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Feb. 14th, 2012
1,007 words in 62 minutes. 577 words on a short story I think I'm calling Anastomosis; 430 words on Chapter 22 of The Hellion Prince.
Definitely doing this again tomorrow. And maybe once or twice more today -- I'm very quickly catching up to my yearly wordcount goals at this rate. Another week like this and I'll be comfortably ahead of my quota.
Definitely doing this again tomorrow. And maybe once or twice more today -- I'm very quickly catching up to my yearly wordcount goals at this rate. Another week like this and I'll be comfortably ahead of my quota.
Found out today that my next pharmaceutical study paycheck is more distant than I thought. so of course, as I often do when having money troubles, I unwisely decided to eat out for lunch. Eight bucks at the mall food court gets you a splendid sample of multiculturalism: there's a Cajun place that shares its kitchen and its staff with the neighboring Chinese place; and their bourbon chicken is to die for.
I re-read Sunshine, by Robin McKinley, today; and so of course I needed to go to the other end of the foodcourt and buy myself a massive cinnamon roll as well. Sunshine is my favorite vampire novel; about an aggressively normal young woman who does the baking at a coffee shop, in a post-apocalyptic-ish world where the supernatural is known to exist, but peaceful coexistence is not the order of the day. The immersive surrealism of the magic, the unapologetic ridiculousness of the worldbuilding, and the verisimilitude of the trauma the heroine goes through and the troubles she has are riveting. It feels, so plainly, like the first book in a series -- all these grace notes of character and setting left at loose ends, begging for more development -- but there's no further books. Given how long most paranormal romance series are, and how, well, inferior to Sunshine they are, this convinces me that there is no justice in the world.
And of course, the author's description of baked goods are enough to make one ravenous. If the local cinnamon roll place wasn't such a rip-off, I would have had at least another cinnamon roll and a caramel roll besides. But three rolls at this place is ten bucks. Ugh. No justice, I tell you.
(Fun fact: I worked at that cinnamon roll place for one day, back in, oh, 2005 or 2006, and my only payment was one blue polo shirt.)
I re-read Sunshine, by Robin McKinley, today; and so of course I needed to go to the other end of the foodcourt and buy myself a massive cinnamon roll as well. Sunshine is my favorite vampire novel; about an aggressively normal young woman who does the baking at a coffee shop, in a post-apocalyptic-ish world where the supernatural is known to exist, but peaceful coexistence is not the order of the day. The immersive surrealism of the magic, the unapologetic ridiculousness of the worldbuilding, and the verisimilitude of the trauma the heroine goes through and the troubles she has are riveting. It feels, so plainly, like the first book in a series -- all these grace notes of character and setting left at loose ends, begging for more development -- but there's no further books. Given how long most paranormal romance series are, and how, well, inferior to Sunshine they are, this convinces me that there is no justice in the world.
And of course, the author's description of baked goods are enough to make one ravenous. If the local cinnamon roll place wasn't such a rip-off, I would have had at least another cinnamon roll and a caramel roll besides. But three rolls at this place is ten bucks. Ugh. No justice, I tell you.
(Fun fact: I worked at that cinnamon roll place for one day, back in, oh, 2005 or 2006, and my only payment was one blue polo shirt.)