For some reason I kept thinking I'd just posted here a short time again. Ah well. This is what happens when you get old.
The novella is coming along slowly, but I'm enjoying writing it. Next week I'll post a paragraph or two (non-explicit, of course), when I have a better idea of what the good bits are. Right now, because it's all new, I of course get that fuzzy rose-tinted glow whenever I open up the Word file and start reading through the previous nights work. I give it until this weekend to get to the "OMG I wrote that crap?" stage.
I've also started a story for the "Holy Horrors" anthology. I generally don't seek out anthologies to submit to, unless I happen to already have a story idea that I think would be original enough to stand up to all the other submissions. I'd heard about this particular antho a while back, but it didn't strike me as anything interesting. But a couple of weeks ago, a conversation on livejournal gave me an idea that I thought would not only be original enough, but short enough (as in, under 5k words, instead of my usual 7-10k word length) for submission. So I'm about 600 words in on a story that combines a few unpleasant memories of being schooled in Lutheran churches with a specific horror setting that's always fascinated and scared the bejebus out of me. However, I may chuck those 600 words and start again - I have the idea and the characters and the plot, but I'm missing the right tone and style. The title is "Mysterious Tremendum" - I think that's a good indicator (for myself, at any rate) of where I need to go with the style, which would be little more ornate and poetic than usual. However, that means I need to keep it short. I want this at about 2500 words. Anything more than that, and it becomes a force-feeding instead of a story.
I'm also reading up on the history of Tacoma. Dayam. We were rough motherfuckers right from the start. For the record, I was born in Anchorage, Alaska, but my father has been a Tacoman from birth, as was his father and mother. Lots of Llewellyns in the cemeteries - no doubt just as cranky and potty-mouthed in the coffin as they were in real life. Not that I'm anything like that....
motherfucker!
The novella is coming along slowly, but I'm enjoying writing it. Next week I'll post a paragraph or two (non-explicit, of course), when I have a better idea of what the good bits are. Right now, because it's all new, I of course get that fuzzy rose-tinted glow whenever I open up the Word file and start reading through the previous nights work. I give it until this weekend to get to the "OMG I wrote that crap?" stage.
I've also started a story for the "Holy Horrors" anthology. I generally don't seek out anthologies to submit to, unless I happen to already have a story idea that I think would be original enough to stand up to all the other submissions. I'd heard about this particular antho a while back, but it didn't strike me as anything interesting. But a couple of weeks ago, a conversation on livejournal gave me an idea that I thought would not only be original enough, but short enough (as in, under 5k words, instead of my usual 7-10k word length) for submission. So I'm about 600 words in on a story that combines a few unpleasant memories of being schooled in Lutheran churches with a specific horror setting that's always fascinated and scared the bejebus out of me. However, I may chuck those 600 words and start again - I have the idea and the characters and the plot, but I'm missing the right tone and style. The title is "Mysterious Tremendum" - I think that's a good indicator (for myself, at any rate) of where I need to go with the style, which would be little more ornate and poetic than usual. However, that means I need to keep it short. I want this at about 2500 words. Anything more than that, and it becomes a force-feeding instead of a story.
I'm also reading up on the history of Tacoma. Dayam. We were rough motherfuckers right from the start. For the record, I was born in Anchorage, Alaska, but my father has been a Tacoman from birth, as was his father and mother. Lots of Llewellyns in the cemeteries - no doubt just as cranky and potty-mouthed in the coffin as they were in real life. Not that I'm anything like that....
motherfucker!
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