babarnett: (torchwood ianto monday)
1) My story "God's Gift to Women" is now up on Daily Science Fiction's website for your reading pleasure/critical dismemberment. It's flash length, so it's a quick read. In other words, if you haven't read it already, what's the holdup?

2) Over the weekend I got a look at the TOC for Wilde Stories 2011: The Year's Best Gay Speculative Fiction, which puts me in some rather fine company:

"Love Will Tear us Apart" by Alaya Dawn Johnson
"Map of Seventeen" by Chris Barzak
"How to Make Friends in Seventh Grade" by Nick Poniatowski
"Mortis Persona" by Barbara A. Barnett
"Mysterium Tremendum" by Laird Barron
"Oneirica" by Hal Duncan
"Lifeblood" by Jeffrey Ricker
"Waiting for the Phone to Ring" by Richard Bowes
"Blazon" by Peter Dubé
"All the Shadows" by Joel Lane
"The Noise" by Richard Larson
"How to Make a Clown" by Jeremy C. Shipp
"Beach Blanket Spaceship" by Sandra McDonald
"Hothouse Flowers: or The Discreet Boys of Dr. Barnabas" by Chaz Brenchley

Of the short stories I've read over the past year, Alaya Dawn Johnson's "Love Will Tear Us Apart" was one of my absolute favorites, so getting to appear alongside it adds an extra dollop of awesome to the awesome sauce that was being included in this book in the first place.

3) As I've mentioned before, my muse is a surly plumber named Jim Bob. A friend recently posted a link to this comic, which makes Jim Bob look like quite the charmer in comparison. (potentially NSFW, especially if you go poking around the rest of the website)
babarnett: (farscape aeryn whatever)
2011 and I do not seem to have gotten off on the right foot.  These last two days have been rather strong with the FUBAR side of the Force, but it's all stupid trivial crap which has the added annoyance of making me feel bad for wanting to complain because it's, well, stupid trivial crap.

Trying to look to the positive: this week will likely continue to be all manner of FUBAR, but next week I'll be a part-time, working-from-home gal again.  Hopefully that will mean some time to start a new short story.  My silly poll for which idea I should tackle next ended in a tie between the My Big Fat Epic Fantasy Novel prequel and the town where dying is forbidden.  That means my muse, Jim Bob, has the tie-breaking vote.  He just glanced at his tool belt, belched, and told me we've got the tools and materials already set out for the MBFEFN story, so we should work on that.  And then he belched again.
babarnett: (firefly shiny kaylee)
1) I've got a shiny new look to my website at [Poll #1661746]
*I reserve the right to totally change my mind should my muse, Jim Bob, show up and offer me a better idea. 
babarnett: (puppet angel)
My internal writerly compass has been feeling a little on the broken side.  Perhaps my muse, being a surly plumber named Jim Bob, has some sort of magnetic contraption in his tool kit that's throwing my readings off.

I know we're generally our own worst critics, but lately I've been trusting my own judgment even less than usual.  Why does this story click while this other one that I thought was equally awesome doesn't?  Clearly there's a difference, but it beats the hell out of me what that difference is.  And Jim Bob ain't helping.  He's crouched down under the sink with his butt crack showing, muttering, "I'm the idea guy.  What you do with them's your problem."
And then the judgment distrust starts trickling down from the macro to the micro level as I write.  Does this scene actually work?  I think so, but I also thought that other thing worked before all those responses suggested otherwise.  And what about this paragraph? And this transition?  What about that sentence? Or that word?  This bit of punctuation?  Am I even writing in English?

With all of that going on in my head, I've ended up writing only about 800 words over the last four weeks.  That's a bit pathetic.  Normally I could excuse that by saying revisions are generally slower, but since where I'm currently at with My Big Fat Epic Fantasy Novel involved writing a whole new scene that I should have been able to spew out fairly quickly (the aforementioned 800 words), my excuse is kind of crap.

Time to see if I can get a good deal on a new compass, or at least figure out what's screwing my current one up.  If it's not Jim Bob messing with it, then I suspect my internal editor.  She's been looking a little shifty lately.


babarnett: (Default)

December 2013



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