Monthly Archives: March 2009
The blinding moment of clarity I had this week came as a result of some VanderMeerish sagacity.
You see, post-Clarion I’ve been trying to become one of those writers who write something every day. Every damned day. That’s in addition to doing the things that are attached to the business of being writerly: checking submissions, accepting rejections, dancing in an undignified
I don’t know who I want to be more when I grow up: Neil or Stephen.
The inestimable Meg Vann at AWM Online prrovides some excellent linkery goodness, stirs it in a pot and produces: GOLD! Useful info (and Tiny Plaid Ninjas score a jersey too). Go here http://blog.awmonline.com.au/ to share the wisdom.
Anne Sexton, “Words”
Be careful of words,
even the miraculous ones.
For the miraculous ones we do our best,
sometimes they swarm like insects
and leave not a sting but a kiss.
They can be good as fingers.
They can be trusty as the rock
you stick your bottom on.
But they can be both daisies and bruises.
Yet I am in love with words.
They are doves falling out of
The Piece of Ice in Miss Windermere’s Heart
Violet liked a challenge, most of the time. But then again, most of the time she was not hanging upside down over the bed of one very fat, very drunk, impossibly rich noble. Breathing in the fumes that rose from him might very well finish her
Lives at Locus Online.
Not only is the man a great writer and a rocking editor, he is a generous professional. He says wise things here and he says nice things here: http://blogs.abc.net.au/articulate/2009/03/flycon-intervie.html
A talented friend of mine (Mark Kassab – who rocks, BTW) wrote a short film screenplay based on my first-ever Daily Cabal story ‘Sunday Drivers’ (http://www.dailycabal.com/angela_slatter/) … well, a film-maker is interested in making it into a film. How cool. 🙂
Saturday morning being, as it often is, a time for gentle contemplation and hard procrastination, I was thinking about the short stories I have coming out this year … are there any? At first I shook my brain, but that merely caused a hollow echoing, and a few tumbleweeds blew across the streets of my mind. So I thought “Y’know,