After living off of macaroni and cheese for two days and hiding behind a triple-locked door, I was relieved to see city emergency crews making the circuit of the neighborhood and advising residents that the temporary quarantine had been lifted. Yeah, quarantine, as if it was a virulent flu or something.
We know better.
And so do the people who also got the word out during the weekend. Over at Underwords Press, fellow Viable Paradise alum Erin Underwood did a terrific job collecting all the eye-witness accounts. Brave lady. Thank god we all made it out okay.
Speaking of Viable Paradise, there’s a whole new crew of talented folks that have been picked by the staff and are at the island right now. They have passed through the door to their week apart from the world. I’m not alone in getting nostalgic — the mailing list for our year has lit up with folks sharing memories of a week none of us were prepared for and none of us would give up. I have thoughts, lots of them, competing with each other. I blogged about VP last year when I came back, but I’ll likely be blogging about it again soon. It’s damn hard to not get melodramatic about it. I’ve just deleted the cheesiest line, we’re talking full on cheddar, to spare you the worst of it.
In the meantime, while I struggle to compose my VP thoughts, I struggle with my WIPs. I printed out the entirety of STAR DOOR, a lovely satisfying stack of first draft goodness coming in at 426 pages, giving weight to all the electrons I’ve gathered up. Meanwhile, I’m trying a sideways approach with the BLOOD v3.0 revision. It’s being sly with me, so I figure time to be sly with it and weasel my way into the narrative through some epistolary free-writing in different character point of views. I keep setting dates and goals for myself, but until I actually get pulled back in and the writing has started, those are all soft goals with no teeth to them.