PUGGY'S HILL

 I've been sitting on this til the ToC was full and the anthology formally announced, which it now is & has been, by co-editor ellen_datlow :  I sold a story to TEETH.

It is a most excellent story, quite short, but full of subtlety.  That seems to be what I'm writing these days:  If you blink, you'll miss something important.  Very annoying to read, I'm sure.  I hope you like it anyway.

I began it several years ago, when all I had were the first 3 lines hastily scribbled in a moment of inspiration.  Fortunately, I did not lose them, and when I heard that Datlow & Windling were doing a YA vampire anthology, I fished them out and wrote what happened next.  But here's the original beginning:

        “You so totally just ran that red light,” she says, not without admiration.
         “I know,” he says with satisfaction. He downshifts, and passes a van that has been in front of them for blocks. “I love driving.”
         He is much too old for her, but that doesn’t bother her. She has never been fussy about age. She is a historian. What bothers her is that he won’t tell her about history. “I forget,” he says when pressed. “It was all a long time ago.”
         He knows. She knows he knows. He just won’t say.

The working title back then was "Another Irritating Vampire," but for some reason the editors preferred my alternate title, "History."

The lineup of authors for this antho is so amazing that I feel downright humble, and pathetically grateful to be in that roll call with them.  (The only other story I've read is deliasherman 's, and yeah, it's pretty awesome.  Looking forward to the rest as much as you are, and then some!)

I bet you thought I didn't have one. But the Massachusetts All-Stars (all of whom used to live within 2 hrs of each other) meet on an ad hoc basis, whenever there is need. And there was need. So:

Plans were made to meet last weekend to go over Delia's ms. for The Freedom Maze, which she must finish for Big Mouth Press soon; and also to look over Sarah Smith (sarahwriter)'s dramatization of her novel Chasing Shakespeares if we had time. And here's the lineup:

Saturday
5:30 pm Delia & I arrived by train in Boston, cabbed to Sarah's house. Delia has head cold. Sarah feeds us lovely soup.
7:15 pm Sarah's theatrical collaborator (Alex C.) & 2 young actors arrive. We divvy up parts, and begin reading script so authors can hear how it actually sounds.
7:45 pm Holly arrives from Philadelphia, where she's been attending family funeral, and reads a part.
9:30 pm We discuss ripping play to shreds, altering plot & focus....
11:00 pm Alex & actors leave. We continue revising. Sarah argues, takes notes....
11:45 pm Delia goes up to bed
12:30 pm I go up to bed
12:45 am Cassie & Josh arrive from Houston, where she's been signing books. Lots of talking.
3:00 am (I'm told) Everyone else to bed.

Sunday
10 am? We crawl out of bed. Sarah makes eggs, coffee . . . eventually everyone appears and eats them. Delia's cold mysteriously better.
1 pm Kelly arrives with Burmese takeout. We devour hitherto unsuspected culinary delights.
2 pm Everyone whips out notes & begins by telling Delia what each particularly loves about her novel, softening her up for the kill - no, for thoughtful and reasoned debate on what works, what doesn't, and what to do about it. E-mail opinions from Karen Joy Fowler & Doselle Young (who are not Mass All-Stars, but deserve to be) added to the mix.
5 pm Delia curls up on sofa with catatonia & the Sunday comics, while the rest of us continue to discuss plot. Kelly leaves to feed baby. Holly collects bags to depart.
6 pm Every conceivable leftover of any sort is eaten. Kelly returns.
6:30 pm Holly, Cassie & I thrash out plots to two short stories they're working on. My advice particularly brilliant. Everyone talks about books. And matchmaking. And travel. And stories. And food. And writing.
9 pm Holly drives everyone home. Sarah, Delia & I hunker down to watch "Emma" on Masterpiece Theater.
9:20 pm Holly returns for Cassie's Airbook, which looks just like the other 3 that were on the table, so easily mislaid. Drives off.
11:05 pm We finish mocking "Emma." Sarah drives me to all-night Shaw's Supermarket so I can buy Country Kitchen Light Wheat bread, which is not sold in NYC, and is the thing I miss most about Boston. Sorry.

Monday
9 am Up & out & on the train home . . . Blissful trip. Still catching up. Which is why I didn't get this written down til today. But you can see why I wanted to! It's already beginning to fade.... We weren't there even 48 hours - but it felt like a weekend and a half!

Wahoo! Just got galley pages from Jonathan Strahan for "'A Wild & a Wicked Youth,'" my "St Vier's boyhood" story which appeared in April/May 2009 Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, and has been chosen by Jonathan for his The Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year: Volume 4 from Night Shade Books in March. Gotta say I'm in damned good company - look at that ToC!

Anyhow, I am very grateful to this LJ, where I posted the errata from the F&SF edition - since that's what Night Shade set the type from, the corrections are the same, making my work that little bit easier.

Now, I suppose, I should read the entire thing through again, just in case I find any other infelicities. I really don't want to - there's bound to be a comma I want to change, or a word I don't like anymore - I'm such a fussbudget . . . I changed a couple dozen things just between the time Gordon bought it and when it was printed in F&SF. Where will it all end?!

I keep forgetting to tell you that I have a new story published, in Jonathan Strahan's magnificent Eclipse Three (Night Shade Books, 10/09). (I'd posted just a little on its progress here.) It's called "Dulce Domum," from the chapter in The Wind in the Willows, bits of which are also woven into my text -- that's the chapter where Mole & Rat find Mole's old home in a snowstorm on Christmas Eve:

Home! The call was clear, the summons was plain.

“Ratty!” Mole called, “hold on! It’s my home, my old home! I’ve just come across the smell of it, and it’s close by here, really quite close. And I must go to it, I must, I must!”

Home! Why, it must be quite close by him at that moment, his old home that he had hurriedly forsaken, that day when he first found the river.

The story's about home, and family, and a few other things besides:

He called her late on Christmas Eve. She was home. She said, Come on up, which was good because he was standing at a payphone two blocks away, his cellphone deliberately run down, and it was raining. She was wearing sweatpants and a fleece bathrobe with moons on it. The “I don’t care if I’m attractive or not” gambit. He called her on it by falling to his knees before her, singing softly, “Oh, holy night, the stars are brightly shiiiiining….” So she took the cue and undid her sash.

I started the story a few years ago, on my sofa in Somerville, looking out at the snow on the porch on a cold winter's night. I picked it up & put it down a lot since then, and when Jonathan Strahan asked me for a story for ECLIPSE 3, I realized it was a push to get it finished. It was very exciting and very challenging to write, as it's in a new style I've been experimenting with, messing with points-of-view and indirection and what people are willing to reveal to others and to themselves - I've done a couple of new Riverside stories in it (of which more later; neither is out yet), too. I didn't think this one was really working, so I'd put it aside yet again when I realized that Jonathan's deadline was near, and learned that he couldn't give me an extension. So I sent him the rough ms., saying, "If you like it, I'll knock myself out to get it done for you on time (and maybe you can even give me some editorial suggestions), but if it's not right for you, I'll put it away again & see if I learn more about writing eventually...." Of course, in the course of whipping the rough draft into shape to send him, I cracked the back of it. Pressure (and an audience) are wonderful things! Don't forget that, kids. Anyhow, armed with his love, I finished the story, and am 95% pleased with it. And I am forever grateful to Jonathan Strahan for his faith and encouragement on this one.

Here are a few excerpts, mostly from the Grahame, with bits of mine thrown in, just to give you a taste:( Read more... )
* * *
And so I wish you all a lovely holiday season, however you roll. You can read Grahame's Dulce Domum chapter here, online - or get out your battered old copy of The Wind in the Willows.

"I know you're outer-directed, honey, but get a grip," says Delia. "Now, I have a house to clean."

Thus, this morning, as I obsessed (again) over what I would read next Tuesday at our big 20th Anniversary NYRSF Reading at South Street Seaport (hosted by old friend Claire Wolf Smith, whose LJ Identity I will leave to her to reveal in these pages as she chooses). Should I do the joint reading of The Man with the Knives, with Delia reading Sophia's p.o.v. sections, and me doing Alec's interior monologues? We read through it on Sunday, and it's awfully dense language & text (plus, her part is longer than mine! And I get all the difficult poetryish bits). I haven't even sold it yet (it's out right now with an Exclusive anthology), so it won't be appearing for months, if not years. Is this a horrible tease? Or a Rare Treat? If I promise to do an unpublished Riverside story, but I chicken out at the last minute, will you be content with "The Duke of Riverside" instead (sold to Ellen Datlow's CITIES for 2010), even if I can't read the whole thing 'cause it's too long? (Or can I take 45 minutes to read 1 story?) Or would you rather hear something you've already read? I think that it was ca. 20 yrs ago (agh!!) that I first read "The Swordsman whose Name was Not Death" at NYRSF - Jim Freund says he still has the tape - would it be fun to hear that now?

My divine chiropractor, George Russell, says Go For It - he is an astute reader with a prodigious memory who, as he worked the knots out of my legs, suggested various scenes from TPOTS which, in fact, are the very ones I usually read aloud to audiences (he also remarked, "I think Marcus is transexual" - well, whatever that term is for someone who's not committed either way). I adore George. If you're a writer in NYC whose body hurts (Don't all jump up & down at once!), call him. And/or try this Ergociser program maryrobinette tweeted me about.

Thanks for your many helpful suggestions for Alec's surgery (last post)! I think I may go with an emergency laryngotomy (instructions here - though this comes closer to what I'd first imagined - but how does it work? My deepest thanks to thumbelinablues for the invaluable resource! I still owe her a bottle of wine, and banjo strings). Meanwhile, thought you might enjoy seeing the "placeholder" version of the Surgery Scene; this is what I wrote when I was deep in the story and wanted to get the emotions and the rhythms right, before tackling the actual physical crisis. The revised version will be altogether different, so I figure it's OK to put this up here now. Also, I think it's a very prettie piece of writing, and I'm annoyed that I can't actually use it . . . . At least, this way, someone will see it! This scene occurs halfway through the story. Or maybe towards the end.

( Outtake: The Man with the Knives )

deliasherman has blogged our latest theatrical outing - my comments (of a memoirish nature) are below her post, and I'm not going to copy them here!

How am I? you may be wondering; and howbout them deadlines? Aherm. Yes. Am running KlezNut revisions back-to-back with a Riverside story that a rather prestigious, high-profile, high-paying anthology has allowed as how they'll take a look at if I can get them a final draft in 2 wks. You do the math. We're bringing actors in for a reading of the revised script on Weds., so I'd better get as much story done as I can before then. 'Bye, now!

(Took yesterday off to hang out with beloved nephew AJ who drove down from college for a weekend in NYC - why he wanted to spend an entire day eating & walking in Central Park with ageing aunts is - well, it's nice, that's what.)

Castle Gwydir even better than we could imagine. The place I always lived in my dreams. Photos to come. Judy printed "Dulce Domum" out for me & made corrections in stone room by candlelight before retiring to curtained bed. Photos to come. Now sitting in only internet cafe in Llandrwst, eating jacket potato having finished typing in & sending detailed corrections to Jonathan for ECLIPSE 3. I hope he & the Night Shade guys don't gang up to lynch me when we meet up at WFC next month. I hope it's a good story. I hope Delia can make it out of the tiny little parking space by the cafe I made her back into. I hope we get to Portmeirion before everything closes, and that they've saved us a pretty little cottage in that crazy village.

Guys behind me drinking cappucino & speaking Welsh. It's a fine life, if you remember to drive on the left side of the road.

First off, apologies to everyone to whom I owe a letter, a response, a thank you note, etc. (esp. Adrienne Martini - I love the scarf you made & gave me at Worldcon! I have a great photo of all of us wrapped in it! I should post it! Oh, hey - you've written about our dinner at Little Sheep! Cool photos.). In addition to getting ready for our 3-week UK jaunt, I've suddenly had - and hit - a bunch of deadlines. Here's my crossed-off To Do list. Give me your love!

* Revise "The Duke of Riverside" story for Ellen Datlow's urban fantasy anthology (coming in 2010, titled NAKED CITY, St. Martin's Press). Yeah, I sold it to her, got the contract, and then went, "Mmm...I don't think this story really works." She said if I could get it done before we left for England, she'd try to fit it in - assuming she agrees with me. Got it in last night. Phew!!! (But if none of my clothes match when we get there, that's why.)

* Draft "Dear Bordertown Authors" letter. Send to blackholly & bgliterary & Terri' for fussing over details. Worry about who has time to reconstruct map of Bordertown from existing stories. Realize in bolt of genius that Fan Sites have already done exhaustive lists! Bless you, fans. We loves you. Have long phone meeting with Barry & Holly & figure out I don't really know how Googlegroups work, but am willing to learn. Letter sent. Awesome authors' awesome replies mostly responded to. It's magic!

* Type in all the performance changes from last year's Klezmer Nutcracker that were penciled in my script but never actually typed up, for reading (yesterday) at Vital. Which I don't have time to tell you about, but it was great. Lots of rewrites ahead, however.

* Figure out which shoes will not exacerbate exciting new foot condition (cuboid syndrome, anyone?) for next 3 weeks by trying on & wearing (w/different sock combinations) for an hour each. I'm almost there....

* Get tix for complicated multi-leg trip to WFC.

*Leave letter for doorman explaining which peripatetic musician friends will be crashing here while we're not.

* OK, you're bored now, aren't you? Go do something else! I am so glad the weather's broken. Trying to pack for 50-62F when it's 90 was a bit of a challenge.

I also want to give a special thank you shout to all my Interstitial Arts Foundation committee heads & members, & my IAF Executive Board pals - knowing you're out there doing great work makes it all so much easier!

My love for the Israeli writer David Grossman is great. Ever since I discovered his novel See Under: Love, I have considered him a personal pet of mine - even though I have not read enough of his other work. (Kelly Link did give me a copy of his YA novel The ZigZag Kid, which is terrific.) My love is renewed as I read his essay about Bruno Schultz in a recent New Yorker, and came upon this (a reflection on being a first novelist - or, as we say in the specfic field, a "young writer"):

A new writer is sometimes like a new baby in the family. He arrives from the unknown, and his family has to find a way to connect with him, to make him a little less "dangerous" in his newness and mystery. The relatives lean over the infant's crib, peer at him closely, and say, "Look, look, he has Uncle Jacob's nose! His chin is exactly like Aunt Malka's! Something similar happens when you first become an author. Everyone rushes to tell you who has influenced you, from whom you have learned, and, of course, from whom you have stolen.