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Why I haven't blogged about Europe

1. Since last Thursday, I've: rewritten a poem for resubmission to a market; started major rewrites on an old story (turning it from erotica into dark fantasy); written 3,000 words of a new story (slightly humorous horror, if there is such a thing); written 5,000 words of an outline for what appears to be a quartet of dark fantasy novels; sketched out the general outline for the horror novel I'll start writing on October 1; transcribed an outline I wrote while in France for the expansion of an old story ("The Girls of the World") into a trilogy of novellas. In other words, I've been acting like I'm a real writer. Yes, it's shocking - I'm more shocked than anyone. Maybe that year-long Clarion slump is finally over, heh.

2. To be honest, I haven't really had much of a desire to blog about Europe. It was a great trip, but when it comes down to brass tacks, there was nothing unique or spectacular about it that I think I can say - the pictures are interesting, probably more so than my telling you how my feet hurt while I stumbled through the corridors of the Louvre. Also, I'm being kind of selfish about wanting to describe places and events - a number of them are going into future stories, and I'm therefore reluctant to blog about them. I'd rather you experience my trip to Europe through the story of a screaming, bloodied protagonist stumbling through the forests of Burgundy, pursued by a malevolent, ancient creature than through a two-paragraph blog about how I walked through a forest in Burgundy and saw an orange slug asleep on the road. :P

3. To be even more honest, I haven't had much of a desire - since Clarion, in fact - to blog here on a regular basis. Well, that's kind of obvious. I know that not blogging means losing readers (blog readers and maybe readers of my stories as well), but I can't bring myself to freak out about it. Yes, I go places and do things and have deep and meaningful conversations about things that Livejournalers might want to read and comment about - lots of things are happening in my life right now, lots of changes and many plans for future events taking place. But when it comes time to sit down and devote a good hour or two to writing it all out for a post, I completely lose interest. In other words: it's not you, baby, it's me. I swear!

4. Maybe this is just a phase, and I'll start posting like a motherfucker in a couple of months, and you'll all be OMG SHUT UP. But right now it feels like I should be spending time at the computer on my fiction, not on other things. I haven't written much this year - it's great that every story I've finished has sold, but my total output has been embarrassingly small, and very scattered. I seem to come up with ideas every five freakin' seconds, but then I dither for months on end about what to start next. I need to get organized and get my shit together. I need to write my novel, then write a couple more - and keep working on the stories and novelettes. So, fiction first, and sorry for the long pauses between posts, which will probably continue to be about once a week. In the meantime: look at the French cows and slugs!

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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