End of Day Eight: 16,807
End of Day Nine: 19,029
I haven't written two thousand words today by any means; on the
other hand by virtue of having been a good boy on previous days,
I'm already slightly above the two thousand words a day pace.
And I think I'll be lazy and spend my political capital (so
to speak ha ha ha) and stop right about now, because I'm
sleepy and stuff.
So we've had our first Steamy Sex Scenes!
Our first of any of the novels, in fact. (Unless you count
the androgynous aliens plunging into the burning hot red interior
of the giant lizard as steamy sex, which it is in some sense since
that's apparently the way they get children and stuff, but
on the other hand well hm.)
(And maybe some vague hints of normal human sex in the other
two, but nothing steamy that I can recall.)
But they're pretty clean Steamy Sex Scenes; no
explicit descriptions of genitalia
It'd be entirely too easy to go all
Mark Aster, say, and
just write pages and pages about kissing and hugging and
stroking and licking and biting and gasping and screaming
and writhing and all.
I'm not sure why I'm not enthusiastic about that idea, really;
it sounds like great fun in principle.
Maybe I'm afraid it'd disappoint or shock or horrify or
alienate or offend some of y'all Loyal Readers and you'd
take me off of your bookmarks and expunge me from your
del dot icio dot us lists and (even worse) think badly
Maybe I'm just afraid one of my kids will want to
read my novels someday (and finding an explicit
sex scene in a novel written by your Dad
would be really freaky).
Maybe some year I'll do a pseudonymous erotic NaNoWriMo
novel, and just drop subtle little hints in the weblog
for those ambitious and twised enough to want to find it.
(And no, I promise I'm not doing that this year; two
novels in one November would challenge even the amazing me.)
And having cheated on my word count tonight, I think
I'll also cheat on my weblogging, and leave you with
just this entry, and this thought: what happened
to all that orange juice?
End of Day Six: 12,590
End of Day Seven: 14,619
Today's goal: 16,750
Given that I'm sitting here writing in my weblog instead of
in my novel, and that I have to go pick
up the little daughter from dance soon and take her to the
Mall to pick up some new glasses, and I'm already
pretty sleepy, that 16,750 may be sort of implausible.
I've been rolling right along other nights, after all, except
for that one Friday, and I made that one up right away.
Not that I'm necessarily advancing the plot ("plot") with
much regularity, but that's not what it's about.
And I did rather like the part about the wasps.
Three entire people (not counting me) have
my little essay about Photoshop and the alpha channel!
And four entire people have
this very weblog!
And that's just del dot icio dot us bookmarks; we know
that the rest of you have us in your normal browser
bookmarks folders and your RSS readers and stuff,
filed under "indispensible".
And this makes us glad.
As well as procrastinating by writing in my weblog here, I've
up another random pulp novel.
And I've been doing lots of that "work" stuff for my
Some interesting news on the Digital Rights Management Front,
in the category of "things content owners do to consumers'
and rather amusingly here.
Given that my abovementioned employer may have some relationship
to the company or companies and/or legal and/or technical issues
involved in the situation, I will only say "ooooooh".
Okay, now I'll go off and see about that novel-writing stuff.
End of Day Five: 9,281
Tomorrow's goal: 14,600
So we're All Caught Up from Friday's little forgetfulness, having
put in an extra thousand words each day of the weekend here.
(And we also watched the Danvers twins grow into
children from toddlers and Sally Raptor become very
good friends with another of her daughter's professors
from college, and we had bagels in the big bed and had
ham and asparagus and mashed potatoes and gravy for
dinner, and even if the ham was just microwaved and
the potatoes were from Potato Buds it was still all good.)
Will our protagonist have a torrid affair with the
wife of Octavian Melle?
Will he ever make significant progress on his book?
And what is his correspondant's terrible secret?
(Assuming, that is, that our protagonist is male,
which I don't think is actually established in the text.)
Be smoke of shortcake emigre
Re: Of give the tell preterite
Chesney acotyledonous aeroperitoneum
Are fix it saving sorcery
Re: It use on prescript gigantic
Re: As hurt as antecedence breed
Of sit as chile
Re: Wades to you
Re: He make go longship firetrap
And I still have time to gather Spam subject lines!
Another one of my favorites lately (as well as the one about
the aeroperitoneum and some others above; he make go
longship firetrap!) was from Clay Burns,
who wrote "einigen. Selbst wenn".
I like it because of "Clay Burns"; and because of it being
in German and all...
End of Day Three: 6,211
End of Day Four: 6,211 (heh heh, oops)
Today's goal: 9,250
Yep, I wrote zero entire words yesterday!
I was resting.
It did occur to me a couple of times in the evening
that I ought to be writing, but I thought to myself "eh".
(So now we're sitting on the bed watching Foster's Home
for Imaginary Friends, wondering if the group will ever
manage to get out of the house and on their way to
Europe, and if EuroTrish will get to go along.
Have to wake up the little daughter in fifteen
minutes, so she can get ready for Jazz.)
Tess with a beating heart writes:
Subject: That old Nigirien scam again
What is happening to you? Where are the Elysian Fields?
With a beating heart and a ring-side seat...
I don't know, what is happening to me?
I've been busy. Maybe I've been weblogging too long.
Maybe I'm finally growing up (that'd be too bad!).
Or maybe I'm exactly like I always was; who can tell?
But you, lucky readers, certainly have a ring-side seat.
Speaking of Judge Alito, we find this heartening fact on
WASHINGTON -- In college, senior Samuel Alito led a student conference
that urged legalization of sodomy and curbs on domestic intelligence -- a
sweeping defense of privacy rights he said were under threat by the government
and the dawning computer age.
In related news, also from
the suddenly-famous Scooter Libby has (like oddly many other
right-wing political types) written some
Rather disturbingly odd, in this case.
And speaking of fiction, here's
about the idea that storylines are patentable.
a whole website
on the subject (just oozes sleaze, do'n't it?).
(I have some prior art on the "Zombie Stare" plot cited in the first
article; when I was a young teenager I did some magic a couple of
times to skip particularly dull bits of time by instantly
popping ahead to a point afterward without actually experiencing
the interval between. I recall it involved a candle.
But I was smart enough to specify that my memories would be
entirely intact, just as though I had been conscious the
As far as I can tell, it worked flawlessly.)
Ian who used to have a weblog sent that first link around
in email, and it occurred to me that if storylines can be
patented, then obviously so can jokes.
Think of the possibilities!
"System and Method for telling a story about this guy who falls
in love with this girl, but her parents don't approve of him
so he has to visit her disguised as the postman, and..."
"Improved joke about the two strings who talk into a bar."
"Love story with secondary plot involving space aliens."
"Joke with sexually-suggestive punchline involving elves."
I should really do some novel-writing now.
I'm not all that happy with how it's going so far, and while
it's defintely possible to launch off in entirely different
directions involving space-aliens, it's much harder to do that
and (what?) maintain (what?) some desirable quality or other
(integrity?) of the work, or the experience, as a whole.
(I was thinking of doing one two-thousand word chapter
entirely in a fictional foreign language, for instance,
but I haven't yet convinced myself it'd be acceptable.)