Week of July 31-August 6 (belated)

[mrissa]

One rejection, that's it. Well, and an e-mail conversation about revisions with the editbeing who bought "Carter Hall Recovers the Puck," and I think we have a solution we're both happy with, so now it's a matter of implementing it.

I'm in my least favorite part of revisions for Thermionic Night. As if to compensate, my brain has thrown me into my favorite part of revisions for Sampo: the part where I haven't yet cracked open the manuscript and am still convinced that it can be made into something good. (Incidentally, if you have TN and suspect that you'll have comments for me at some point, can you e-mail me and remind me? Or comment here, I suppose. Thanks.)

I underpacked books for the weekend, out of a combination of overestimation of how long I'd be willing to spend on one volume and forgetting to pick up To Say Nothing of the Dog for a reread. (Now that I didn't have it to reread on the trip, I likely won't reread it for awhile. Ah well.) So I was bookless for the last 1.5-2 hours of the drive, which was not the worst tragedy known to mankind but was uncharacteristic and annoying. I read a volume of Siberian folk tales that annoyed the heck out of me: the compiler/reteller said that he'd left the bawdy ones out. No reason why, just left them out. This was not explicitly a children's book. Yarg. Also the compilter/whatever had some clear preconceptions about what made something "authentically folk," which made me want to hurl. I also finished Gwyneth Jones's Bold as Love. I don't care if it's a Hendrix reference, I think it's an awful title, on a par with Time Enough for Love, which must always be pronounced Time Enough for Luuuuuuurve. But -- still more unfortunately -- I liked the book. It kicked a few of my squids dead center for character relationships (we all know what a sucker I am for character relationships by now, right?). Why is this bad? Because I bought it in England -- not out in the States -- and the last page says that the next volume of the story is called such-and-such. Sigh.

Also I read The Spring of the Ram, which is good and interesting and all, but the Niccolo Chronicles are just not on a par with the Lymond Chronicles; at least, not yet. Maybe later books will be. Anyway, they're good. They're just not Lymondy, and they lack Philippa.

And now I'm reading porphyrin's copy of Technogenesis and having some suspension of disbelief issues I suspect are related to the indifferent quality of the prose. It's not a bad book so far, though, and not one I'm in danger of putting down unread. Also I'm eating a pecan roll from Wheatfield's and listening to thunder. I hope it stops by the time I need to take Ista in for her vaccine boosters: both of us would be much happier if we could walk the 4 blocks to the vet instead of having to drive. Still, I love thunderstorms, and they're a reminder that we're home.

Also there were no alarming messages on the answering machine when we got home, so the dubious optimism keeps getting less dubious by the hour.

ETA: Can't believe I almost forgot: and matociquala won the Campbell Award! WOOOOO! Go Bear! (Most of you already know this, I think, but it's still worth acknowledging.)

Comments

[merriehaskell.livejournal.com]

Enough things have gone astray over the past few months that I thought I'd ask--I sent you comments on TN on August 2nd?ish. Did you get them?

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Yes, I got that, and I thought I'd sent you an e-mail saying thanks. I hope it's not on the "gone astray" list; or rather I hope it doesn't represent a much larger list.

[merriehaskell.livejournal.com]

Nope, I didn't see a response, but it may be in my spambox fer all I know. Alas, but I can't check that until I get home. Well, I can, but I'm not gonna. Priorities. :)

[pameladean]

I hope you read Niccolo Rising first.

They are not the Lymond Chronicles. I'm still not actually sure what I think of them. I think it is actually harder to get a Phillippa in their mileau. There are some interesting young women, however. But no Phillippa.

Things are about to get very twisty, and there's some splendid landscape stuff.

P.

Agh!

[pameladean]

Milieu! Agh! Milieu!

Stupid Norman Conquest.

P.

Re: Agh!

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

O best of Pamelas.

Re: Agh!

[pameladean]

Aw.

That was definitely a Mrissa-directed remark.

P.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Yes, Niccolo Rising was my "save this for a special treat" book for on the plane to London. If I know that there is a series, I am more or less fanatical about following series order whenever possible.

[pameladean]

Me too.

I'm not sure I could have read that book on a plane. I read The Fall of Hyperion on the plane to London and I have no sensation at all of having ever read it.

P.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I have the opposite on planes. I have a hyperfocus tunnel-vision thing to deal with the number of people crammed in there with me. People? What people? There is me and a book, and that is what I know. Or else I Am Sleeping, Dammit.

It's all right; Hyperion was a gazillion times better than The Fall of Hyperion, as far as I'm concerned.