Lilith Saintcrow

Say Yes is finished in rough draft form, clocking in at 9.5K, which gives me some wiggle room when it comes to revising it in a little while. I had to take a couple stabs at it, and I’m still not sure the first version isn’t the better one, but I kept that version for the big slush pile because it just. Kept. Wanting. To. Be. A. Novel. Instead.

Next up is the gargoyle short story, The Heart Is Always Right. Hopefully that one has been cooking on the back burner for long enough that it will fall out of my head complete. Maybe I’ll whack at it tomorrow between cleaning and making sugar cookies, and figuring out the menu for Christmas.

Digression: There will be challah. MAYBE bretzel rolls, because someone has been lobbying hard for them. Maybe some extra-spicy gingerbread, but I don’t have the patience for more snaps. Note to self: cook the bloody things on 335-340 instead of 325. I’m just sayin’.

So Say Yes has some bits I’m not sure of. God, novels are so much less stressful for me. I am in awe of people who can turn out short fiction. Maybe I should practice…

…yeah, when I have the time. Until then, argh, we’ll continue doing shorts on the current basis. I am not going to do what I did for poetry–a poem every day for six months. GOD THAT HURT MY BRAIN. It was productive and instructive, but it was not comfortable in the slightest.

Anyway. It’s still snowbound here, though UPS got through with a Solstice gift (yay!) and the mail got through as well, and the rubbish company says they’ll be by tomorrow. Huzzah.

God. I was agonizing over this story in a big way. Last night the UnSullen One sighed and said, “Dude, you get like this every time. Usually when you’re about a half, three-quarters of the way through. Right before you sit down and a huge lump of story comes out of you. Relax. Play some WoW.”

So I did. I went to Desolace with my belf hunter and right before I went to bed I was like “OMGWTFBBQLLAMATAPIR! I KNOW HOW STORY STRUCTURED IN LAST THIRD! OOOH!”

The UnSullen One confined himself to rolling his eyes so loud they could be heard in the next county.

So I wrote down the bare bones of the scenes I needed and went to bed, and today between a bit of Solstice cleaning (a new Morrigan statue I had to find room for) the story slid out. Not painlessly–more like in a lump of steaming something. It’s raw and messy, but I am on schedule for time to leave it alone and time to revise.

Which is a good feeling. I think I deserve a wee break.

Then I’ll poke at that gargoyle. And by God he’d better not mess with me. I’m dangerous right now.

Related posts:

1. Gargoyle DED
2. She’s A Saucy Wench
3. Revisions piling up. Stop. Send coffee. Stop.

This entry was posted on Monday, December 22nd, 2008 at 7:54 pm and is filed under Real Life, Writing (About). You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.