Back in September, thereabouts, there was a day when I finally sat down with Kathryn, and we talked, and I made the decision that I would never write a another novel. We worked out a remotely feasible way to bring in enough money with me only doing short fiction, novellas, and
Sirenia Digest. It was a for-sure thing. There was a profound sense of
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p.s. how do you get such beautiful nails? i try and try but mine are still crap.
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p.s. how do you get such beautiful nails?
Those are Spooky's. Mine are pretty crappy.
It might never have come out if you hadn't absolutely 100% decided to stop writing novels.
We call this irony.
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I've inherited my father's insanely thick and strong nails. They really only ever break if I let them get too long. Also, if I let them grow too long, my fingers begin to ache.
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And I love The Thing.
I honestly think I've seen it more times than anyone else on earth. We're talking hundreds of viewings.
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Congratulations on finishing the novel.
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So are both the survivors human? Or do you have a different idea with each viewing? Or does it matter?
I say it's like much of the conclusion of The Red Tree. The answer simply can't be answered, and probably was not intended, by the filmmakers, to be answered.
However, thinking as a biologist, anything that perfect, that virulent, whether either men are "things," it will escape some other way, sooner or later. As Carpenter said of the opening scene, as the Norwegians chase the dog, "It's already the end of the world."
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I also love the "Day in the Life" type photos.
I like doing them.
I think one of those envelopes is for me. The birthday poem.
Yep.
Thanks to you and Spooky, I have Riftitis. However, I do not wish to be cured. If you still want to transfer your WoW guild to me, then we'll have to set something up in the future. Thing is, I haven't even logged on to WoW since Rift.
We'll work all this out.
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if that's the right word to offer at THE END of such a process as this
It's not (which the novel addresses), but it's the one we use.
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And by "we" I mean you.
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Thank you.
Fuck, I miss Mal.
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