I use bloglines to keep track of the blogs that I read. That way I don’t have to stop by constantly to see if they are updated. It’s handy. A little notifier just lights up in the bottom of my screen that someone has updated I can check in whenever I want.

Sound like a convert? I am. Where’s the lemonade?

Well, this is old news, but it came to mind because I was RSVPing for the Fourth of July party that the embassy is throwing. Back in March, the US Ambassador visited the set.

Unfortunately, that’s not David in the photo. There are an amazing number of photos of David floating around the internet, which are all of someone else. It’s sort of astonishing. I think he secretly enjoys it.

In one of those moments where one plays with technology as a form of procrastination, I created a LiveJournal community for Shimmer Magazine

It’s pretty sparse, but there’s a poll up right now about the stories in the Spring issue. Care to let use know what you think?

I started my Dr. Who story today. It’s going smoothly thus far. I did have to pause in the middle of it to look at photos of the Charles Bridge, where a lot of my action takes place. I had researched it when I wrote the synopsis, but needed to get a better handle on it. Funny, most photos are from the top or side. It’s hard to find pictures of underneath a bridge.

I just finished another story. This one is short, 1100 words. God. It feels so good to write. I had this conversation with Ken Scholes the other day, and realized that despite my connection with Codex and Shimmer, I miss having someone to shoot the breeze with about a story. We talked about “Ginger” and the story unlocked for me. Then I hit Codex and Hatrack and figured out where I was going with that. After I finished it, I was so jazzed that I just cranked out another story.

Have I mentioned that it feels good?

So. Things I have learned about myself and writing. Some of these are recent, some are not.

1. If I don’t read, I don’t write.
2. At some point in my creative process, I need people. I’m a performer, and it doesn’t go away just because I’m writing.
3. I need stimulation; talking to people, movies, cooking, hiking…anything to refuel, or I don’t write.
4. I can’t write when I’m angry. My brain gets eaten with “I should have saids…”

There’s probably more, but those were the ones that struck me. Oh, and when I edit, I have to read it outloud or I miss really stupid stuff like “She picked up a a coal scuttle.” Geez. Anyway, here’s the new story’s opening.

Locked In

     Samuel sat on the balcony, enjoying the fading light of day. When the respirator pushed air into his lungs, he savored the salt brine from the sea. He tried to pretend that he had some control over breath, that he chose to inhale, but it was a fantasy as idle as wishing that he could adjust his own chair.
     For a moment, his nurse’s hand interrupted his field of vision. She paused with her hand on his open eyelid, and then pushed down so he could blink. Before Amyotropic Lateral Sclerosis had locked him in his own body, Samuel had told her that he wanted a warning before blinking.
     It would be nice to thank her, but he had lost the last of his voluntary abilities months ago.
     ”Dad!” Jacob’s voice behind him startled Samuel but he lacked the release of flinching.

Shimmer made the list for Clarkesworld Bestsellers for the Week Ending June 25, 2006! Woo-hoo!

Magazines
1 - Weird Tales
2 - Fantasy & Science Fiction
3 - Paradox
4 - Asimov’s
5 - Shimmer

Nothing much today. I got to take care of some errands, like running the car to the rental agency so they can replace the brake pad. I spent the rest of the day writing. I finished one story and worked on editing it.

After some excellent feedback at Hatrack, this is the current opening. If anyone has any thoughts to share, I’d love to hear them. I’m particuarly interested in your impressions of what will follow. What promises do you expect me to fulfill?

Ginger Stuyvesant and the Case of the Haunted Nursery

     The quarter-mile driveway from the main road to Fairbairn Hall flashed by in a tunnel of green. Ginger Stuyvesant knew her hair would be in a state when she arrived, but Lillian’s telegram had sounded urgent.
     When she pulled the Morris-Cowley around the circular drive, a liveried manservant came down the stairs as if he still expected to take the reins of a horse. These Brits had such queer, old-fashioned ways. She pulled off her cloche, hoping it had controlled the worst of the damage to her Marcel wave.
     ”Ginger, darling! Thank heavens you’ve come.” In a flurry of lace and satin, Lillian Rhodes hurried down the stairs. Even in the daylight, circles of fear rippled through her aura.
     Ginger embraced her university friend. “Of course! Haunted nursery? Your first born child? How could I not come?”

Now, if you have time to read all 6500 words of it and comment–the commenting is key–let me know.

I feel totally triumphant. I had to make arrangements to pick up Audrey tomorrow and actually managed to do it in Icelandic. Granted, I figured out what I wanted to say beforehand and wrote it down as a script, but still! I spoke and was understood.

We’ve just been given a lovely review at Tangent Online for our third issue of Shimmer.

This issue of Shimmer is full of the well-written slipstream and interstitial stories that show why the magazine has become a favorite with both the fans and the critics.

Read the review; buy the magazine.

I just read The Fortean Bureau: There Once was a Girl from Nantucket (A Fortean Love Story)
by Ken Scholes and John A. Pitts It’s wonderful. Read it.

All three hours of it. We went to the hot river with a group from work. It’s about an hour drive from Reykjavik and then an hour hike up into the mountains, but so worth it when you get there. Rob had to work late, so we got there about two hours after everyone else. This first photo is what it looked like at ten o’clock.

On the way up, we passed some sheep. They were cute.

I did mention that we were climbing up a mountain, right? Rob agreed to stand in to try to provide a sense of scale. It’s still hard to get a sense of it. By the way, these photos were taken at about eleven o’clock.

When we arrived at the hot river everyone else was already soaking. How do I describe this…? It’s a river, and it’s well, hot. I mean, like a hot tub. But it’s a river and we were on a mountain and it was cold. Except for the river. Which was hot. So amazing, I can only say the same things over and over again.

Actually, that might have more to do with the fact that I haven’t gone to bed yet.

So, I’ll leave you with a shot of the midnight hour. It never got darker than this.

Now I’ll be smart and go to bed. It’s just hard, because it’s light out.

Today is the longest day of the year. The sun will rise at 2:57 and set at 12:02. Even though it dips below the horizon, it doesn’t go far enough for Reykjavík to get truly dark. I don’t know what we will do, but I hope we will go someplace to watch the sun flirt with the horizon. We’re talking about going to the hot river, but it depends on the weather.

I love this website.

Modern Mechanix » CHEATING DEATH for a LIVING This is an article by an early stuntman written in 1935.

Not much excitement today. I did a live hand for Ziggy, but wasn’t attached to the puppet. It was just a closeup of a handshake. I also assisted Julie for a scene with her, David and Magnus. The most exciting part of today was that Kahlua made chocolate chip cookies and brought them in. It’s the little things that you appreciate most.

Just in case my endorsements of Iceland aren’t enough, you can check out Iceland’s Ring Road: The Ultimate Road Trip in New York Times.