No Complaints
February 6
I should go to sleep, but I just showered (it's easier to shower at night, now, and thus avoid the three-housemate-bathroom-crunch in the mornings), and I'm feeling all awake, so.
Today was almost, but not quite, a no-complaints day. Here's what happened:
I rose, and didn't feel rushed, and drove to work. On the way, I had one of those arrives-fully-formed story ideas. I got to work on time, and did some work, and on my break(s) wrote 2,000 words to complete the first draft of "Henchman Blues". I'm pretty pleased with it, but it's so new that I have absolutely no perspective. I know, I should be working on the Train story, but I knew "Henchman Blues" would be short, so I decided to go ahead and write it. Train story tomorrow.
Having gotten my writing out of the way early, I could cruise through my day without that usual weight of mild guilt! Whee!
Work went well. My boss gave us egg rolls. I worked on the bestseller list, which mostly entails sitting at my desk and compiling printouts, a nice break from cranking-at-the-keyboard.
At work, I got e-mail telling me that a very nice (and discerning, of course) someone has recommended Little Gods to the Nebula ballot! Which brightens a young man's day, I assure you.
I drove home, and checked the mail, where I found a contract from Realms of Fantasy. Moreover, they're not giving me the low-end of the pay scale, as I'd assumed they would, so it's more money than I'd anticipated (and with a 12,000 word story, getting an extra penny a word adds up nicely). Wiscon and a good chunk of Worldcon will be paid for by writing, la. What a fine and fuzzy feeling!
I walked up to Piedmont and got food for me and Heather from the heavenly burger joint, Barney's. We ate and snuggled and shagged, then loaded up and headed to the laundromat, which wasn't too crowded and was less like Purgatory than usual, somehow. I finished ...And the Angel With Television Eyes... I liked it a lot, though I'm still getting used to John Shirley's different concerns... I remember when I read Wetbones thinking "Here's a guy who was a splatterpunk before the word was invented"! In Angel he's all but abandoned his graphic-horror, and cranked up his trademark weirdness level... the images are amazing... and this book continues the concerns he was developing in Demons, regarding human transcendence... anyway. I'll save it for the review.
After laundry, we got ice cream, and came home, hung out a bit... I played some Diablo II, wherein I bashed in Mephisto's flaming head, which is quite satisfying, I assure you.
And that's it. Almost perfect. A good time at work, praise (I love receiving praise), writing, good food, sex, a good book... that's every component I require for happiness (in no particular order, I might add). The only bad thing is that I have a cold, and felt sort of low-level crappy all day; it got kinda dreadful during the afternoon, actually. But when a mild cold is the only thing standing in the way of perfection... well. I really can't complain.
February Solitary Short-Story Dare
Total words written: 6,350
Words written today: 2,000
Stories written this month: "Henchman Blues"
Um. A Diablo II expansion pack would rule. Like, hint, hint.
Tim Pratt Join my notify list
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222