Mockup of a little book, made from one sheet of paper. As a different kind of bookmark / postcard / promo piece. Still need to fiddle but nearly there.
I’m starting the painful process of migrating to a different email messaging service to reduce costs. This is an excellent problem to have, but I’m archiving old newsletters and tagging my list before I move it over and it’s also just work, the kind of work no one tells you about when you start this author journey.
But in going back through the 2016 newsletters (so long ago! such a different time!) I found this snapshot of my WIP list, and it made me reflect on all that’s happened between then and now … This was summer of 2016, so Harkworth Hall wasn’t even on my radar, as the election that provoked it was a vastly different race then. But what was encouraging about the list was how much of it did get written:
Talassio became Prima Materia, and while there’s still work to be done there I did indeed revise the Milan section and fine-tune the alchemy. Well Pt 1 has an outline now, and copious notes, but the voice is so particular to it I don’t see it happening until after the last Chase & Daniels novella gets written … so in the meantime I’ve taken a fancy journal I was gifted and I’m dumping everything Well-related in there, to keep it all in one place.
I don’t remember what IC project is. That’s gonna bug me now.
Al Niente got fixed, but then it got trunked. There’s a way to read that story which is the way I meant it, and there’s a way to read it which is harmful, and so it waits until I can tell it better.
Lissy Western became “To Us May Grace Be Given.” Spiders became “Gert of the Hundred” which is on submission now. Dummy was shelved because it was too similar to Westworld, but I keep returning to it in odd moments, so maybe it will happen after all. Writing as Painting was finished and published. X became “Xavier.” Magic/dementia became “The Sunrise Manor Routine.”
Writing takes so long you forget how much you’ve actually done, how many pages you’ve actually written and revised and revised and had critiqued and revised again and read aloud and polished and subbed over and over and over, until, at last, it’s out in the world.
Here, then, is my WIP list as of today (in equally dreadful handwriting, lol). Looking forward to revisiting it in December 2019.
From today’s writing:
It was the dream again:
I walked down narrow stone steps that slowly descended into darkness. The damp increased as I walked, moisture condensing on stone and skin alike. I breathed in warm wet air, letting it coat my tongue, I tasted brine and it made something stir deep in my belly. The further I walked the more clearly I heard the sounds of water lapping, and voices whispering unintelligible phrases, and something that I knew in my bones was the sound of a large, wet shape moving alongside me . . .
And just as I glimpsed the water’s surface and my own shadowed form, I awoke to find tears drying on my cheeks, and my body filled with a diffuse longing.
Georges would say: of course you would dream of water, you were born by the sea. He would say this, and pat me on the head, and tuck me back in as if I were still a child, though I could barely remember being such.
I have always been this person, this Ada.
And what I knew, what I dared not say to him but I knew in my heart, was that my dreams were not of long forgotten memories: they were of things to come.