I'm a Liar 07/09/2009
Yes, I've been picked for the very splendid Liar's League. My story The King's Pleasure is going to be read out by an actor (or possibly actress, I don't know yet) on Tuesday. I haven't heard anything of mine read aloud by someone else for years. Not since my less-than-stellar attempts at writing for the stage, back some time in the Jurassic.
It's a rather strange and decadent story; I was obviously in that sort of mood. But I'll be the third member of The T Party to have a piece performed at the Liar's League, and since the previous stories were Sumit Dam's The Man With the Musical Penis and Sarah Ellender's The Torture Orchestra, I think I can be considered to be upholding the standard for...well, something. Oddity, perhaps.
I'm currently rewriting the latest novel. This is actually quite fun, though frustrating at times. Inner Editor, finally off the leash, will insist on pointing out that what I thought was a particularly fine and amusing turn of phrase is actually out of character, slows things down and wasn't very funny to start with. Sigh. She can be such a beyatch.
I'm also trying to work out a way of either manufacturing time, compressing sleep so it takes less than seven hours to ensure non-zombiedom, or writing more. I could write on the train, I know I could. But since the current novel contains a few scenes of a, shall we say, less than entirely chaste nature, including some interspecies bonking, I have become strangely shy about writing in public. Silly, really, since I live in the fond hope that one day lots of people will read it. These people (bless their cotton socks wherever they may be) will then be aware that I've written about (gasp) sex, but somehow that's more bearable than the thought of someone you share a daily trainride with leaning over your shoulder while you actually type the words. Funny thing, embarrassment.