Enough to know they dreamed, and are dead

My dreams last night involved an angel with a blood-drenched sword in some fkuced-up version of either a): a fantasy version of Dickensian London; b): a fantasy version of Renaissance Venice; or c): some fkuced-up offspring of the aforementioned, in a world where the sky really did curve down to meet the land at the horizon, and outside the city it was always night.

This portends something drastic, I have no doubt. Perhaps it is an omen of writerness: the pieces for Ye Olde and Abandonned Drafte Novelle have at last recoalesced into something resembling sense, and I may spend the festive season doing crazy wordcount-related things.

I've been stalled a long time. I was almost wondering if I would ever write again. It's a pleasant feeling to feel words in my fingertips again, and to have characters bouncing insistently off the front of my brain.

Um. That last sentence sounds rather strange. Please be assured that I am not, in actual fact, a crazy person.

Well, at least not in the clinical sense. *g*

Amazon has shipped my copy of Elizabeth Bear (matociquala)'s Worldwired. It also helpfully informs me that I may expect to receive it on or around January 6, next year.

This has not induced me to feelings of patience.

( Gollum moment, excuse me please )

Ahem. Sorry.

Speaking of which, matociquala is talking about - well, lots of things, in interesting ways - over at http://www.livejournal.com/users/matociquala/662563.html?#cutid1. A Companion to Wolves sounds like it'd be an interesting book to read.

Pity it's not yet published.

Enough to know they dreamed, and are dead

My dreams last night involved an angel with a blood-drenched sword in some fkuced-up version of either a): a fantasy version of Dickensian London; b): a fantasy version of Renaissance Venice; or c): some fkuced-up offspring of the aforementioned, in a world where the sky really did curve down to meet the land at the horizon, and outside the city it was always night.

This portends something drastic, I have no doubt. Perhaps it is an omen of writerness: the pieces for Ye Olde and Abandonned Drafte Novelle have at last recoalesced into something resembling sense, and I may spend the festive season doing crazy wordcount-related things.

I've been stalled a long time. I was almost wondering if I would ever write again. It's a pleasant feeling to feel words in my fingertips again, and to have characters bouncing insistently off the front of my brain.

Um. That last sentence sounds rather strange. Please be assured that I am not, in actual fact, a crazy person.

Well, at least not in the clinical sense. *g*

Amazon has shipped my copy of Elizabeth Bear (matociquala)'s Worldwired. It also helpfully informs me that I may expect to receive it on or around January 6, next year.

This has not induced me to feelings of patience.

( Gollum moment, excuse me please )

Ahem. Sorry.

Speaking of which, matociquala is talking about - well, lots of things, in interesting ways - over at http://www.livejournal.com/users/matociquala/662563.html?#cutid1. A Companion to Wolves sounds like it'd be an interesting book to read.

Pity it's not yet published.