Spent yesterday working on the renovation project, which turned out to be a very long day in very, very hot weather. Luckily, the entire yard and attached forest is extremely shady - otherwise, we just wouldn't be able to work 8+ hours in 100+ heat. Even with the shade, however, we still have to take frequent breaks and down gallons of water and Gatorade. It's slow going. Still, progress was made.
At this point we have pretty much given up on the house. Everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, is falling apart on it. It wasn't well-built when it was constructed in 1973, and now, 30 some-odd years later, it is well and truly falling down. The floors, roof, electrical, plumbing - you name it, it has to be replaced. So, for the time being, we've just put the house on the back burner. It was my childhood home, the only house I remember growing up in, and so it makes me sad to think that we'll have to tear it down, but that's what it's starting to look like. Getting it back into shape would mean basically tearing it down to the studs at this point, and for that kind of money, we could rebuild something that more accurately fits our needs, and reflects our style. Therefore, in typical fashion, I'm just leaving it for now.
Instead, we're focusing now on the 10 acres of lawn, gardens, and forest. The current stage is clean-up and demolition, the latter encompassing about 400 miles of rusting, rotting fencing. Yesterday we took down part of the back fence, and the entire creosote fence across the front of the property. It was hot, sweaty work, but for once I was glad for the lack of rain. It meant the ditches we had to work in to get at the fence posts were dry and snake-free. This is a very, very good thing. I also managed to do a bit of pruning, and my sister Laura cleaned the pine straw and muck from the top of her little house. The LOML, meanwhile, got to operate a chainsaw for the first time, and took out two dying trees (one dogwood, one pear). It was a good day.
At the end of the day we were all tired, but happy. We got stuff done, stuff we can see and measure. Each time we go it looks a little bit better. Photos with the next post.
Burnin' Down the House
Some Results
So I've been going on all spring and summer about the renovation project we've been working on at my mother's home in the wilds of western Louisiana, promising all the while to post pictures when I have them. Problem is, at the end of the day we are normally so dead-dog tired that I either forget to take any photos, or forget to upload them when I get home. Finally, though, I've managed to get a few off my camera to share.
I had the foresight to take some "before" pictures just before we started work in late March. Unfortunately, instead of planning my pictures around future projects, I just walked around randomly shooting things. Therefore, some of the after pictures correspond to before shots, and some don't. Still, it's amazing, even though we are still so early into the project, how much impact our hard work has had. It looks totally different, and that makes it very much worthwhile.
I'll also post these on my Facebook profile, if anyone is interested...
Front of House Before
Front of House After
Front Bed #1 Before
Front Bed #1 After
Front Bed #2 Before
Front Bed #2 After
Front of House After
Front Bed #1 Before
Front Bed #1 After
Front Bed #2 Before
Front Bed #2 AfterAs you can see, we've mostly limited our work to outside the house for the moment, cleaning and replanting my mother's flower beds, gardens, and removing 40 years worth of pack-rattery and just plain stuff that has accumulated. It's hot, dirty work - but it more than makes up for it with sheer psychological impact. We are watching the landscape literally transform before our eyes, and whenever I feel like we are spinning our wheels, so to speak, all I have to do is go back and look at these photos again to see the difference our work has made.
26 June 2009
No title today. I don't feel like it. Damnit, why should I always have to put a title on these things? This is supposed to be a journal, where I write whatever I want. I'm tired of reading advice posted here and there about using blogs as a self-promotion tool for writers, especially those breaking into the business. But how can readers get a feel for who I am and where my stories come from if I'm consciously constructing posts that ring false, even to my own ears?
I guess it's obvious that I'm in a bad mood today. Impatient. Easily irritated. I hate chaos and confusion. I prefer to write when I am calm, in my own space, curled up in the dark in my bedroom or office. I hate the days when I spend the whole thing chasing after time to sit down and catch my breath. Today has been like that.
Related to paragraph one up there, I haven't twittered all weekend. I haven't posted to Facebook. Instead of slogging through hundreds of unread posts in Google Reader, I just deleted them all this morning. Honestly, I don't know how people do it. How do you post, and comment, and answer, and post some more, all while writing and living anything resembling a normal life? I think I need to step back somewhat, and take a breath. It's all becoming overwhelming.
Despite the fact that I've gone against instinct and put myself out into the public with a web page, twitter account, facebook, myspace, blah, blah, blah, I'm aware that I don't have many readers. I'm mostly speaking into the ether, and most of the time all I hear are my own words echoed back from the blackness. That's ok. I'm going to stop worrying about how much I post here, or there, or whatever. If I have something to say, I'll say it. Otherwise, I write. I'm not doing this for the money, or any potential fame. I write because it's what I do. Period.
I don't need another reason, another outlet, another "connection". I just need me.
15 June 2009
Review: The Strain by Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan
I have to be honest – I initially picked up The Strain because of Guillermo del Toro’s name plastered across the front – “From the Creator of the Oscar-Winning Pan’s Labyrinth!” I’m a big fan of del Toro’s, and in fact I loved Pan’s Labyrinth as well as his more recent Hellboy 2. He brings a surreal vision, a dark fairy tale-like quality to his projects that I admire. From a writer’s perspective, however, I have to say I feel for Chuck Hogan, overshadowed as he most certainly is by his co-author’s celebrity. In any case, I’m a long-time fan of vampire fiction and mythology as well, so I figured it was worth a read.
The book is the first in a trilogy about an old world vampire who hitches a ride aboard a passenger jet from Germany to JFK in order to make lots of baby vampires and take over the world. Vampirism itself is treated as a disease (hence the title), and many of the old tropes about garlic and crosses are abandoned. On the opposing side, trying to save humanity, are CDC specialist Ephraim Goodweather, his assistant Nora, and, presumably in a nod to Stoker, Abraham Setrakian, an aged vampire hunter who survived the Treblinka death camp in World War II and has spent his life studying and preparing for this conflict.
I really liked the fact that this is truly a horror story – no handsome, moody, teenaged vampires here. I was actually really creeped out reading this thing in the middle of the night. These vampires are evil, and they’re scary, and they’re everywhere, hiding in suburban basements and subway tunnels, just waiting to jump out of the darkness and make a snack of anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. The authors are spot-on when it comes to keeping the action level just right and sustaining the fear factor, building to the ultimate showdown with the master vampire himself. It reads like a good fright-fest movie, and I say that as a compliment.
This, however, is the flip-side of what I didn’t like about the book. It was originally pitched as a script for a television series to Fox, and that’s exactly what it reads like. As I read it I couldn’t help but feel like I was reading a movie novelization. The characters, their dialogue, the settings, everything feels a bit contrived, as if I were reading the proposal for a movie. In the end, though, the good storytelling kept me interested, and that, on the most fundamental level, is what makes or breaks a book.
The Strain will never be considered among the canon of great American literature. It is what it is – a rollercoaster ride, a well-written horror movie, a summer fling. It’s fun to let go now and then, and give yourself over to an experience without having to think much. Bottom line – it’s a page-turner, and I liked it. Three stars.
11 June 2009
In This Kingdom by the Sea
"Becoming" is tearing my heart and soul to bits with red-hot tongs. Some stories come pouring out like blood onto the paper; some stories require more thinking and planning to be born; and some...some have to be pulled, kicking and screaming, fighting all the way. This is definitely one of those.
Every day I sit down, and stare at it. Then I go off on some tangent, checking email or twitter, or some such nonsense. Eventually I chide myself for procrastinating and get back to it, reading through and making corrections as I go (I'm an in-process reviser girl). Then I get to the end, and the blank space stares at me like the view from the gang plank, and slowly, tentatively, I start walking. Every sentence goes down at a cost. It's taking me forever to write, and I suspect it will take just as long (or longer, if I put it away to percolate for a while) to revise. Still, it's coming. Slowly, damnit, but it's coming.
Some good news today. The folks at The Absent Willow Review let me know that "The Last Fairy Tale" has been chosen to be included in their first-ever anthology, to be released at the end of this year. I'm absolutely thrilled. I love this story, and I loved the experience of writing it (on vacation in the middle of a beautiful forest). So, I'm happy for the news.
The LOML is still away, though, which tempers things. Hard to be apart from him for any length of time. We are very, very close. He is my best friend and confidante, the driving force behind my decision to be a writer, my cheerleader and my other half. I hope he is able to come home soon.
03 June 2009
Dog Days
Not much writing accomplished in the last few days. Friday I was coming home from a dentist's appointment for my son when I heard a progressively loud sound and felt my car tilting to one side. I was close to home, so I managed to hobble in on the flat without damaging my rim, which was good. Since the other three tires were nearing the end of their life spans, I decided to get them all changed, and so the rest of the day was devoted to getting that done. Saturday was an all-day visit to New Orleans to see my in-laws and do a little sight seeing, and Sunday I woke up in pain, which turned out to be a nasty UTI, which meant a doctor's visit followed by a pharmacy trip. I also had to bring the LOML to the airport, as he has a business trip to the UK this week.
Jeez. It's exhausting just talking about it.
I'm not terribly optimistic about today, either, as there is a pool to clean, a lawn to mow, and my favorite aunt who is home for only a couple of days which will require a visit. Tomorrow, though. Ah, tomorrow and tomorrow...
The good news is, I finally know where "Becoming" is going, and I left myself breadcrumbs so that when I can sit down again, I'll already be on the road. The novel, too, is progressing nicely, though I wish I could come up with a title. Summer is always a blessing/curse kind of thing, as the obligations that go along with two kids in school (homework, structured bedtimes and early risings) are gone, but in their place are kids who need to be supervised. I love having them home, but it makes searching for time to write a little more interesting. Taking care of the pool will help - they spend hours entertained and I can sit in the window and get things done.
Like I should be doing now.
01 June 2009
Here, But Not Quite
I knew this week I wouldn't get much done, what with end-of-the-school-year parties, award ceremonies, etc, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with psychologically. When I can't write I feel that constant pull in my subconscious, something akin to a mixture of hooky-guilt and an addiction. It's a constant longing that is only fulfilled by time spent pecking away, digging through my imagination.
Yesterday was fun. No, not really. I brought my car to a mechanic because the a/c is blowing hot air when I am idling at red lights, etc., and he announces that not only will it be $700 to fix that little problem, but that my brake pads are 90% worn and my rotors are warped, setting me back another $350. My nephew told me that the brake thing is much cheaper if you do it yourself, but I really don't relish the idea of driving off the side of a cliff somewhere because I managed to put my brakes back together wrong. So, around $1000 to make everything right, a huge blow to the budget. Can't be put off either, because turns out the a/c thing was due to the engine cooling fan crapping out, a situation which, if not remedied, could lead to engine overheating and the aluminum engine heads warping. Not good.
I did get a little writing done whilst sitting in a coffee shop waiting for the great news. Got about a thousand words on a new story, "Ghost in the Machine", which, unfortunately, I think I'll end up scrapping, because it just sucks. (Did that last sentence really need all those commas?) I want to go in another direction with it. Also got some work done on the novel, as I've changed my mind about the age of one of the major characters, so I had to go back and insert the relevant details in his scenes.
All in all it was kind of a blah day. Today will be better, as I'm heading out to see my little boy perform on stage and get his school awards. Have to pick up some chlorine for the kids' pool. Then home. To write. And get my fix.
20 May 2009
What I Want to be When I Grow Up...
With thanks to The Wonder Cabinet:
From Frederik Pohl's memoir, THE WAY THE FUTURE WAS:
"The times when a writer isn't writing are called "writer's slump." Everybody has it, at least now and then. Nobody, or nobody I know, is wholly successful at dealing with it. I don't know how to deal with it any more than anyone else, but what I do know is a way to postpone its happening, pretty well, most of the time, in a fashion that works, more or less, for me. What I do is set myself a daily quota of four pages. No more, no less; and I write those pages every day, no matter where I am, no matter how long it takes, if I die for it. Sometimes it takes forty-five minutes. Sometimes it takes eighteen hours. Sometimes I am reasonably satisfied with the words that go onto the paper, and quite a lot of the time I loathe them.
"but I DO them. If I miss, if I skip ONE DAY, the rhythm of the stride is broken and the shattered edifice of my life tumbles down on my head. So I do it every day, which means every day there is, including Saturdays, Sundays, Christmas, my birthday, the day I'm going to the dentisty to find out if I'm going to need a root-canal job, the day I fly to London, the day I am so badly hung over that my eyelashes bleed. I do my quota in airports, on boardwalk benches, and in commuter trains. I have been known to take my typewriter along on a weekend date. "Every day" means "every day,"and this is the first rule of writing for me."
12 May 2009
Review: The Indifferent Stars Above by Daniel James Brown
The Donner Party incident has, over the century and a half since it was first publicized, become a part of the shared American history mythos. Unfortunately, it has also suffered from its notoriety – reduced to a sad tale at best and a punch line at worst. Like most people, I knew almost nothing of the tragedy itself when I picked up this book. I only knew the barest of facts – a group of wagon trainers caught in the high Sierra Nevada Mountains during brutal winter conditions who resorted to cannibalism to survive. As with all well-known historical episodes, however, there was, and is, much more to the story.
Instead of trying to focus on as many party members as possible, Daniel James Brown instead centers his narrative of the tragedy around one survivor, newlywed Sarah Graves Fosdick, who was only 21 when she set out with her husband and family on the journey. Through Sarah’s eyes, Brown is able to then illuminate the other victims much as another human being would, instead of relegating them to a catalog of facts.
The best history books transform their subjects from unknowable objects into what history truly is about – real people who dealt with monumental circumstances. Brown’s writing is superb, not only for having achieved this goal but for the way he brings us into what it meant to be alive in 1846. His research encompasses not only the Donner Party itself, but the social and economic forces which spurred the great American migration westward, along with practical and relevant knowledge about everyday life in the middle of the nineteenth century. All of these factors played a part in the choices these people made, and how those choices ultimately spelled their doom.
Daniel James Brown has written a seminal work on the history of the Donner Party incident. Anyone interested in this tragic, wholly American story would do well to read it.
11 May 2009
Back for a Bit
It's that time of year - May. This has become for me a month filled with end-of-school-year programs, award ceremonies, field trips, etc., etc. Yesterday was all day at a field trip out of town with my daughter, this morning was a P.E. program for my son, and Friday is another field trip with him. Yeah, I know I could miss them and stay home to work. But how many more years do I have? Not many. When they were born I made a vow to myself to not miss a thing, and it has been worth every bleary-eyed, WAY too early morning rise. Still, a girl's gotta have a right to whine now and again.
On a totally unrelated note, I have a little happiness to announce: The Absent Willow Review chose my story, "The Last Fairy Tale", as their Editor's Choice Award winner for the month of April. I was thrilled, to say the least. It's a really big deal for a new writer to have someone say, 'hey, not bad work.' Getting little things like this takes the sting out of the rejection pile, makes it feel worthwhile to keep going.
Miscellaneous catching-up to do today, paying bills, answering email, etc. Then novel work. Tomorrow I'll be out again, visiting my best friend in Slidell who had surgery on Monday. Thursday I'll be back, but out again for Friday, and possibly through the weekend. (Hey, it's Mother's Day weekend. I deserve it.)
05 May 2009
Such Stuff as Dreams Are Made On
Most writers will tell you that, by the very nature of the work, they are solitary creatures. Writing is a lonely business, and you have to be comfortable spending many hours inside your own head, rattling around like a ghost in an attic. It can be unnerving at times, hard to face head-on what's in there. Your memories and experiences define you as a human being and an artist, but constantly re-examining all of that shit is not easy.
Sometimes I worry that I'm slipping away from the things that should matter to me. I get so wrapped up in self-examination that I forget about the world around me. My family helps; when they come home at the end of the day they force me back into reality, force me to wake up and blink in the sunlight. That's a good thing. I think that if I lived alone I'd end up one of those crazy recluse artists whom no one appreciates until they're dead because they're loony as a tune.
It's who I am, though. I don't believe I could define myself without that part. Otherwise, I'm only the collection of things and impressions that people on the outside see. I'm a friend, a lover, a mom, a neighbor. But none of those things feel real to me. The writer, the introspect, the crazy cat lady living inside my head - that's who I am to ME. In some ways it's frightening; in others, it's incredibly comforting. Walking that line is where the art happens.
Yesterday I finished a new flash piece, "Invicta", and sent it off to be judged and hopefully not found wanting. If it doesn't sell I may post it on the website as a freebie, just because it's short, easy, and I really like it. I also got through notes and outlines of three stories, two of which could actually turn out to be book ideas. A good day, all in all, despite the unsettling notions sliding around in my head.
I've been tired lately, bone tired. All I've wanted to do for several days is sleep. I suspect it has something to do with a medication change this week, and I'm almost to the point of saying fuck it to the whole thing. I'll give it a few more days to work itself out first. I'm going to the farmstead tomorrow to work on the giant renovation project, then back here Sunday for a day off. I may or may not post, though my money is on next week.
Until then I sleep, and I dream...
24 April 2009
You Say That I Should Care
Finally back at home after a week or so of driving two hours nearly every day to the farmstead, working six or so hours, followed by another two hours home. It's been tough, but very gratifying, to see the place slowly creep back into shape. We have cleaned and replanted several of the front flower beds, raked and burned literally acres of leaves and pine straw, and started the LONG and arduous task of renovating the main house, which we hope to turn into a quasi-retreat. It's been bittersweet but nice to come home. For the first time in my life I feel I have ownership there, and that makes the place seem even more special. It truly is a beautiful piece of land, 10 acres smack dab in the middle of nowhere. A wonderful place for my kids to be kids in the old-fashioned sense, skinned knees, toads and all. A wonderful place to sit, listen to the wind in the trees, and just bask in the quiet. Will post pictures soon.
Today is for catching up on answering mail, paying bills, and writing. I need to finish the revisions on The Graveyard Road and send it out into the wild, something I should have done last week. When that is done I'm going to buckle down and finish the first draft of this novel. It must, nay will, be done by the end of the year. "Or else, what?" the cat asks.
Hell if I know.
17 April 2009
Our Souls Are a Myriad of Wars
The last couple of days have been full of revisions and revisions of "The Graveyard Road", and now, frankly, I'm sick of it. I've read the story so many times that it's become meaningless, like when you say the same word over and over again. I can't make sense of it anymore; can't judge where I am or what I've created at all. So, I've put it to bed, sent it off nice and cozy to the SFF Online Writing Workshop. A few fresh eyes will help tremendously. Hopefully, I'll be able to send it out into the wild again next week.
Tonight the kidlets head off to their Dad's house, and the LOML and I will have a few days together, which is always nice. No R & R, though, as we'll be heading out to the farmstead to work on putting the pieces back together again. It's ten acres out in RURAL Louisiana that belonged to my parents - the place where I grew up. In recent years it's fallen into major disrepair, so we've decided to jump in and restore things. This weekend, the first of many, I'm sure, will be mainly spent just securing the place and starting cleanup. Long term plans involve restoring/expanding the gardens, pond, and houses. It's a HUGE project, and neither of us is sure where it will end up. I'm excited about it though, I have to admit. There is true solitude there, not something to be found very often in our modern, shiny new world. Would be nice to have a place to go to where I can find the quiet again occasionally.
Last night we fired up WOW for the first time on our laptops, playing side by side in bed. We didn't have the advantage of the big monitors in our office, but it was certainly more cozy. We didn't do much, just some housekeeping and item swapping betwixt and between our characters, followed by a single little quest in the wilds of Durotar. Still, it was fun. Hoping to get more playing in over the next few days as the kidlets are on spring break and I won't have to get up at crack-thirty every single morning.
And now, for your viewing enjoyment, one of my favorite a-ha songs. Alas, there was never a true video made, and this version isn't as good as the one on the album, but you can at least get the idea:
09 April 2009
It Will Make My Body Dissolve Out In the Blue
Somewhat of a nonstarter today. Between getting nothing done on the 'tedious minutiae of life' front this weekend (for the uninitiated, that means paying bills, filling out misc forms, the general blah, blah, blah of everyday life), catching up on housework, and leftover exhaustion from yesterday (more on that in a minute), the day was over before it ever got started. This afternoon, normally one of my most productive times, was taken up with kidlet activities.
The exhaustion comes from the fact that on a SUNDAY morning, the LOML and I got up at the crack of dawn and drove 3 hours to do a day of maintenance and yard work on our rental property in Slidell. The LOML replaced the broken doorbell and front porch light, as well as cleaned the gutters and installed guards on them. I, meanwhile, removed a couple of flower beds, dug up umpteen bulbs, flowers, and shrubs, and pruned the navel orange and mayhaw trees. Then we had the joy of packing up all of the plants I uprooted (as a diehard gardener there was NO WAY I was going to let all those perfectly good plants go to waste) and drive another 3 hours back home, followed by unloading said plants, taking care of kidlets, and falling, exhausted, into bed at 10pm. So, as you can imagine, I am sore from head to toe today.
On top of everything else, the weather was dreadful today. Sunny, crystal blue skies (the evil kind - hard and cold like diamond) coupled with howling winds blowing sustained at 25mph with gusts (every two minutes or so) of 35mph or higher. I swear, my vision of Hell is a place where the dust-filled wind blows unceasingly. Tonight a light frost is expected, so I've had to protect all my recently planted warm weather vegetables. Oh, and did I mention the recent plague of flies?
It's all conspired to put me in a foul and unforgiving mood for the evening. As soon as the kidlets are squared away I'm taking a warm shower and sequestering myself in my nice warm bed with my laptop and my writing. Even at its worst, writing is my joy and my release.
06 April 2009
Across a Year and Through a Day
When I was a kid, Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are was one of my favorite books. I never had my own copy, but I obsessively kept it tied up and checked out of the school library, literally, for like, years. It was that kind of book for every weird kid, I guess - every kid who didn't quite fit in here, never really felt at home inside the mendacity of the everyday life of a child. Every kid who felt like, secretly inside them, they could take care of things themselves, that they didn't really need grownups as much as grownups told them they did. It's all about the fearlessness, and audacity, and adventurous spirit of youth. It's about seeing more than is really there, and being right.
When I did grow up, and had kids of my own, it was the first book I made sure they read. I have two children, but I don't have one copy for them to share, or even two. There are copies floating around all over the place here. It's been read for countless bedtime stories, and like me, it's turned out to be one of their favorites. It's timeless, and beautiful, and the truest vision of childhood I've ever encountered.
So, I was understandably worried when I got wind of a film version, as all lovers of beloved books-to-film type projects are. I have to say, though, that after viewing this new trailer released by Warner Brothers a couple of days ago, I am hopeful. Very hopeful. Check it out:
26 March 2009
The Art of the Art
Fairly productive day yesterday, as I wandered away from "Becoming" and started a new story, horror, called "The Devil's Wheel". It's about a carnival that shows up in town only once every ten years, and a loser, low-end criminal named Bucket who finds his way there...
A great find a few days ago, "Eros, Philia, Agape" by Rachel Swirsky, up at Tor.com. It's a wonderful story, full of everything I think good SciFi should strive to achieve - believable, solid characters who are trying to figure out how to be human in a world driven by technology. Check it out if you can.
25 March 2009
The First Day of Spring
...has arrived and I am infinitely glad. The vague sense of grey melancholy that descends upon me somewhere in mid-January begins to lift like a fog burning off in the light of the sun. And it's not the sunlight, per se, that carries me up and out...it's the greening of the world. The leaves and grass anchor things for me, and give me comfort. It's not the lack of sun that is the culprit in winter. It is the lack of life and vitality. I survive in winter time - I live in the spring.
So, to celebrate, I went out yesterday evening and took a bevy of pictures from my blossoming garden. Enjoy.
And for those of you who are still in the grips of ice and snow, take heart - the warm air is drifting your way, and it will arrive soon...
All images copyright 2009, Lynette Mejia.
20 March 2009
Marking Time
Rainy day here, which is a good thing for two reasons. One, we need the rain - the area is already in a moderate drought for 2009. Two, during the month of March, I have a very hard time staying indoors. The warm sun and the greening Earth are far too tempting. I want to be outside after the long, cold winter. I want to feel the warm breeze on my skin, and dig in the dirt. I want to be a part of the world waking up again. The fact that today is nasty out at least ensures that I'll be inside getting work done, which in my case is a very good thing, since I did in fact spend most of last week outside.
Watched "Flash of Genius" last night with the LOML. I thought it was a pretty good movie, which surprised me because of its low performance at the box office. After we were done I looked up the New Yorker article on which the movie was based, and found it very interesting. You can check it out here.
I did manage to get my website updated yesterday with publication news. Today is set aside to write, write, write, as well as sending a couple of stories back out into the wild. And maybe later on, a walk in the rain. Just for a little while. :)
14 March 2009
"The Homecoming" Live at Niteblade
My story "The Homecoming" is now live at Niteblade Magazine. It's only my second published piece, my first paid sale, and I am happy, happy to see it in print. It's also my first story to get an illustration, which makes it doubly cool. Please go visit, take a peek, and leave comments.
01 March 2009
Thawing Out
Spent the day at an outdoor event with my daughter that required me to stand around for hours in the cold, biting wind. I felt like one of those cows you see in snowstorms hunkered down against the cold and wet. It's taken me hours to properly thaw out. And yes, I know I am a wimp, that Louisiana cold doesn't measure up to 'real' winter weather. Be that as it may, I still freeze. I'll be glad when Spring comes for good.
Finished 'Memento Mori' a few days ago and sent it off to Chiaoscuro. So, now to wait and see.
Tomorrow will be spent inside, working, except for a short trip to the grocery. I'd also like to update the website and post a couple of short pieces so that visitors can get a sense of my work.
Last week's labors involved a lot of note organization and outline work on The Queen of the Night. I feel like I'm getting a much better handle on the more subtle plot points, and it's really helping to collect and arrange all of the notes I've made over all the long years of research. I have a couple of scenes that I need to finish, but I feel like the project is at long last starting to come together in a meaningful way. Hurrah!
