexpected and vaguely surreal, my editor sent me a blurb yesterday for
Blood Oranges. The blurb is from
Amber Benson. Yes, the actress who played Tara on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Anyway, here's the blurb: In the conjuring of Blood Oranges, Caitlin R. Kiernan has created a pedal to the metal, balls to the wall female antihero who doesn't give a damn if you like her or not...which totally made me love her.
Thank you, Amber. I owe you.
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The daily hue and cry. Please, please if you have not yet preordered the forthcoming hardback
Alabaster: Wolves, please do so.* The preorders from October matter the most. They have an enormous impact on how this title will develop at Dark Horse. Thank you. Very much. Truthfully, this book needs a "street crew." If you loved Alabaster: Wolves, feel free to take up the banner. Oh, and these preorders are, for the moment, FAR more important, my career wise, than those for
Blood Oranges.
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Yesterday, I wrote 1,562 words on Chapter Five of Fay Grimmer. I reached Page 200. But also I realized, yesterday morning, what I'd written on Monday posed a seemingly insoluble problem. I had the answer to the riddle on which the entire book hinges. But you can't give readers the Big Reveal two thirds of the way through the story, can you? So, an emergency plotting session devised a work around, and changed the story, and now, I think, it will work. This is why I do not write synopses. I can't possibly see the path the story will take beforehand. Oh, but some say, "If you wrote an outline, you wouldn't get these nasty surprises." Maybe not. But I also would have absolutely zero interest in writing the novel, because I'd know "what's going to happen." Think about it.
Resurrected,
Living in a lighthouse.
Can you see the funny side?
The ships are gonna wreck.
Resurrected,
Living in a lighthouse.
The lions and the lambs ain't sleeping yet. ~
Arcade Fire Meanwhile, Spooky finishes up the taxes and deals with unexpected car trouble (the brakes and a damaged oil pan). Whee. At least I have my pills and tequila.
Please comment. Keep me company.
Exhausted,
Aunt Beast
* Postscript (2:51 p.m.): We've dropped out of the Top Twenty Dark Horse titles. And so it fucking goes.