Still working on Of the North. The document of new or substantially rewritten scenes is at 22,820 words, up from 11,345 as of the beginning of the month. If I keep up the pace of 11,000 words a month, I’d have the full 50,000 done by the end of September. However, because life does not follow a constant work-rate problem formula, and considering that school starts up in two months, that’s not likely. Not to mention that in July I’ll be writing the first draft of my Snow White story.
My summer plans have changed a bit. I’ll do a post properly introducing the Snow White story, with a back-cover blurb and everything, soon. I’ll also talk more about the timeline for Of the North‘s future so far as I am thinking it will go for now, and what’s up with Wind Age, and things, but each of those is easily a post in itself.
I have a plot and characters together — well, mostly together, in the case of the plot, as I like to always leave open the possibility for a surprise — for the Snow White story. It has a working title, though it’s likely to change. But a working title is nice to have, and sometimes sticks (as in the case of Of the North). I also wrote the opening scene, about a thousand words, to get the feel of it. It’s quite different from what I’m used to, and I’ll stop there before I spill too much. Next week, hopefully, I’ll formally introduce it.
And for those of you who are waiting for the next installment of Wind Age — I’m having a bit of trouble with it at the moment. The good news is, with the Snow White story and Of the North having deadlines, and because Wind Age doesn’t have to be anywhere fast, it’s all right if we’re not done with it by the time I hoped for, as far as official commitments go. Of course, there’s the fact that I’m keeping you all in suspense, and believe me, I do regret it.
Last Harry Potter book — review here. It’s not a terrible series, though the worldbuilding is the only really outstandingly good thing about it. Entertaining, if you don’t mind moral problems.
Into the Land of the Unicorns, Song of the Wanderer, Dark Whispers, and The Last Hunt: four books in a series. The first two are good, the third one is problematic, and the last one is a bit too much.
The Thirteen Clocks and The Wonderful O, by James Thurber: as good as ever, even upon re-reading for the twentieth time. Both are way more fun to read aloud to an appreciative audience than to read alone.
The Girl Who Drank the Moon: discovered at the library two weeks ago. Very good. When my mother’s finished reading it and pronounced judgement I might ask about buying it, which is saying something.
The Fellowship of the Ring, for probably the four hundredth time or so. I haven’t read The Lord of the Rings for a few years on purpose, and I’m finding it’s even better with age.
Um, nothing? Unless you count the experiment I wrote about in my previous post.
But tomorrow we’re going to a regional fighters’ practice hosted by our forming group, and of course we’ll take any excuse to be in garb.
My sister and I walked up to a cemetery, killed two snakes (one on the road, and one, messily, on a flat gravestone), and sang Handel’s Since By Man Came Death, on the day before Whitsun. It should be a tradition — maybe not the snake part, but singing Handel in a graveyard during Easter. (Even if it is a Lutheran graveyard.)
Our parents had their twenty-first anniversary.
Our mother went to New Hampshire for a week, and we survived.
My sister did driver’s ed. and passed, and has her permit now.
And I sent an e-mail I dithered about for a while, to a local arts council, to ask about something to do with a grant, and only realized afterward that I’d failed to capitalize “I” in the very first line.
Otherwise not much seems to have happened this month.