Aug. 14th, 2015

raven: black and white street sign: "Hobbs Lane" (quatermass - hobbs end)
I wrote a long post here about my job and then deleted it because - well, horrible indiscretion. Here, have some gallows humour )

I am not sure right now if I am feeling a little depressed or just sick at heart.

Er, things and stuff, in no particular order. I went to Nine Worlds! I helped run a track and I moderated a panel on worldbuilding in Star Trek ("All These Worlds Are Ours" - it was beautiful.) The convention was not as enjoyable as previous years for various reasons, but what was good about it was very good about it and I should make a proper post about that. Sometime.

Writing is a plague on me. I can't not. And when I try, I am completely overtaken by the feeling that my ability has long ago been outstripped by my ambition. I am trying to write 300 words a day of my novel and worrying that it's being infected by my state of mind. (It has a body count it didn't have six months ago.)

I have read a lot of good books recently. Sorcerer to the Crown, by Zen Cho (which I lliked); The Ghost Network by Catie Disabo (which I also liked, and which was so ridiculously relevant to my interests that it's possible it was written just for me); Space Hostages by Sophia McDougall (more delightful YA in space); nearly the entire series of Cadfael mysteries by Ellis Peters (love, love, love, though I have stopped after reading nine of them in a row because my prose is taking on a mediaeval quality); the four Hilary Tamar books, by Sarah Caudwell, which are convoluted murder mysteries related by a gender non-specific narrator and investigated by a group of queer, beautiful and hapless members of the Chancery Bar. They are probably among the most perfect things I have ever read. Here is a bit from the second book, The Shortest Way To Hades:

“You will be interested to hear, Hilary, that it [the drug] had a most remarkable effect — even on Selena after a very modest quantity. She cast off all conventional restraints and devoted herself without shame to the pleasure of the moment.“

I asked for particulars of this uncharacteristic conduct.

"She took from her handbag a paperback edition of Pride and Prejudice and sat on the sofa reading it, declining all offers of conversation.”


Now I am reading The Sparrow, on [personal profile] happydork's recommendation, and feeling rather comforted by it so far. Such elegance in despair.

There is a love meme, friends. Here is my thread. I can't blush in asking for love at this time.

April 2017

S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
91011 12131415
16171819202122
23 242526272829
30      

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated May. 24th, 2017 12:24 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios