Wednesday, March 12, 2003
Another joyful day on Earth. The Serbian Prime Minister assassinated. Bush may only be a vote away from getting his shiny new war, complete with UN approval. The U.S. has detonated "the mother of all bombs" at the Eglin Airforce Base. Sometimes I dream of the world on fire. Sometimes I'm pretty sure we have it coming.
And I have a headache that could put down a small elephant.
This morning I had to get a bunch of stuff together for the programming people at Dragon*Con. And sign the contracts for Stephen Jones, for the reprint rights to "Nor the Demons Down Under the Sea." And put together an rtf of Low Red Moon and send it off to Bill Schafer at Subterranean Press. This afternoon, well, lots more to do, and none of it simply writing. I'm stuck in one of those periods where it seems that there's so much to the business of writing, that there's no time left over to actually write. I should have Chapter Five of Murder of Angels done by now, and I've not yet begun Chapter Four.
Thanks to Fredrik Rostlund of Sweden for sending me not one, but two, Finnish euphemisms for masturbation - "...RUNKATA or the more clinical MASTURBOIDA." I asked for it. Oh, and if you've sent me an e-mail and I haven't at least sent a polite thank you, I apologize. I usually respond to everyone, but I've gotten behind.
Here's a peek at the cover of The Five of Cups, with cover art by Rick Lieder. Subterranean Press is now taking orders.
No witty end to things today. I think my brain is leaking out my left eye.
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