ksmith: (snowsuit)
[personal profile] ksmith
I've a post on the SF Novelist's blog, for anyone interested.

It is snowing. Lawns were bare and roofs snow-free, which I guess were two signs of some impending winter apocalypse because Nature-That-Mother has sent snow to make it right. We could get up to 6" up here and it's supposed to be the wet, heavy stuff, which will be a bitch to shovel.

The best part about all this is that I don't have to go anywhere. I'M ON VACATION!! No appointments, grocery shopping done yesterday. Wood boxes filled. Plenty of pet-safe sidewalk deicer in the bin on the deck. Shovels and roof rake ready to go. Let the snow fall where it may. And it is, outside my office window. Big fat flakes.

All manner of exciting chores have been dealt with over the last week. I've replaced part of the clothes dryer's exhaust ductwork. Bought a new microwave. Rearranged the kitchen, a task that included stripping wallpaper from the wall over the sink. The stripper stuff never works as easily as the directions on the box claim it will, but it does work eventually. Now I'm pondering what shades to paint the bedrooms, assuming I can even get to that in the next few months. There is only so much day.

I need to put together website updates. I also really, really need to file/toss/clean up all the piles of paper and stuff that have accumulated over the past year. In the meantime, I'm pondering changes to GIDEON. Diana wasn't crazy about the modern day chapter, which comes after two harrowing 1836 chapters and which she feels is sorta "eh" by comparison. I wondered the same thing as I was writing it back in October, and worried whether it moved too slowly. Well, apparently it does. Once more, the backbrain gets it right. Damned backbrain.

On a happier GIDEON note, I was able to find a recording of the bawdy Scottish ballad that shows up in Chapter 1. The song is The Laird O' Windywa's , and it's sung by Jeannie Robertson. Good ol' iTunes comes through again. I don't use the whole song, just a few lines, but if the occasion ever arises where I read that chapter, I need to know how the melody goes. Welp, now I do.

So, next reading I give, I may be singing. Be afraid.

Date: 2007-12-29 05:00 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] e-moon60.livejournal.com
It's one of those pseudo-thoughtful, hip things to say...fits into the mindset of certain people one might want to impress.

But, as you say, utter bilge.

I used to read a lot of spy-and-intrigue stories...Helen MacInnes, Mary Stewart, Ian Fleming, and of course LeCarre. And others. But those four gave me four completely different kinds of pleasure, with LeCarre at the grittiest and darkest end, then MacInnes (who could be startlingly dark), then Stewart and Fleming as the most romantic, but in completely different ways.

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