Some kind of Sunday

Pretty much just your average Sunday around here. I finished the Sunday crossword, and I went to my Sunday writing group, where I wrote this:

Good manners are everything, said Mathilde, even when — perhaps especially when — confronted with the slavering minions of the darkest underworld.

Roderick had to agree, begrudgingly, if only because he had seen the proof of Mathilde’s theories at work on previous occasions. He had accompanied her as diplomatic envoy to hell now several times, and although in her eyes he knew he was still little more than hired muscle, her father’s man through and through, there was little doubt in Roderick’s mind that heeding her now was their wisest course of action.

That didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

“Good manners is one fing, miss,” said the boy, Kairo, “but ain’t the sort of fing what’ll stop them beasties from eatin’ youse alive.” He eyed the door they’d barred behind them nervously. A pounding continued to echo from the other side. “Youse really fink we open up, they’s gonna just gonna parley, nice an’ peaceful-like?”

“If we establish terms,” replied Mathilde. “And if we pay the proper respects…then yes, I believe Lord Marbas and his attendants will see reason.”

“We’d best listen to her, boy,” said Roderick. “Either way, that door isn’t going to hold them off much longer.”

“We will need to address Marbas directly,” said Mathilde. “Appeal to his sense of honor, decorum; spilled blood is to no one’s benefit.”

“I still fink you’re starkers,” said Kairo.

“Well, certainly, we won’t open the door until a few strategic wards are in place,” said Mathilde. “Mr. Barnes, the rock salt and the good book, if you please.”

Yes, Roderick thought, he didn’t have to like it, but it was their only shot.

It’s altogether possible I’ve been watching too much Supernatural lately.

Of course, I did also receive a story rejection this morning, which is okay, and maybe wasn’t entirely unexpected given the flash piece in question, but is still disappointing. But the only thing to do is dust myself off and keep writing, try to find another home for this thing.

I do note, with some small level of satisfaction, that “writing” has moved into the “most used” post categories here on the blog. I’m going to have to do my best to keep it that way.

“I can be awkward.” “So can most of us.”

I woke up pretty late this morning, ran some errands — post office, haircut, bank — and then spent the rest of the day not doing a whole lot of anything. I mean, I filled the bird feeders in the yard — it’s quite chilly outside, but they don’t all fly south for the winter — and I watched a little television. (Fringe and a British show called Misfits.) I did a little writing — the story I’m working on proved surprisingly easy to get back into, after too long a hiatus — and did a little reading. And then this evening I watched Ondine, which was really quite lovely. Every now and then a movie like that — or In Bruges — comes along and reminds me that that Colin Farrell fellow can certainly act.

“I just really like talking about Farscape.”

I spent the day building book records in our system, running profit and loss calculations and researching competing products, doing a lot of data entry for some new proposals, with an eye towards contracting a couple of these books before the year is out. Or at least sending the contracts to the authors before I shut down my computer and put up an away message for the last two weeks of December. If you’re imagining the glamorous life of a book editor, chances are, this isn’t what you’re picturing.

But it’s Friday, which is always nice. The week went by weirdly fast, especially for a week that started off really slow. I guess it’s that whole “time is relative” and “eye of the beholder” thing again, but I had to stop a couple of times during the day and just confirm that it was indeed, truly the end of the week. Even now, I’m a little unsure. Am I going to wake up tomorrow only to discover I was supposed to go to work after all?

Well, until then, I’m acting under the assumption that it is, in fact, the weekend. I can always claim delusion afterward if I’m proven wrong.

I don’t have any real plans for the weekend, beyond maybe getting a haircut. I’d like to do some more writing, which I’ve been slacking off from recently, and there are a few things I’d like to read. Right now, I’m a little more than midway through Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Years of Rice and Salt, which I’m really enjoying a whole lot. But it is a long book, and it seems to be taking me quite a while to get through it. I’m only at 39 books for the year, and that’s including some novellas and graphic novels. I try to aim for at least 50, and I’m worried with only a few more weeks left, I’m not going to hit that target. And while you’d think two weeks off from work would leave me plenty of time to read, it also leaves me plenty of time to slack off and not get any reading done, which I am all too prone to. But I’m going to try.

This evening, though, I mostly just watched last night’s episode of Community, which may have been my favorite ever, and certainly one of the sweetest the show’s ever done. My geek brain nearly exploded when Abed started talking to guest star Paul F. Tompkins about Farscape.