What is the insect army? Learn more here.
I know it doesn’t mean much coming from a barely published writer. But I know when the ranks are counted which side I want to be on.
“The problem is that the ‘vocal minority’ of insects who make up the new generation of writers don’t scramble for the shadows when outside lights shines on them—they bare their pincers and go for the jugular. Maybe it is a good thing that SFWA keeps them locked up. The newer members who Scalzi et al. brought in are an embarrassment to the genre.” — (name withheld) on SFF.net
Besides – Ursula Vernon!
I’d rather aspire to be a cockroach. Adapt and survive, fellow Glass Walkers.
First, the story note:
Story idea from a dream: Under a resort in the Balkans, on the Dalmatian coast, there is a cavern of crystal. The resort owners know it. So does the secret police.
They all work for the thing which lives inside the cave. They do its bidding because it keeps business going.
As for the writing…
Since officially setting a completion goal for Ivre, I’ve only gotten 7,700 words into my total 35,000. I’m barely getting 500 words an hour written when I can sit and focus for an hour. I’m cursing whatever horrible twist of neural development gave my attention span. I can’t seem to lose myself and just write. My brain won’t stop. It wanders down alleyways too often.
And the photography – I’m dreading going through the photos I took of my friend’s wedding. I shotgunned as much as possible in the hopes of getting something decent. I look at photographers who can take a small corner of a room and, with a little light, some drapery and imagination, turn it into a statement. No statements for me. Maybe it would help if I knew what I wanted to say…
A young woman/urban explorer breaks into a ruined antebellum mansion from her youth to confront a painting of a dark man with a wire-bristle mustache which terrified her as a child.