May 30

I usually have some idea what I'm going to write about when I start a journal entry, but not so this time. Be prepared for unfinished thoughts and a stunning lack of insight...

I started writing a short story last night. My novel is increasingly like a lingering illness; I'm not cut out to take several months writing a book. A couple years thinking about it, sure, but the writing needs to go faster for me, I think. So I want to write a short story to cleanse my palate, to give myself a feeling of accomplishment before I dig in for the last killer third of my novel, which could be fun, if I approach it enthusiastically and write it in two or three weeks. The outline's all done, anyway, it's just a question of writing the thing. So in preparation for writing a new story from doodly-scratch nothing, I read some Jack tales, rambled online looking for Irish folk tales, thought about legends and myths and the modern world and my ideal coffee shop and self-centeredness and relativistic morality, and a shape began to rise from the vapors. The story, tentatively titled "Tell It To A Dog," is going okay so far. It may fizzle out, I don't have the plot all hammered out and there are pitfalls and crevasses ahead, but I'm enjoying the writing, which is what counts most of all.

Yesterday Karen took up the conversation I started... she makes some very good points about artistic compromise, and about being creative in the real world, where real-life issues are a concern... give it a read. But don't follow the link back to my pages; that could get dangerously recursive!

(Though not as recursive as The Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything)

I called my mom last week and told her I'm moving to California in August (Surprise! If by some miracle there are people reading this journal who aren't personally acquainted with me, that might come as a revelation to you, too-- westward adventures ahead!). I'd brought it up a couple of times before while I was thinking about it, and she always said "No you're not" and changed the subject. But since it's become a certain thing, I had to persist. She took it really well. She doesn't want me so far gone, but like I said on the phone, "I'm your son, Mom... you should know I've got to wander." She liked that, and she's supportive. She wants me to have a fun life. She's a great Mom. I'm really lucky.

I still have to tell my dad. I don't know how he'll respond...

Hmm. If by chance any of my relatives are reading this, don't mention it to Dad, 'kay? I'm going to call him in a couple of days...

I'm reading Green Eyes by Lucius Shepard, his first novel (or at least his first published one). It's really good; not quite as complex as his later work is, but I think a little more accessible. I like his short stories a lot, but the density can become a bit much in his novels... I just finished Corrupting Dr. Nice by John Kessel, it was great, madcap and engaging. I met Dr. Kessel once, had dinner with him and his wife when he came to do a reading at Appalachian State, my alma mater. He's a very tall man. Also quite friendly, and a good speaker. I like meeting authors I admire, and I've been fortunate so far, met lots of them (Clarion certainly helped with that).

My girlfriend and I are reading to each other a lot lately. We're doing mostly Charles de Lint stories now, working our way through Moonlight and Vines, his third Newford collection. I experience stories in a wholly different way when they're read to me, and when I read them aloud, and when I read them to myself. It's strange; I notice different things depending on the method of delivery. I think it's helping my own writing, too, oddly enough. Cadences and structures are both becoming clearer to me as I hear more and more stories read aloud. I think we'll start on some Connie Willis and Ted Sturgeon, soon, since they're a couple of the authors I most admire and probably have the most to learn from... The reading is good time spent with my girlfriend, too, it gives us something common to talk about even though we have such totally different jobs and daily lives, it's a powerful point of connection that keeps us from drifting apart.

Hmm. Guess I should work on that new story some. Sorry this was so disconnected.