Deborah Kalin's Blog, page 26

and they're all (well, mostly all) cousins

The proofs for Shadow Bound landed today. The fourteen-day forecast is therefore for sudden squalls of insanity, the occasional seagull impersonation, an inability to discuss any topic that does not immediately relate to (for example) the placement of commas, and a general air of abstraction and sleeplessness.

Although, the proof reader has won my undying love for the following comment in her cover letter:

This was a thoroughly absorbing read. Lots of urst (please cast Viggo Mortensen or Hugh...

dear story: you (still) suck

I don't know whether it's just approaching-the-end or it's-not-working, but I hate the short story.

I hate all my stories when I'm approaching the end of the draft, so it could be completely normal and nothing to be concerned about. On the other hand, the approaching-the-end hate is particularly difficult to tell apart from the it's-not-working hate, which happens when something deep and structural just isn't pulling together.

In fact, to make matters worse, the it's-not-working hate is...

she has a face!

Yesterday I suffered from sponge-brain caused by a criminal lack of sleep which, I don't mind telling you, is entirely Tripod's fault, for scheduling their show so late.1 (Although when I pointed this out to them, what did they go and do but thank me for making the effort to turn up! Who thanks people for being a teasing jerk? The boys from Tripod, obviously. Sorry, Mum — their mums obviously did a better job at instilling polite behaviour.)

(Also, said show was fantastic. I realise the...

the old man is snoring

Today it rained, and Melbourne forgot to wake up.

I ventured out into the darkness and the hissing rain, giving the trench coat it's first outing (even though it's not cold enough for a coat of any description yet), and found myself utterly alone.

No cars, no pedestrians, just me and the rain and the dark and islands of damp glare glancing off the wet bitumen under the streetlights.

For the entire walk to the tram stop, I seriously considered the possibility that my night's dreams of the paddle ...

'cause none of us are angels

Sometimes, you learn best from people you don't like.

Figure out what you want to do. Then figure out what you need to do to get there. Then do it.

This advice was given to me by a man I … don't really like.1 We've always had a complicated relationship, at best. But it remains one of the best pieces of advice I've ever been given.

I have an anxious sort of brain, when all is said and done. I'm constantly thinking ahead — contingency planning, if you will. When I want to do something...

so many places to visit, and re-visit; so little rec leave

People, what is wrong with you? I tell you I'm going to Mongolia, and you make no comment?1 Perhaps it's because I put it right at the bottom of the post, and very few of you made it that far. Here, let me fix that.

I'M GOING TO MONGOLIA.

Travel insurance is purchased, flights are almost entirely paid for, and today I jaunted off to the doctor to discuss vaccinations. Did you know that Hep A + B, if you get the right number of shots at the right time, is lifetime protection? I did not know...

what the heart wants, the head fears

This evening, after a flurry of emails throughout the day between the travel agent and myself, and many tweakings and confirmings of dates, I am in possession of a quote for an entire overseas holiday. Flights, accommodation, transfers, and insurance.

And about ten minutes ago I had a moment of sheer, blindness-inducing terror, because I couldn't possibly actually go through with it.

But you know what? It's simply not true. (Dear Brain Chemistry: I'm onto you. Stop it!)

I would have the same...

methinks it is time to up the fitness levels

Yesterday I revised 1,300(ish) words on the short story, and stalked travel agents to obtain quotes for airfares, which means the travel plans, while not yet concrete, are progressing apace. I survived a trip with the world's most passive-aggressive tram driver, who shuts the tram doors while passengers are mid-way through them and drives into cars who dare to block his way. I also went and saw The Pixies live, and consequently will never hear anything ever again. (It was worth it.) On the...

i am, yes, still listening to every decemberists song ever

Sshh, don't tell anyone, it's not definite or booked or anything so exciting as that, but … I did spend an awful lot of my day thinking about other continents. Specifically, me, kiting myself off to other continents. Where there are no phones. (Although I have just googled airfares and, oh, fark. Um…?)

I also have news of covers and illustrations and publications (not new ones — don't get too excited) sort of simmering away over here, but I'm not allowed to share any of them just yet. So...

i close my eyes and i keep seeing things

Here's a terrifying thought: It's officially beyond 2000 already, quite some way beyond it if we're going to get pedantic, and apparently the very best we can do … is Yarra Trams.

That thought is so replete with weltschmerz that I think I need a little lie-down and some quiet time.