The new novel. Begun today. Reading, note-taking, books ordered from Amazon. Looking for the sweet spot that tells me when to start seriously drafting. The characters are getting restless. Don’t want to lose them.
Meanwhile, loving the latest story from Joe Lansdale. The usual gore with gravitas. No one does it better.
And my new poem here.
This is how I’ll finish the editing.
I’ve been busy with things. The teaching, and I have stuff to read for other people. Writing for the Nervous Breakdown and for Clarion. I have a birthday coming up which fills me with both anticipation and dread. I haven’t been writing all that hard, have let the narrative threads for the novel unravel. Am becoming aware of what I have taken on again.
There are good days and not so good days. Nights of little sleep. Dreams, like the one last night, of a great tidal wave in the distance, in the future, and its devastation—flotsam and broken toys and scraps and terror already in the past, lapping at my feet.
Today I will weave a dream. A digital bridge to take me from here to there. Murky sludge of the true-facts world far below.
Sad to see that at the ridiculously young age of 64, Michael Hart, founder of Project Gutenberg, was found dead at his home in Urbana, Illinois. Described by admirers as an ardent technologist and futurist, Michael Stern Hart was to the eBook what Grove Press’s Barney Rosset was to print—making out-of-print literature available to millions,…
John Osborne’s story of life after death with his sister.
http://vook.com/vook.php
I spent the first half hour in the candle-lit dark thinking, I’m going to have to go home and write about this, but then the Top Ten Classics and the steam and the rubbing and the creaminess took over and then I was just a piece of meat. But now I’m loving Brentley Frazer’s “Swimming…
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