Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Oh, and then there's this

I'm just two thirds through a spit and polish of a new novel: Death Most Definite.

I finished it a couple of weeks ago, well the almost "final" draft - while I let my Players first draft sit and grow a little distant. Now I'm just doing the line stuff, should be done in a couple of days, which is excellent, because I am itching to get back to the Players (and some short stories that have been burning a hole in my backbrain). I'm actually really enjoying the read through, I'm not sure what that means, but it has to be sort of good, right?

Oh, and then there's this. I'm very nervous about this, in fact: I have an idea of where I want to take the story, but we'll see. Once I get the novel finished.

Is there anything more fun than writing?

Monday, April 21, 2008

Good News of Various Sorts Including a Sandwich

Diana is out of hospital. I can't say how happy I am to have her home, but the place feels right again, and the dogs and cat are happy (maybe if I didn't beat them with a stick when she wasn't around, eh...).

Other happiness of a writing sort:

My story when I was thirteen I ate my city is up at Dog Versus Sandwich, Ben Payne's excellent Blogzine. I am very fond of that story, thanks to Ben for taking it.

I also received the edits of my story Delivery from the wonderful Damien Broderick. The story will be appearing in issue 21 of Cosmos Magazine. I'm very excited about this sale, I've wanted to sell a story there since issue 1. Best of all it's me mucking about in spaceships, is there a more satisfying pursuit for a writer?

Oh, and I heard from Stuart Mayne at Aurealis. He's taking a story of mine called Neighbourhood of Dead Monsters. Should see the light of day by the end of the year. I believe that makes it my fifth sale to that fine magazine - and it's a lovely horror story, or a horrible love story, but there's definitely horror and love in there. What's more it's the first story that they've published of mine that isn't science fiction.

What with these, and Day Boy coming out next month in Murky Depths, and New Deal in Dreaming Again, I almost look prolific.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

He Spoke too Soon

Well, there's been some medical emergencies at the Jamieson household.

Have spent the last week travelling backwards and forwards (and in circles) between home and the hospital.

Diana isn't particularly well, she might be home over the weekend, though she probably will have to go back in next week. This has been the culmination of not such a good year for my darling, but hopefully things are on the mend. Has meant that I'm behind in just about everything. Today is the first day I've actually been able to write at home*, after spending the day in hospital, which I take as a sign that my subconscious mind has decided that D is going to be okay, and I'm prepared to trust it, over my somewhat more pessimistic conscious noggin'.

It's this kind of stuff that tends to put everything else into perspective. It also reminds me what a wonderful family I have - on both sides.

*not that I was forcing it, just that it felt good, and I wanted to do it, which is normally how I feel about writing.

Monday, April 07, 2008

Back from the Middle of Nowhere

Went on a last minute weekend getaway to Kooralbyn - this weird hotel/resort on the Gold Coast Hinterland. It's a little rundown, but it has one thing that makes it very attractive, there's nothing to do there but relax and think. Last time we went to Kooralbyn I wrote a story that I'm rather fond of called Persuasion. This time I came up with the rough plots of two new stories, and played around with my new EEEPC, which is just the niftiest thing.

Oh, and it so nice not being sick, because, believe me, that was getting so very tired.

Friday, April 04, 2008

A Return to Regular Programming

Monday should see a return to regular programming. I'm definitely starting to fill better, even had a fairly busy week. The best bit being, I finished the novel - not two hours ago. Of course, finished doesn't mean finished. But the second draft is done, it's taken on a shape that I like, and it's so very different to anything else I ever written at novel length.

Now, I just need to give it a spit and polish, while I work on my redraft of the Players (filling it's various gaps and logic flaws as I go), and I will then have managed to finish two novels this year. Then it's onto a slight re-imagining of Roil, and the next Players book Drama Queen (while I try and sell the first) and Empire December and then the final Players book Dramaturge.

I've been quite flat of late, feeling that I wasn't very productive at all. But looking back it seems I've done alright, even if it's meant only tiny steps. A tiny step's better than nothing (even tiny missteps are, well, I hope; they're certainly better than giant missteps).

Here's a bit of the World's a Stage, it's totally out of context, remember it's only an early draft, oh and chattery Tuonela is a swan that has just helped Beth escape from the mad and malicious Scripteditors.

And Beth was barely hearing her, but looking at the great bulk of the guide ropes, thicker than skyscrapers, edged with clouds. Then down at the Stage Worlds and the thin mountain-edged line of the Traverse. And then to the right, or really, the front of the stage. She could see the hushed vastness of the universes beyond the Proscenium Arch. For a moment she could almost see Brisbane and her parents, then it became too big and all she saw were spiralling worlds, and the brilliance of stars and the darkest darkness that lives between them. It took her breath away.

"Freedom!" Tuonela cried. "Let me take you anywhere."

"Home. I want to go home." Beth pointed beyond the Proscenium. Tuonela nodded, she flapped her wings hard and flew, fast and straight, and drew no nearer the edge. They flew for hours and the Arch grew no closer. At last, the Swan sighed.

"I cannot. I am sorry, but I cannot. The edge recedes at precisely the speed I approach it, and even I cannot outfly myself."

Beth pressed her face in Tuonela's dark feathers, her tears were icy against her face.

"The Oaks then," she said. "I need to find the troupe."

"That's wise, " Tuonela dipped her wings, and started a long slow turn. "A powerful player like you, alone. If you don't find your Troupe fast. Things will find you. And not just my erstwhile masters, there are all manner of imps of the peverse. Everyone wants to have influence. Everyone wants to be a star."

I don't, Beth thought. But she was beginning to understand that she would have to change her mind, if she wanted to go home.

"And what about you?" Beth asked.

"All I want is the sky!"

Then it was just the rope and the air and the Traverse drawing nearer, and Tuonela flying like a dart towards the Oaks. And it felt good to be going somewhere that she had been before.

And, for the now, Beth had to be satisfied with that.