the hole, she is closed

Another red-letter day. The east and west sections of The Book finally met in the middle today. I'll get wordy about it later. Right now, I'm just relieved.

Everything but the Squeal

Maybe you've noticed Timothy Hallinan's link over on the left. Hallinan's writers' website is where I go when I feel like taking everything I've ever written out to the back yard and using it as tender to set myself on fire (but don't really want to do so), and I'm embarrassed to admit that I didn't pay a lot of attention to his work aside from that until recently. I was casting about for my weekly read and the thought occurred, 'Hey, what about that Hallinan guy? He gives great advice, let's see how it worked for him.''

So I toddled on over, and lo and behold, the man's first novel is a detective story. The first in a series, no less! I was almost giddy. My illustrious local library had a copy, and as I checked it out, a combination of anticipation and dread came over me. What if it sucked? A lot of crime fiction sucks, more than in the civilian fiction population. I don't know why. If this one did, where would I turn when fantasies of self-immolation threatened?

Fortunately, it didn't suck. In fact, it's one of the best things I've ever read. As usual, this plunged me into a deep green funk for about twenty-four hours, with the required attendant moanings of how poorly my own work compares, but I find myself returning to my MS with renewed vigor. I mean, at least I recognize good writing, and knew as soon as I found his website that Hallinan was it. That's got to count for something, right?

a pause for some levity

roadblocks

A bad day with The Book, then logged on to find I've been denied membership in an online writers' group, based on a writing sample I submitted. I guess I officially suck. Why doesn't that make me want to quit?

something

I should post something. I really should.

I'm still doing that Mysterious Thing with the Book; 'writing with the door closed,' as Stephen King so succinctly puts it.

The idea I had a couple of weeks ago that had me so firmly in it's thrall has waned. Not gone away completely, but retreated to the back burner where it belongs, so that I again have hope of finishing the current work in progress.

I've gotten caught up in some online discussions about the health care DEATH PANELS that Sarah Palin made up ('in honor of the American soldier,' I guess). As you can imagine, that's getting pretty ugly, so I won't recreate it here. However, I would like to point readers to a place where you can read the bill yourself. Read it, form your own opinion. Always a revolutionary act.

obligatory post

Just a note to say I'm not dead. I'm in a bit of a funk, for some reason. The Spouse reckons it's the heat -- it's been over 100°F here for almost a month now. I suppose he could be right, though heat usually doesn't bother me. It's the cold I can't stand.

I'd tell you what's going on with The Book, but for some reason I feel very protective of it right now. When I'm finished with the current task, maybe I'll write about it.