oh yeah. I know Monday when I see it...*

In usual meerkat fashion, a weekend of relaxation = waking up at 4:30am with both insomnia and a slight fever. Week, you're already on notice.

I will note that the Genre for Japan charity auction is now open. In addition to my one-of-a-kind galley for DRAGON VIRUS, there are LOT of cool things on offer. Go thou and bid! (don't be scared off by the UK site...)

Anyway. Once I've fed the monsters felines and put on some coffee, this is what's on tap for the next five days:


- Another 10,000 6,500 5,000 words on the WiP (last week I managed 8,500)
- week 13 of Practical Meerkat
- start thinking about the story due in November
- another 2,000 on proposal material, to bring it to proper "sample" length
- prep for RT (ack!)
- follow up on freelance projects
- post awful
- harass agent on pending materials
- week 14 of Practical Meerkat against next week's travel
- meet with accountant re: 2010 and 2011
- work some more on the very-tentatively-titled "Praise the Devil and Pass the Buckshot"


Shall we start taking bets how early in the week I surrender?






*penalty of syncing with someone who has Actual Weekends. Mondays are painful again.

the start of a story

Sometimes, you know exactly where you're going with a story; the only work involved is actually writing it.

Then there are the shy stories. The ones that show themselves an inch at a time, a toe peeking out from around a corner, a trailing hand, an echo of laughter or the lingering sob of fear.

This story appeared in an opening line last night: "The horse was an old one, and piebald to boot, but Jack would be damned if he’d give up and walk."

I knew why, but nothing more.

And then I was exhausted and had to go to sleep. I woke up oh dog early this morning, and started to write again.

By the time I'd gotten to the 210th word, I knew who Jack was and where, why he couldn't stop, and what he was fighting... but as of yet there is no actual, y'know, plot.

Just Jack, and the piebald horse, and Something gaining over his shoulder.

I stared at the page, and thought about the world, and what might be where he was going, and....

20 minutes later... oh hai, plot idea. Oh you're interesting. How are we going to pull this off?

Only words will tell.

OMFG a self-driven train wreck....

Things you never ever ever do. Ever.

http://booksandpals.blogspot.com/2011/03/greek-seaman-jacqueline-howett.html

(read the comments, specifically the author's)



[and yes, this is the sort of thing that gives self-publishing a bad odor. Both the 'tude, and the content. If you think you're brilliant/flawless, you probably aren't. Not unless someone Not Your Mother has deemed you so]