I fixed my own galdamn laptop. I repaired Windows 2k, reinstalled office... And now it's rarin to go.
Thus, this weekend, I did a complete rewrite of 'Moving, Interrupted', and the final story clocks in at just under 3000 words. I think the opening is a hell of a lot stronger. Essentially, this is a surreal horror story about my own fears involving trying to get settled into a house. No bloodshed whatsoever, and it almost plays like comedy taken just a step too far.
I did a ground up rewrite of the latter half of 'Yes, We Have No Bananas'. I'd catalog this as an sf story, as it relies to a large degree on a scientific extrapolation of a current issue. Essentially, due to a terribly adaptive fungus and a new strain of Panama disease virus, there is a threat of bananas being wiped out in the next ten years. This is the fact, from here I spun a tale about two brothers, swarms of illegal aliens, manipulative parents, and the sacrifices involved in achieving dreams. At first it was a very basic story, but I happened upon a nice little twist which added some depth to it, yesterday. Tonight I will read and edit it, revise and get it ready for mailing.
I got a nice rejection letter for 'Uno Dinero', my January Calender Girl story. Thievin' Kitty productions took several lines to reinforce the fact that it was a good story, just not horror enough for their mag *The Edge* -- which makes sense, since it is more of a straight ahead crime story. Maybe I'll try another spot. This is a classic femme fatale story, with a couple of nice twists. Essentially, the "deadly woman" Enero planned to murder her husband, then the sucker went and bit the wax tadpole through an honest to shit accident; since she wasn't crying, and the intent to kill him was there, the detective in charge just won't drop the case. So, Enero figures out a way to one up him, by calling in a favor from an old boyfriend. Wouldn't you know it, things get all mucked up, conflicts and revelations abound, and in the end we've got three hundred gees of money stolen from Evidence, another dead body, and probably one of the worst tasks a person can be given.
I wrote up a world catalog -- that is a bible for an sf setting which posits how mainstream cybernetic enhancements will affect forensic investigations. It started with me wondering "What is CSI like in William Gibson/Bruce Sterling/John Shirley's cyberpunk mileaus?" I've got an outline and three handwritten pages for the first in a possible series of stories.
Calender Girl 3 has a firm story, a nice opening, and a driving motivation. I need to sit down, flesh out the tale and figure out the story's end. It promises to be nicely nasty; it's my spin on the obsessive stalker archetype, who is in turn stalked by a Girl with Connections.
Calender Girl 2 is demanding a ground up, reimagined revision. What was a story about a rivalry between two strippers looks like it is transforming into a rivalry between two nurses over a comatose patient.
I finished my three reviews for Project: Greenlight. This Friday, I find out how badly my little script got massacred by the reviewers.
Saw two movies, Triplets of Belleville -- which was wonderful -- and Dawn of the Dead -- which wasn't. Dawn could have been cool, and it was all right, but it lacked the underlying layers of satire and driving meaning the original sported. As zombie flicks go, not all that bad. As films go, pretty much a waste. There are several wonderful shots, but the story lacks those echoes of the universe (as well as characters who are more than just archetypes; though I must say Ving Rhames playing Ving Rhames in a cop's uniform kicked quite a lot of ass!). I was so depressed going to sleep that night, I wondered if I had finally outgrown the horror genre -- since many of the horror novels I've been reading and the horror flicks I've been watching have been such let downs. I then realized, no, I've just outgrown crap. *The Eye* a Japanese horror film is playing at the Bijou this weekend, part of their Late Night Cinema program. I look forward to it, since the Japanese make the best horror movies, these days.
Got two schweet books in the mail last week: *Liquor* by Poppy Z. Brite (most excellent; I've still got a third of the book to go, and I already feel it's her best book yet, with no horror whatsoever; compelling characters and lots of New Orleans food...) and *Sunset and Sawdust* by Joe R. Lansdale (next up on the docket).
Saturday was a party to end all parties at Dharia's place. Lesbians, gays, heteros; good music, good food, good booze; spills and spankings and political discussions; there really was something for everyone. I had a ball.
Kat tells us she wants to have a party for her birthday, this June. If it approaches the size of the party at Dharia's, I wonder what our downstairs neighbors will say...
Now it's lunchtime. Gotta go!