Because the world is full of randomly awesome things, and the Internet helps you find them:
The South Bank Lion, photo & history here
, another photo here
. He's not made of stone, but of something called Coade stone
, which was perfected in 1770 by Eleanor Coade
--the Wikipedia article points out that she did not invent
Coade stone, but she made it into something that could produce the South Bank Lion, who's been around, in one place or another, since 1837.
My spies, a.k.a. mirrorthaw
, tell me that "Coyote Gets His Own Back
" came in second in Apex Magazine
's 2012 Story of the Year Readers Poll
, behind tied-for-first-place Alethea Kontis and Katharine Duckett
This has reminded me that I should make a post about the things I published in 2012. So here you go:
Bourke, Angela. The Burning of Bridget Cleary
. 1999. New York: Penguin Books, 2001.
King, David. Death in the City of Light: The Serial Killer of Nazi-Occupied Paris
. New York: Broadway Paperbacks-Random House, 2011.
Roughead, William. Classic Crimes
. New York: New York Review Books, 2000.
Summerscale, Kate. The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective
. New York: Walker & Co., 2008.
( Bourke, The Burning of Bridget ClearyCollapse )
( Roughead and SummerscaleCollapse )
( King, Death in the City of LightCollapse )
So, one of the pieces of writing advice I tend to endorse is the idea that you need to write every day, or as close to it as you can manage. And I still think it's true, or at least helpful, to think of writing as something you have to practice frequently and regularly, like music or baseball or dressage.
But I swear to god I had no idea how hard it is.
I knew about how hard it could be to find the time, especially if you have the pieces of a real life to try to assemble around it. And I knew how hard it could be when you felt like there were no words in your head, even when you had time to write them down.
I stopped blogging last year because of tendinitis in my right thumb (and, yes, that word really is spelled correctly, wrong though it looks) and carpal tunnel issues and the fact that my day job was all data entry. Thumb and wrists have improved, especially if I am NOT STUPID; temporary day job, being temporary, ended in November, and I am still waiting for another assignment; it seems like this would be the perfect time to write things: An Apprentice to Elves, for example, or Thirdhop Scarp, or any of a score of other projects.
But then there's the Restless Leg Syndrome, which revved up about the time my day job ended and has been relentless ever since. I learned in 2010 that creativity and RLS exist in inverse proportion to each other; in 2012 I learned that not only does RLS scour the creativity out of my head, but on the occasions when I do manage to write something, or to think seriously about writing something, it also deploys the worst of all the inner voices any writer (or artist or musician or anyone who loves what they do) can be afflicted with, the one that says, That's stupid. No one wants to read that. God, that's just puerile. This isn't working. The more words you put into it, the worse it's getting. Stop before you destroy whatever good you'd managed at all.
I know that voice is a liar. But I'm also tired and stressed and unhappy (see above re: neither job nor writing), and you know, that write every day advice seems smug and self-satisfied, and dear god don't you think I would if I could?
My RLS specialist and I are working on adjusting my medications. I am trying to get the things done that I can and not to beat myself up about the fact that right now there are things that I can't.
But it may be a while before I'm blogging regularly again. Thank you for your patience.
may it be very happy!
Also, as a sort of Whatever-You-Celebrate-If-Anything present, episode 19 of the SF Squeecast, Delicious Delicious Sin
, is live, in which, as the Very Special Guest, I inveigle everyone into talking about Sherlock Holmes.
Also, ZooBorns has posted their Top 25
, which includes a link to the flickr stream
of In Cherl Kim, which includes a flourish of fabulous fennec fox photographs
So anyway. Happy whatever! from the Upper Midwest where we are currently snowed in and listening to the Lumineers.