Lilith Saintcrow

Eh, it’s the end of the year according to the calendar. My year starts the day after Samhain, so there’s a weird disconnect in the darkest quarter of the year between candy and the winter solstice.

I am very scattered today, having just finished the third Kismet book. It’s in first-draft form, which will mean a LOT of revising over the next few weeks. So, RANDOMNESS! It makes as much sense as a long one-subject post would from me. Trust me.

* Campaign For The American Reader asked me who I would cast in the Valentine books, if they were ever made a movie. Here’s my reply. Much thanks to Mr. Zeringue, who very kindly didn’t curse when I was over deadline.

This is a popular question–we revisit it every so often in the forum, too.

* Speaking of movies, I went and saw Sweeney Todd. Twice. I know a lot of reviewers were upset because the movie didn’t have every scrap of dialogue and every song from the play, but I enjoyed it quite a bit. It wasn’t the grandmotherly Angela Lansbury doing Mrs. Todd, but then, what movie could be? There’s a difference in mediums between movies and plays. I thought the film was both a lovely riff on Sondheim’s musical and a work of art in its own right–I mean, come on, Johnny Depp and Alan Rickman singing Pretty Women? *swoons*

I have often thought, and still think, that Mrs. Lovett is the big tragic figure, not the Beggar Woman. The Beggar Woman had no choice but to end up the way she did; she is essentially a passive creature. Mrs. Lovett is practical and active, and suffers the fate of all (implied) sexually-active or even just independent women in film/plays/television. *sigh* Todd is an interesting character, even more so when he’s played well, but he’s not truly tragic–just psychotic and depressed. Yawn. Not that he’s not interesting, as far as that goes–but it’s Mrs. Lovett who really holds my interest, and who I wonder about the interior life of.

* I know a lot of you are wondering when we’ll have a paper Steelflower. It appears that the publishing date for such a beastie is up in the air, instead of kinda definite like I was told. So…sorry about that. I do plan on going back and writing the second Steelflower book, tentatively titled Steelflower’s Song (how’s that for a one-two alliteration) this year.

* I’m getting a lot of mail lately asking about the next Watcher book too. Unfortunately I have no control over when those come out. The next one is Mindhealer, it’s finished and waiting for revision. So, if you want to know when it will be out, drop the publisher a line, because I have absolutely no control and really can’t say.

* Heh. Nureyev plus Muppets equals WIN!

Ohgod, I remember this one. I laughed for weeks.

* I finished Painter’s French Chivalry: Chivalric Ideals and Practices in Mediaeval France and am taking another crack at Holy Blood, Holy Grail. I think I was too young when I originally read it, and furthermore hadn’t read O’Shea’s most excellent The Perfect Heresy about the Cathars. (His picture of Montfort is awesome in its telling detail unearthed from contemporary accounts.) After I knock off Holy Blood, Holy Grail it will be time for another whack at From the Ashes of Angels, which was in its own way one of the major inspirations for the story of Japhrimel and the Fallen.

* Why, I ask you, am I suddenly in the mood to write nothing but fantasy? The sequel to The Hedgewitch Queen (unpublished, and maybe will stay that way), working title The Left-Hand Consort, is burning a hole in my head. Maybe I’ve just had enough tech noir/urban fantasy for now.

* I am not doing New Year’s Resolutions. It’s just too painful when I get to May/June and realize I haven’t even started on any of them. Instead, I’m going to focus on being a decent person every day. Seems to me there’s a lot more mileage in that than in a list of “resolutions.” Hell, even Congress isn’t abiding by its own resolutions anymore. *sigh*

* Be safe out there. I don’t drive from December 30 to January 2, just because of the sheer number of drunks on the road. I strongly advocate staying home, but if you have to go out, please please be safe and cautious out there. People can be nuts sometimes, especially while lubricated.

A happy New Year’s to you all. And to all a good night.

My weekly post at the Midnight Hour is up. It’s about observation as the key to writing.

Today is a slow, sleepy day. Everyone is moving slowly and taking their time. I just almost gave myself a charley horse by stretching too quickly. How’s that for an inane, useless fact? In any case, it’s Friday, and I’m starting my weekend early. I’m within spitting distance (four or five scenes) of finishing the third Kismet book, which is awesome. If I get into it today and just write straight through I may have a workable draft by midnight.

Notice it will just be a workable draft, not fit for human consumption until it gets a bit of editing. As Elizabeth Bear points out, it is not necessary to write the perfect story. It’s just necessary to write the damn story, and you can fix whatever’s gone wrong in the second pass. The story will largely take care of itself, it’s always worked before.

Sometimes I wish life was like that. Then I think of reincarnation and think, maybe it is. But that usually spawns a fresh story, and I need another project like I need a hole in the head.

Eh, I’m not one for deep philosophizing today. Over and out.

I woke up this morning to find out that Benazir Bhutto has been assassinated. She wasn’t a perfect person, but she was a damn sight better than Musharraf–and does anyone find it suspicious that Bhutto’s ended up dead and another opposition leader’s supporters died this past week?

Oh, the irony. Because I just finished reading Naomi Wolf’s The End of America: Letter of Warning to a Young Patriot. Killing opposition leaders is a time-honored step for a dictator. (Not that I’m suggesting Musharraf had anything to do with such a move, that strengthens his hold on his unruly country after he was forced to step out of army uniform. Oh no. What kind of cynic am I?)

Quite frankly, Wolf’s book scared the hell out of me. Not because she’s an alarmist, but because I recognized every example she used. As an amateur student of history, I do believe you can see the future in the past. And I’ve felt a lingering sense of unease and familiarity with several developments in American politics over the last eight-nine years. That familiarity has grown into horror, the unease into outright fear.

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Why yes, I spent most of Christmas reading. Finished three books, as a matter of fact. Well, technically finished two of the books I’m going to review today and one I may review tomorrow. In between the eating and drinking and making pie and opening presents (best gift so far? Bed socks from New Zealand. I’m not kidding.), that is.

But before I do that…head over to PN Elrod’s LJ, where she’s celebrating the release of My Big Fat Supernatural Honeymoon with a contest. You can get an awesome Jack Fleming mug just for commenting. *jaw drops* Wish I qualified for that prize.

Now, on to the books!

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Weeks of planning and anticipation have boiled down to fifteen-twenty minutes of ripping and tearing of wrapping paper. The Princess is playing her Hannah Montana video game. (God help me, I bought it for her.) The Prince has gone through his Cooties set, his HyperSlide, and is now occupied with the little rubber ninjas. (There is a ninja war going on at the coffee table, complete with samurai yells.)

The UnSullen One is helping both Princess and Prince, alternately. His wrap job was ooh’d and aah’d. (Especially the wrapped cereal box holding wrapped video games. Heh.)

I am contemplating writing some on the fantasy opus. And I woke up with a story in my head that I’d like to tell, if I could do it without cliche. Even if I could do it with cliche I think I’d like to tell it.

So far, Christmas is going smoothly. Everyone seems content. I suppose it’s not totally stress-free–nothing ever is–but all things concerned, it’s as good as it gets.

Maybe I’ll just sit here. Eat a bonbon or two. And read The Economist. Heh. I am such a geek.

Here’s hoping you day is going as smoothly–or smoother, dear Reader.

Peace.