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And my flist goes IN. SANE. (sort of)

Three posts, all within the hour, over this:

Recent Sales, from Publisher's Marketplace:

Sarah Gray's WUTHERING BITES, a retelling of Wuthering Heights in which Heathcliff is a vampire, to John Scognamiglio at Kensington, in a very nice deal, for publication in September 2010, by Evan Marshall at Evan Marshall Agency (World).

Fuck that noise. I've decided I'm going to rewrite Anaïs Nin's Delta of Venus, and pack it with so many vampires, werewolves, zombies, cephalopods, and steam-driven fuck machines, people's eyes will MELT DOWN THEIR FACES when they read it. I may even throw in a face-hugger or two, and they won't be hugging any faces, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

Do you think I'm joking? No, I'm not. I mean, really, would you rather read some boring old "classic" updated with vampires and zombies, or filthy, saucy, classic French erotica updated with vampires and zombies? (Hint: if you say the first one, I'll cut you.) I can do this, easy. I'll type out all the original stories in the book, and then every morning I can take half an hour, pick a story, and insert things. Many things. Oh, and there will be insertions of things like there has never been thing-insertion before in the history of the human race or classic fiction rewriting.

And then I will sell it and pay my electric bill and eat BBQ until I pass out. VICTORY.

Man, I feel so much better now. Anyone have a cigarette?

Marine Autumn

I owe you marine autumn
With dankness at its roots
and fog like a grape
and the graceful sun of the country;
and the silent space
in which sorrows lose themselves
and only the bright crown
of joy comes to the surface.

--Pablo Neruda.

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