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Entry tags:
Thud: Above, More Novels I Don't Need
March 19, 2008 Progress Notes:
Above
Words today: 500.
Words total: 27,200 MS Word.
Reason for stopping: It's 3am and I'm crawling here.
Liquid Refreshment: Water.
Munchies: I am the snacking machine today. I am a hunter/gatherer (typo: hunger/gatherer). I grazed on all which fell within my sight.
Darling du Jour: I lean back a moment. Tilt my head up to the sky with my eyes squinched closed and let the fire sear through my eyelids, burn the shadows away. "You did the right thing," I say, soft soft.
(Poor Matthew. You're getting tired, aren't you?)
Words Matthew Won't Admit to Knowing: He actually admitted to a vocabulary tonight.
Mean Things: The utter banality of codependent passive-aggression.
Research Roundup: Care of catatonic patients. That's for later.
Books in progress: Michelle West, The Broken Crown; textbooks.
The glamour: Some work on my History of Medicine paper, wherein we chart the change from a Galenic and nongendered body model to a concept of biological sex. Not enough work on it.
Dear Brain:
Thank you for yet another novel idea. It is probably promising that you have started to leave these on my pillow at night, like dead mice and/or dog treats. However, I fear I must suspect you of attempting to entice me with this, away from All Work I'm Supposed To Be Doing Ever. Please leave at the same prearranged drop point: either a basic idea of plot or characters, or at least something besides the title, the physical texture of the tone (heavy; damp; swamplands just past sunset) and one thought about the preoccupations of Gothic novels that I know means I'm onto something here. When this ransom is received, I will write some notes in a nice little file and put it in the queue.
Behind the four other novels I've started since I finished one and the two that need rewriting to sell.
And yes, I will get you more dried mango tomorrow.
Love,
Leah
(It's called Saturnalia. I have the feel of it in my hand. But...not tonight.)
Above
Words today: 500.
Words total: 27,200 MS Word.
Reason for stopping: It's 3am and I'm crawling here.
Liquid Refreshment: Water.
Munchies: I am the snacking machine today. I am a hunter/gatherer (typo: hunger/gatherer). I grazed on all which fell within my sight.
Darling du Jour: I lean back a moment. Tilt my head up to the sky with my eyes squinched closed and let the fire sear through my eyelids, burn the shadows away. "You did the right thing," I say, soft soft.
(Poor Matthew. You're getting tired, aren't you?)
Words Matthew Won't Admit to Knowing: He actually admitted to a vocabulary tonight.
Mean Things: The utter banality of codependent passive-aggression.
Research Roundup: Care of catatonic patients. That's for later.
Books in progress: Michelle West, The Broken Crown; textbooks.
The glamour: Some work on my History of Medicine paper, wherein we chart the change from a Galenic and nongendered body model to a concept of biological sex. Not enough work on it.
Dear Brain:
Thank you for yet another novel idea. It is probably promising that you have started to leave these on my pillow at night, like dead mice and/or dog treats. However, I fear I must suspect you of attempting to entice me with this, away from All Work I'm Supposed To Be Doing Ever. Please leave at the same prearranged drop point: either a basic idea of plot or characters, or at least something besides the title, the physical texture of the tone (heavy; damp; swamplands just past sunset) and one thought about the preoccupations of Gothic novels that I know means I'm onto something here. When this ransom is received, I will write some notes in a nice little file and put it in the queue.
Behind the four other novels I've started since I finished one and the two that need rewriting to sell.
And yes, I will get you more dried mango tomorrow.
Love,
Leah
(It's called Saturnalia. I have the feel of it in my hand. But...not tonight.)
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