Music: KGSR Broadcast Vol. 16
The new project was up to about 79,000 words until I cut it back down to 59,000. Now it’s about 60,000. It’s okay. That section is the core of another novel and it is waiting its turn in the queue. But it didn’t work in this novel, though it is related. So I cut yesterday, and tonight, after the booksigning at BookPeople, which was sparsely attended but fun, began the drafting process all over again. It’s going better though. That’s because I’ve pruned the deadwood and now the green shoots are showing. (How’s that for a gardening metaphor?)
I still think I can get this done by the end of the month and send it out to my first readers.
At the reading, I decided to read from Gordath Wood, the scene where Kate and Colar steal the Jeep out from under Bahard’s nose and drive it back to camp. It’s one of my favorite scenes, partly because it’s funny and partly because it practically wrote itself.
After the booksigning Ben and A and I went to Austin Java for a late lunch/early dinner. I got the Thai salad and was disappointed. I left most of it and ate some of Ben’s crawfish pasta, which was amazing. A devoured his bacon cheeseburger and I snagged some of his chips. So I didn’t go hungry.
Oh my goodness, just finished listening to Sam Baker and Gurf Morlix’s Slots. What a gorgeous song.
Music: KGSR Broadcasts Vol 16. James McMurtry has an amazing voice
A lot of words tonight, probably because I didn’t write all weekend. Saturday we spent at the park watching A play ultimate Frisbee. We got about 4 or 5 inches of rain on Friday and Saturday, so the kids were sliding all over the place. Plenty of mud came home with him. But it did clear up so nicely and even though it was humid on Saturday, Sunday (and today) was a gorgeous clear day, sunny, crisp and cool. I love days like that. We are almost into summer here in Central Texas and these days will be a dim memory soon.
Sunday we drove to San Marcos to visit friends. They have a two year old daughter and a 4 and half month old baby boy, and I got to hold the baby for hours. It was fun, even when he spit up all over me. And the little girl — who has these sweet red curls — finally warmed up to me enough that she would sit in my lap and I told her the story of the three little pigs.
For now though, it’s great weather. And my little herb garden is thriving. I even used some sprigs for tonight’s marinade for the porkchops. Rosemary, oregano, and on a whim I crushed in some mint. The basil is still coming up, and I planted a ton because I love basil. So despite my black thumb, we’ll see. Maybe this is the year.
Not too great progress this time, but I have a story I want to edit before I send it to my writer’s group.
Music: KGSR Broadcasts 16. Disc II. I was blown away by Sam Baker and Gurf Morlix’s Slots. Achingly beautiful.
I picked up the most recent Asimov’s and so far have read Kristine Kathryn Rusch’s Spires of Denon and Norman Spinrad’s essay on Thomas Disch.
Although I have been reading science fiction and fantasy since I was a kid, I only started to go to cons when I got serious about being a writer. The con culture is intertwined with the history of SF. I don’t think romance and mystery genres, both noted for their conventions, have the same con culture. (Please correct me if I am wrong in that.) The science fiction community and our cons are unique. And Spinrad touches on that at the end of his essay, that connection that writers and fans have, facilitated these later years by the Internet, and how maybe it could have saved his friend and colleague.
I wonder who of this current generation of writers and con-goers will become the lions of the genre. Who are the future grandmasters? Who is our Holy Trinity (Asimov, Clark, Heinlein)? Or is that time passed for good, and no one will ever rise to that level?