A Writing Update
Apr. 28th, 2004 01:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanFirst, I would like to report that, unlike some people, I am not inspired to write by the fact that the wolf has been seen in my state (no, not THAT wolf, I'm quite glad that the real wolf is back; this is the OTHER wolf), in my city, on my lawn, let alone when it is actually at the door. I am not inspired at all to do anything whatsoever.
However, Eric cleverly asked me to have some writing dates with him so that he could get some work done. A writing date with him is especially enticing at the moment because it means two telephone calls in an evening.
So: the day before yesterday, about 1600 words on Going North, a scene I am insanely smug about. And yesterday, about 1100 words, finishing up that scene and beginning on another. A prime player -- hmmm, for the sensitive, here's a cut tag, behind which lurk minor spoilers:
A prime player in this book is Meredith, who is mentioned in the trilogy as someone whou causes Ruth quite a bit of anxiety, but, I discovered partly by memory and partly because Eric kindly reread the books for me, never appears on stage. She's about to appear on stage. I wonder what she looks like.
This evening I get to meet at a coffeehouse with a bunch of other (female) local sf and fantasy writers and a reporter from City Pages and have a roundtable discussion about, well, something. Probably fantasy and sf. I'm looking forward to it, but also a little jittery. In defense against the jitteriness, I am for some reason rereading Cetaganda.
It's time to mow the lawn, but I don't want to think about it. I can put it off a little bit longer, I think -- it's going to be hot today but then cold again. Also my mother is making me a gift of about a hundred simple concrete paving stones, with which I intend to border the garden beds, thus definitively settling the issue of what is lawn and what not, so I'm not always mowing around plants that have sneaked out of the ill-defined plots, and so that I'm also no longer having to pull so much grass out of said plots.
Pamela
However, Eric cleverly asked me to have some writing dates with him so that he could get some work done. A writing date with him is especially enticing at the moment because it means two telephone calls in an evening.
So: the day before yesterday, about 1600 words on Going North, a scene I am insanely smug about. And yesterday, about 1100 words, finishing up that scene and beginning on another. A prime player -- hmmm, for the sensitive, here's a cut tag, behind which lurk minor spoilers:
A prime player in this book is Meredith, who is mentioned in the trilogy as someone whou causes Ruth quite a bit of anxiety, but, I discovered partly by memory and partly because Eric kindly reread the books for me, never appears on stage. She's about to appear on stage. I wonder what she looks like.
This evening I get to meet at a coffeehouse with a bunch of other (female) local sf and fantasy writers and a reporter from City Pages and have a roundtable discussion about, well, something. Probably fantasy and sf. I'm looking forward to it, but also a little jittery. In defense against the jitteriness, I am for some reason rereading Cetaganda.
It's time to mow the lawn, but I don't want to think about it. I can put it off a little bit longer, I think -- it's going to be hot today but then cold again. Also my mother is making me a gift of about a hundred simple concrete paving stones, with which I intend to border the garden beds, thus definitively settling the issue of what is lawn and what not, so I'm not always mowing around plants that have sneaked out of the ill-defined plots, and so that I'm also no longer having to pull so much grass out of said plots.
Pamela
