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Jun. 7th, 2006 09:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceA brief list - of varying significance, and in no particular order - of things that Chaz likes:
leaving the back door open all day, so that Barry and I can come and go independently;
reliably writing two thousand words a day, every day;
finding that Barry asserts his independence for, oh, ten minutes at a time, then comes to check up on me;
catching up with an old friend who flies in from Berlin after seventeen years;
watching Barry watch nature programmes on the telly (ooh! birdies! kill!);
being given chilli plants unexpectedly, in this year of crisis;
scoring my first professional science fiction sale (of which more later), which gives me the full hand of SF/F/H, at least in short stories (so now I just have to write the SF novel)(and sell it);
repotting chillies and mints into my own fabulous compost.
A mercifully briefer - but probably more significant - list of things that Chaz does not like:
finding greenfly even on the new chillies, even after just one day (anyone know a charm against aphids? I've tried everything else...);
the ineluctable loom of impending financial catastrophe, which current busyness is too late to forestall (indeed, I have a theory that current busyness is actually just displacement, to stop me thinking about the real world too much);
the fact that the last five days of current busyness have been spent not on the novel, but on a short story that I'm not even getting paid for, that is currently a baggy, sloppy, shapeless mass of undifferentiated text, which it will take another couple of days that I can't afford to salvage into anything remotely resembling what I need, assuming that it's not beyond saving altogether. Bleah.
leaving the back door open all day, so that Barry and I can come and go independently;
reliably writing two thousand words a day, every day;
finding that Barry asserts his independence for, oh, ten minutes at a time, then comes to check up on me;
catching up with an old friend who flies in from Berlin after seventeen years;
watching Barry watch nature programmes on the telly (ooh! birdies! kill!);
being given chilli plants unexpectedly, in this year of crisis;
scoring my first professional science fiction sale (of which more later), which gives me the full hand of SF/F/H, at least in short stories (so now I just have to write the SF novel)(and sell it);
repotting chillies and mints into my own fabulous compost.
A mercifully briefer - but probably more significant - list of things that Chaz does not like:
finding greenfly even on the new chillies, even after just one day (anyone know a charm against aphids? I've tried everything else...);
the ineluctable loom of impending financial catastrophe, which current busyness is too late to forestall (indeed, I have a theory that current busyness is actually just displacement, to stop me thinking about the real world too much);
the fact that the last five days of current busyness have been spent not on the novel, but on a short story that I'm not even getting paid for, that is currently a baggy, sloppy, shapeless mass of undifferentiated text, which it will take another couple of days that I can't afford to salvage into anything remotely resembling what I need, assuming that it's not beyond saving altogether. Bleah.