I want to write a sequel to my novel. [The Stars and the Cookie Jar]

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This would prove difficult, as everybody dies.

*sigh*

Talk about writing yourself into a corner.

I haven't finished any short pieces in a long while either.

I did get compared by Only Socially Acclimated Proprietary Software Developer to an author I never heard of before, Peter Balakian. He started reading my book at 1:00 last night. Poor fellow.

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There are 19 comments on this entry. (Reply.)

Oooh ooh! *waves hand* Biography of the teacher! Biography of the teacher!

Oh, I meant the dead Jews novel.

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Oh! Right. Um. Adventures in the Jewish Afterlife? :D

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There should be a sequel. Definitely.
Um...
I'm sure you can figure out how that works.

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Kill them all! w00t!

I am writing so weirdly right now and feel very very lost. I am trying to experiment and try new things. But I worry that I am making an unreadable mess.

Have you read Kelly Link's "Stone Animals" in the best short stories of 2005? It was wonderful in my feeble opinion.

I know she and Gavin...Grant? are editing Year's Best Fantasy and Horror now, and I had seen her collection in hardcover, but I was having to wait for the paperback for budget reasons. :) Thanks for giving me impetus to check it out.

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I actually sent her an email to fangirl her. I am such a huge dork.

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I've never heard of Peter Balakian, either, but he should feel complimented.

He wrote Black Dog of Fate, Amazon tells me. Coincidentally also about a genocide, but he does sound a bit like me.

It's Wife's Weird Canadian Sport Night, so I'm hoping to write some then.

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It's Wife's Weird Canadian Sport Night, so I'm hoping to write some then.

Thank you, Weird Canadian Sport Night. : )

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Sorry. I don't know why this posted anonymously.

Would you do some audio work for me, if I wanted to do a podcast-to-make-money sort of thing? I'd give you sixty per cent of the admittedly probably skinny returns. But skinny returns aside, you're one of two people I'd trust with the project, and I don't know how to reach minor Connecticut storm gods.
Po

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Fear not: I could tell who it was.

Certainly. I should warn you that I'm not known for my speaking voice, and I won't be free for such a project until April (when I'm through my exams), but it sounds fun to me and I don't even need sixty percent of the returns. Also, if you would like me to get hold of the minor deity in question, I'm sure it can be arranged. What are the details?

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Inspired by my wife, who has an unnatural affection for audiobooks, I'd like to do a recording of Dramatis Personae or a chapter of Verse from Babylon. I've heard your speaking voice; the important points are that it's a storytelling voice (chiefly) and you don't mangle names. Also, that I've wanted audio in conjunction with A Verse from Babylon since its inception. Also also that Stanford released a CD along with a compendium on Ansky, and that piques that sphere of my brain.

Ten extra bucks for a drunken recording by the storm god of Meine Kleine Gruner Kaktus.

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I'd like to do a recording of Dramatis Personae or a chapter of Verse from Babylon.

Cool. You realize that even if I weren't involved in this project, I would want to own the recording anyway? I repeat that I won't be free until April: but after that, I am definitely up for this.

Also also that Stanford released a CD along with a compendium on Ansky

. . . want.

Ten extra bucks for a drunken recording by the storm god of Meine Kleine Gruner Kaktus.

*snerk*

I'll see what I can do. (I want that too . . .) He spent most of the fall immersed in a class on Yiddish folk song, so this may be your lucky spring.

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Yes, yes, I know from April. I would wish you luck, but I'm afraid to disturb the delicate balance of the universe for you.

Regarding The Seal Wife: you may blame my philanthropic side and this bloody charity auction ("Charity, Mamma. Widows and orphans. ...We need more of them.") which ends this Sunday. Spend your weekend shilling for free stuff, and it sort of makes you feel tired and dirty, no matter how noble, and you just don't want to type.

The compendium on Ansky costs about a bajillion dollars -- well, $500 I think the magazine said -- but I'll look for it at the Library of Congress.

And Elie Wiesel gets a podcast, dammit. I want one too.
*waits for brimstone to rain from the sky*

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I would wish you luck, but I'm afraid to disturb the delicate balance of the universe for you.

Hey, at this point, I'll take all the luck I can get and then some. My health is in the dish-eater.*

you may blame my philanthropic side and this bloody charity auction

Down with philanthropy! I want my novel!

If it helps, I am not having the time right now to write a novella that desperately wants to be written. It evolved to about 9700 words before I had to stop, and contains things like (sort of) vampires, explicit violence, and road trips. If it didn't also contain tarot cards and weird mythology, I would be forced to conclude that someone else was in fact writing it using my brain.

*Is my grandmother the only person in the world who referred to the garbage disposal in the kitchen sink in this fashion? Given that I have seen spoons and (at Floyd Street) a shot glass consumed by these devices, I feel as though there must be others.

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I heard rumours of a sinus infection, but I didn't know it was still your bane and nemesis. Wasn't the surgery sposed to ameliorate all that?

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For most of the last year and change, it's worked. This is the first sinus infection I've had since the surgery that I haven't been able to shake quickly. Unfortunately, it's a doozy. And its timing, as they say in the vulgar parlance of this new century, bites.

I'm also not sleeping terrifically, which is a real issue. And last night, somewhere around two in the morning, some bitter, sorry person must have gone down my street pounding on cars' hoods: because two or three car alarms went off at the same time. I'd finally fallen asleep. It had taken me quite a while. I jackknifed awake to what I thought at first was my alarm clock, then blurrily classified as a fire alarm, and for about two seconds with absolutely no rational evidence feared might be an air-raid siren. (At least if it had been a fire alarm, I'd have had a valid reason to be awake.) As it was, the cars continued to shrill, honk, and beep at one another for what was probably not ten minutes, but felt like half an hour, before presumably their owners came downstairs and shut them up, and I lay awake for at least an extra hour with far too much adrenaline fizzing and spiking through my system. I really didn't need that.

So what is this? Do people have nothing better to do with their nights than set off car alarms? Oh, New Haven. I can't wait until I have my degree and can live somewhere slightly less sketchy.

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Audiobook!
Yay!

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February