![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Aug. 22nd, 2007 04:19 pmVirus and teaching make me very tired. Also a bit light-headed. If I weren't light-headed, why would I link you to this ring? The connection is that the blogger offering it as a prize is a friend and works hard and deserves much link-love.
Drabbit, I used 'link-love' - it makes me sound like a blogger. Today of all days I need to sound like an SF writer. I read some George Turner short stories last night and have decided that it's constitutionally impossible for me to sound like an SF writer. I'm struggling today against this sad realisation. All my writing is about people. When I put ideas into things, they're inevitably seen through the eyes of people. No hard edges or clarity of overview. No sharp purpose or great despite. Just people. I wonder if I can persuade the world that SF writers should have sounded like me all along and that the Heinleins and Egans and Brodericks and Asimovs all got it wrong?
Yes, my mind is viral, in many senses of the word. Yes, I promise I'll take large chunks of tomorrow off. Today, though, no matter how viralish I feel, I have one novel to critique and another one to keep drafting, and I have very limited energies for all the above. Plus my mind is vagrant and wandering.
I don't have a fever - I have a lack of oxygen to the brain. I measured it and my breathing is subnormal therefore my thinking is subnormal (there is, of course, an argument that the brain is often subnormal and the shortness of breath is a mere excuse). If I were the Ultimate Dictator, I would issue an order to all lungs to desist from inefficient operation. My writing would then make entire sense at all times. Life would be perfect.
Right now, life is so imperfect that I think I need a cup of tea.
Drabbit, I used 'link-love' - it makes me sound like a blogger. Today of all days I need to sound like an SF writer. I read some George Turner short stories last night and have decided that it's constitutionally impossible for me to sound like an SF writer. I'm struggling today against this sad realisation. All my writing is about people. When I put ideas into things, they're inevitably seen through the eyes of people. No hard edges or clarity of overview. No sharp purpose or great despite. Just people. I wonder if I can persuade the world that SF writers should have sounded like me all along and that the Heinleins and Egans and Brodericks and Asimovs all got it wrong?
Yes, my mind is viral, in many senses of the word. Yes, I promise I'll take large chunks of tomorrow off. Today, though, no matter how viralish I feel, I have one novel to critique and another one to keep drafting, and I have very limited energies for all the above. Plus my mind is vagrant and wandering.
I don't have a fever - I have a lack of oxygen to the brain. I measured it and my breathing is subnormal therefore my thinking is subnormal (there is, of course, an argument that the brain is often subnormal and the shortness of breath is a mere excuse). If I were the Ultimate Dictator, I would issue an order to all lungs to desist from inefficient operation. My writing would then make entire sense at all times. Life would be perfect.
Right now, life is so imperfect that I think I need a cup of tea.