A cloudy day has become a rainy night. Currently, it's 50˚F.

I woke to the headache, but it's better this evening.

Today, I sent a bunch of stories over to Bill Schafer at Subterranean Press, and Spooky and I hauled to big boxes of signature sheets to the P.O. - one set for Centipede Press' forthcoming edition of The Haunting of Hill House and ( Read more... )

I'm not exactly awake. I haven't been sleeping well, between nightmares and waking too frequently. But I think the reading last night took a bit out of me. I have grown unaccustomed to such things. Anyway, it's currently 37˚F here in Providence, but next week we're looking at highs in the 50˚s F. Thank you, El Niño. This is weird weather, but I'm ( Read more... )

I think I have a "classical-punk-jazz-car-wreck music" hangover, and I didn't even have any alcohol last night. In fact, I'm pretty sure there's a large enantiornithine lodged in my windpipe. I keep coughing up feathers.

Maybe they're only protofeathers.

But at least I'm not trapped at the human tar pit of the San Diego ComicCon. Thank holy fuck ( Read more... )

I've just gotten word that The Red Tree T-shirts are now available from Ziraxia, the same alien horde that's already brought you Stiff Kitten T-shirts. Here's the final design (by Spooky and scarletboi!):


( Read more... )

Yesterday, I did 1,144 words on Chapter Three of The Red Tree. It took as long as it might have taken, normally, for me to write twice that number, because most of what I was writing was a long excerpt from the unfinished ms. of the dead anthropologist, so there was not only The Other Voice (as opposed to Sarah Crowe's, which dominates the novel) ( Read more... )

Generally speaking, the icon I choose to use with a given entry says something about the entry itself, just as the subject lines are very rarely arbitrary. I've been sitting here staring at today's icon, wondering what the hell it has to do with what I'm about to say or where I am right now. And I think, perhaps, it's an inverse relationship, and I ( Read more... )

Listening to the new Dresden Dolls disc this morning, No, Virginia, an early birthday present yesterday from Spooky. I'm liking it quite a bit more than Yes, Virginia (2006), though I did like Yes, Virginia. Meanwhile, here in La Casa de Kiernan y Pollnac, all is chaos. Well, a very ordered sort of chaos. There are hundreds of boxes, I think. We ( Read more... )

Here's my thing, as Laura Means would say. I fled Birmingham five and a half years ago. Being who and what I am, life in Birmingham had proven, after many, many years there, intolerable. Though, at the time I'd hoped to move to New England, financial considerations kept me from getting any farther away than Atlanta. And here we have been, Spooky ( Read more... )

Skip a day, and I find that I have too much for a single entry. But I'll start here, because I must start somewhere: I have been invited to speak at the Rose O'Neill Literary House at Washington College in Chesterton, Maryland. This pleases me enormously, and I am making an exception to my rule about making no more public appearances. I do not have ( Read more... )

Yesterday, I wrote 1,210 words on "The Bed of Appetite," a new story for Sirenia Digest #23. Which was a great fucking relief after all those days of not writing anything much at all. And it occurred to me that while it's entirely unremarkable that I've had difficulty writing the last few months - in the wake of the long nightmare of the Beowulf ( Read more... )