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| Words Total | 98,500 |
Short Story Stats:
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Monday,
January 31, 2005
Aw, hell
So
I'm innocently sitting there, listening to the replay of "Pompeii:
The Last Day" and working on a quilt, as you do, when my Muse decided
to pop in from her beach in Bali and drop a freaking NOVELLA on me about a man
who gets roped into helping his widowed sister-in-law and her adopted daughter
when the daughter develops leukemia and needs a bone marrow transplant from
a relative. Fortunately, the girl has a brother. Unfortunately, he died, along
with the historian's temporal physicist brother. . .during the pyroclastic flow
that buried Pompeii.
Yep, it's another time-travel story, and I don't have TIME to do the research for another time travel story right now, dammit -- I already have another novella (Best Protect" for Yard Dog Press), an essay for Benbella, a novel and a slew of short stories all awaiting my attention, not to mention the day job and the various items I'm putting together for people. I tried to explain this to the Muse, but she just kept swigging her Mai Tai and babbling cheerfully about crooked Roman officials, slave girls with secrets, field blood tests and all the pathos of walking through a city that you know will be utterly destroyed in a couple of days, not to mention the heartwrenching possibility of saving someone when all hope was thought to be lost.
The bitch. I'm putting it in the "possible" file, to be revisited when I have more time.
Oh, speaking of the day job, things are going to swing into serious high gear this week, so if I'm scarce, please excuse it and rest assured that I'll be back as soon as time permits.