Wednesday, April 14, 2004
The weather is vile. A late blast of winter, grey skies and strong winds, highs in the fifties, following some nice thunderstorms. A month ago, before the trees were green again, this would have sent my mood into a tailspin. But the green goes a long, long way. It doesn't look cold outside, and I haven't left the apartment since the nastiness began, so all's well. Besides, the good news is we'll be back in the seventies tomorrow.
Spooky and I didn't go to see Raspustina at The Earle last night. The weather was just too icky, she had a headache, and we were both tired and didn't feel up to dealing with the cigarette smoke. Oh, for smoke-free clubs.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,192 words and finished "The Daughter of the Four of Pentacles." Depending on whether or not you count The Dry Salvages as a short story, this makes either #60 or #61. Probably we ought to consider The Dry Salvages as my one true novella, since it is 30,000+-words long. Which means "The Daughter of the Four of Pentacles" is short story #60, which, I suppose, is momentous, in some sense. I'm fairly pleased with this story. I halfway suspect that it will be received as my most important piece since "Onion." Then again, what do I know? I was never that impressed with "Onion." It just never seemed right to me. Which is not to say I don't appreciate the attention it received. I do. Oh, just shut up, Caitlín!
So, now I have to proofread both the stories for Thrillers 2 and get them off to the editor. Then I'll probably deal with the proposal for the next novel (the one that comes after MoA), before writing my story for the subculture anthology. And with luck, I can squeeze both those things into what I have left of April, keeping in mind that I have to be out of town for a couple of days for the Alabama Bound book fair.
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Hey, I think the sun's trying to come out...