And now, the news for wombats.
Jan. 6th, 2005 09:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
truepennyIn case anyone hasn't heard this, Six Apart is buying LiveJournal. Together we form super robot that's stronger than the sum of its parts. Looks pretty groovy to me.
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I'm rereading Father Brown. It's very weird: half the time I'm not even sure I like these stories, but once I start in with the omnibus, I inevitably read it cover to cover. And then I'm done until the next time I need to read Father Brown again.
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I'd like to be writing short stories, but I haven't any ideas. Just this sort of vague, itchy, Wouldn't it be nice to write something you could finish a draft of in a day? feeling. Well, and then there's the dreams of glory, but I just stuff those in a sack and sit on them until they shut up again.
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Kekropia is brooding, like the darkness of Mordor reaching out toward Minas Tirith. I'm having little panicky doubts about whether I should even be thinking about going to cons this spring when I have this deadline (May 1st) and the first draft of the book isn't done yet.
This is not helped by the fact that I feel like I'm coming down with something, probably involving a lot of nasty-colored phlegm, which simultaneously makes part of my brain shriek No time! No time! and makes the rest of my brain too ill and floppy to deal with it.
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Heigh ho. Must feed cats.
---
I'm rereading Father Brown. It's very weird: half the time I'm not even sure I like these stories, but once I start in with the omnibus, I inevitably read it cover to cover. And then I'm done until the next time I need to read Father Brown again.
---
I'd like to be writing short stories, but I haven't any ideas. Just this sort of vague, itchy, Wouldn't it be nice to write something you could finish a draft of in a day? feeling. Well, and then there's the dreams of glory, but I just stuff those in a sack and sit on them until they shut up again.
---
Kekropia is brooding, like the darkness of Mordor reaching out toward Minas Tirith. I'm having little panicky doubts about whether I should even be thinking about going to cons this spring when I have this deadline (May 1st) and the first draft of the book isn't done yet.
This is not helped by the fact that I feel like I'm coming down with something, probably involving a lot of nasty-colored phlegm, which simultaneously makes part of my brain shriek No time! No time! and makes the rest of my brain too ill and floppy to deal with it.
---
Heigh ho. Must feed cats.
