It’s something like 80% humidity outside, which is pretty appalling. Humidity is the one weather aspect of Minnesota I really cannot stand and hate having to put up with (I like the hail, tornadoes, thunderstorms, torrential rains, etc, etc). I’m sitting here sticky and a bit sweaty. Cleaning around the house was the worst.
This time of year, I wind up drinking less tea. A pot in the morning, to get my day going. And usually one at night. You say “what about iced tea?” and I say “No thank you.” I just cannot get on with iced tea.
I’ve been doing about four pages a day the past few days. Working on a short story that I started before Nathan was born, and have now picked back up on. One wonderful result of handwriting stories is that I never lose ’em. computer-writing them, they’re too much of-the-moment for me, so that if I come back to it a few days later and my mood has changed, or my music, or whatever, I can have lost the story.
Handwriting, I sit back down to write and the tone and mood and point of the story is all there.
For me anyway.
Finished watching Sherlock Holmes last night, about which I cannot say enough wonderful things. That was a seriously terrific film, willing to be dark and crude and rough and dirty, willing not to idolize Sherlock Holmes himself. It put together a really good plot, and everyone acting in it did a top-notch job. I could go on and on (and did, in an e-mail, last night). I really hope we get more.
It left me thinking characters in the vein of Holmes. There’s Sherlock Holmes, there’s Dr. Gregory House, there’s Doctor Who. They’re all interesting characters, sure, and they work best when their own towering intelligence is sort of working against them. They all need a Watson, someone who does keep up with them intellectually for the most part, but who can also remember to turn off the stove.
I also watched a two and a half hour special for Hellboy II, and by the end of it, I think Guillermo del Toro had become one of my favoritest filmmakers. But that’s actually a whole blog post in and of itself.
I don’t know precisely how long this short story is that I’m working on, but it’s fairly long and getting longer. I’ve stopped working on everything else while trying to finish it. I really like it. I’m always slightly nervous that it’ll come out in that weird novella range that is pretty tough to sell…but I don’t care if it does. I’m just thinking about the story itself.
It’s interesting, in that it only has one sharp moment of horror in it, at the end. The rest of the story is fairly quiet and literary, just a lot of looks at these people’s lives and pasts. But it would be too much of a whiplash moment if there was Literary Literary Literary HORROR literary…so there are these uneasy tension cables running through the stories. Little moments, little things he notices. None of which are quite hinting at the Horror Moment to come, but all of which are slightly on edge. It’s like the unsettling camera angle that the everyday-life scene is being filmed at, in a good horror film. The long, low bass hum in the background of a movie scene that lets you know All is Not Well and something is about to happen.
I also have had fun sitting down and coming up with the carnival act for a pair of conjoined brothers, whose act revolves around electricity.
It’s getting darker out. Not that dark. I love those afternoons when a very bad storm comes in, and suddenly it’s nearly dusk out, it’s so dark. Twelve noon, and all the street lights and signs come on. I adore those.
This is just a darkening before what I suspect will be a fairly minor thunderstorm. A little lightning, a few rumbles of thunder. Nothing to make anyone nervous. Just enough to tease me slightly.
Well, it’ll kill the humidity for a little bit, at any rate.
And now I’m off to eat ice cream with my parents, then put the kids down for a nap and write write write. I want to be doing five pages a day. I’m nearly there.