Right. There’s only one way to stop myself from obsessively researching this story and force myself to begin drafting the damn thing. I am kidnapping myself and squirreling myself away in an undisclosed location without access to the Internet or any other research materials.
Well, not really. But almost.
The fact is that I am, along with Jay Lake, “Writer Guru” at the Iron Springs Writers’ Retreat on the Washington coast, which begins tomorrow. It should be a very cool weekend of hanging out with writers, critiquing, and writing. There is no Internet or cell phone service, so if you have anything I need to know before Sunday you’d better let me know now.
I mean to come home with at least 1500 words of draft on the new story.
In other news, the podcast of “I Hold My Father’s Paws” from Beam Me Up has been re-posted in their archive. And the oil tank in the back yard has been successfully decomissioned… turns out it was not leaking, which means it took only a half-day and less than $1000 to drain, fill with gravel, and bury for future archaeologists to puzzle over. (Whew.)
I also got a rejection on the alien pupa story, just to keep me humble after the Analog sale, and sent it off to the next market in line, which just happened to be Analog. Not really expecting lightning to strike twice, but one never know, do one?