I have succumbed to the modern age, because the SFWA Bulletin told me to….
I’m on Twitter. My username, in a burst of creativity, is leebattersby.
Feel free to link and I promise I’ll be pithy in a Steven Wright kind of way.
(Sings in his best Phil Collins voice– I will follow you, will you follow me, I will something something, la da dum dee dee…)
According to Loud Twitter, my tweets should show up here every 24 hours. They’re not so far. Accursed twenty first century…..
The tenth of November
Coz if you don’t you’ll be standing in Kings Park at dawn a day early wondering where the hell everyone else is.
Also, today marks the one-third mark in this year’s Nanowrimo. Keen-eyed readers will remember that I’m giving it a go this year, for the first time. (Anyone who wishes to link up with my progress on the site itself can look for me under the username CRKIng). The idea is to write 50 000 words of a novel (okay, strictly speaking,a 50K word novel, but I’m playing slightly differently. It’s my prerogative as a woman…) in 30 days, an average of 1667 words per day over the month. I’ve chosen to use the time to continue working on the first draft of The Corpse-Rat King, my second novel, which had encountered a little bit of stallage in recent days. The hope was that committing to the project would help kick-start the work again.
So how am I doing?
As of today, I have completed 22 752 words, approximately 45 and a bit percent of the target total. More importantly, when added to the 11 689 I had already completed, it gives me a grand total of 34 441 words under my belt, enough that I can be pretty happy with where the book is heading and start thinking about the path I want the middle of the novel to take (I have a pretty firm idea of the final third, which, amongst other things, means I write novels a little bit like Underpants Gnomes make money…)
Tonight I am going to reward myself with a night off, and I shall eat ice cream and watch documentaries about dinosaurs. Or whatever Lyn wants 🙂
I turn 38 tomorrow.
To be honest, it’s kind of snuck up on me this year, and I find myself wholly unprepared. The family, however, are far more prepared than I, so last night all six of them (including Cassie, and her boyfriend Mark, who we met for the first time) took me out to dinner, where they presented me with a new Tim Powers novel for my reading pleasure (Three Days to Never) and forced me to eat until parts of my insides seceded in protest. Much big news was revealed, and although I can’t discuss it just yet, those on Lyn’s LJ flist will know of which I speak. Suffice to say, many gasteds were flabbered, but I, for one, am pleased as punch.
Moreover, in what is becoming, at least for me, an enjoyably morbid tradition, I can now present to you the list of far more famous and/or talented people than I who I have now outlived:
- Lou Gehrig (All together now: Lou Gehrig, died of Lou Gehrig’s Disease. How’d he not see that coming?)
- Jam Master Jay
- Medgar Evers
- Michael Hutchence
- Bobby Darin
- Sal Mineo
- Robert Burns
- Colin Clive
- Samuel Taylor-Coleridge
- Marie Antoinette
- Arthur Rimbaud
- Irving Thalberg
- Vincent Van Gogh
Does it say something about me that I’m fine with the idea of being older than the likes of Rimbaud, Burns and Queen Marie, but being older than Michael Hutchence makes me feel like a fat old bloke?