National Novel Writing Month kicks off in a few days, and I will be bellying up to the nanobar again and trying to get some words down amidst the madness of a work-heavy month. If you’re also attempting to climb the word mountain, you can find me under the username leebattersby.
For my sins, I’ve persuaded the Nanos-that-be to create a new region—Rockingham/Mandurah—and if you’re local to that region then sign on up: a certain little black duck has been named Municipal Liaison, and I’ll be organising a bunch of stuff across the month to keep us all amused.
I’ll also be working on something I’ve threatened for a while: Father Muerte And The Divine, the long-avoided-being-thunked-about Father Muerte novel. Fans of the series have permission to send kind thoughts in the direction of my computer….
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
SIGH. HALF OF THAT GENETIC MATERIAL COMES FROM ME…..
Connor runs into the reading room, throws himself onto his back on the floor and starts waving his arms and legs about, shouting “bubble bubble, bubble bubble”. Then he rolls over onto his face and lies very still. He does this three times, then yells “I’m pancakes!” and runs out of the room again.
I go quietly back to my book and try not to think about him choosing my nursing home….
As if that wasn't enough for the week, a couple of days later I wander into the kitchen to find Luscious laughing her shapely ass off. The young master has recently held the view that curly-haired people know everything. Why? a) because he has curly hair, and just possibly b) because his curly-haired father has told him so :)
So, in proving some arcane point of 5-year old’s knowledge to his mother, they have this conversation:
LYN: How do you know?
CONNOR: Curly haired people know everything.
LYN: But I’m your Mum.
CONNOR:Yes.
LYN: Mum’s know everything.
CONNOR:…..Yyyyessss…..
LYN: And I have straight hair.
CONNOR: Yes.
LYN: So how do I know everything if I don’t have curly hair?
CONNOR: (Pausing just long enough to trick his Mum into thinking she has him out-logicked). I've made you some!
De-FEATED!
I go quietly back to my book and try not to think about him choosing my nursing home….
As if that wasn't enough for the week, a couple of days later I wander into the kitchen to find Luscious laughing her shapely ass off. The young master has recently held the view that curly-haired people know everything. Why? a) because he has curly hair, and just possibly b) because his curly-haired father has told him so :)
So, in proving some arcane point of 5-year old’s knowledge to his mother, they have this conversation:
LYN: How do you know?
CONNOR: Curly haired people know everything.
LYN: But I’m your Mum.
CONNOR:Yes.
LYN: Mum’s know everything.
CONNOR:…..Yyyyessss…..
LYN: And I have straight hair.
CONNOR: Yes.
LYN: So how do I know everything if I don’t have curly hair?
CONNOR: (Pausing just long enough to trick his Mum into thinking she has him out-logicked). I've made you some!
De-FEATED!
GOD, DO I REALLY SOUND LIKE THAT?
Head on over to the fabulous Mister Keith Stevenson’s podcast website Terra Incognita, and not only can you enjoy listening to the likes of Jason Fischer and Margo Lanagan reading their own fine work, but you can download the latest podcast—issue 24 features me, reading Father Muerte & The Flesh, the story that won the inaugural Australian Shadows award back in the day, and the third of the four Father Muerte stories to have seen print. Given what I’m working on during Nanowrimo next month (about which, more in a minute), it’ll serve as a bit of a taster.
Go. Listen. Wonder how Luscious puts up listening to that voice day after day after day…..
Go. Listen. Wonder how Luscious puts up listening to that voice day after day after day…..
WORD
To my buddy Grant Stone, whose story Wood has been published in New Zealand’s premier SF market Semaphore. I worked on this story with Grant when he placed himself under my dubious care through the Australian Horror Writers Association mentorship scheme, and I’m pleased as punch to see it hit print, and also to note that it’s as creepy and icky-making as it was when he first sent it to me.
Go, read, enjoy, send him your creepy stalker love….
Go, read, enjoy, send him your creepy stalker love….
THANK GAWD THAT’S OVER!
What a bloody awful month and a bit that’s been! First Lyn’s sent to bed for a week with a filthy sort of chest infection. Then Connor ends up in hospital for a weekend with a weird sort of croupy thing the doctors can’t quite identify. Then Erin ends up in hospital (and just for fun, a completely different hospital) with pneumonia. Then I get a chest infection of my very own, and spend the next four weeks hacking my lungs up every time I giggle.
What a bloody laugh.
Thankfully, it’s all back to normal now, such as we is, and somewhere along the line it seems to have inspired the normally scary and frightful Martin Livings to get quite sweet in his old age, so all’s well that ends with a metric fuckload of tissues in the compost….
What a bloody laugh.
Thankfully, it’s all back to normal now, such as we is, and somewhere along the line it seems to have inspired the normally scary and frightful Martin Livings to get quite sweet in his old age, so all’s well that ends with a metric fuckload of tissues in the compost….
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