Writing…

Had a pretty decent writing day today — 2,500 words.  Have been submitting my work to journals of late for the first time in a while.  There are still many, many unpublished pieces on my HD I’d like to get out there…

I finished reading Hell House and started Steve Erickson’s Days Between Stations, with the intention of reading B. Evenson’s Immobility very soon.  I also have another Richard Matheson book on order, which I’m looking forward to.  As for classes, I’m still determining what I’ll ultimately assign next term.  Thinking S. Millhauser and T. O’Brien, though this could change.

At any rate, I’m happy to be writing work that is longer than 1,000 words again, though I do so love the flash fiction form (for so many reasons).  Feel like a new novella (my favorite form, though impossible to find publishers…) could be waiting to be put down on paper before year’s end.

~m

The Sound of Music…

Between dental appointments, grading papers, and watching my daughter — and strongly influenced by my night of karaoke with some friends the other night — I compiled 26 of my all-time favorite “pop” (i.e. vocal*) tracks by 26 different artists.  Two hours and six minutes’ worth of music that fits nicely onto two CD-Rs.  Artists include David Bowie, Pink Floyd, Swans, Thread, Sparklehorse, The Walker Brothers, Radiohead, Skinny Puppy, Kate Bush, Tori Amos, etc.  Having listened to the entire thing now, I feel different.  Transformed.  My daughter seemed to like it as well.  The first half put her to sleep (though it is fairly upbeat).  The second half, she bopped around to.  Powerful stuff, music.

~m

* Lately, I’ve been listening to a lot of instrumental music.  Neo-classical, ambient, drone, etc.  Stars in the Lid, that sort of thing.  So this was quite a shift in style from recent compilations I’ve made.  I do find that good pop music does still move me, which, I think, is a good thing.  Kate Bush’s “Hello Earth,” for example, definitely has the power to make me teary-eyed.

All I Can Remember

“I do not remember what character eventually came out of the hat with blood on his hands, but i do remember that I decided never to read another mystery story and never to write another mystery story; never, as a matter of fact, to write anything ever again.  I had already decided finally that I was never going to be married and certainly would never have any children.  It may have been about that time that I came to believe that being a private detective was the work I was meant to do.”

~ Shirley Jackson: All I Can Remember