Last night did not in fact contain very much sleep. It was unexpected and upsetting. Late in the morning, Autolycus shared a pillow with me and purred consolingly. When I woke and began to pet him, he kneaded my head in a kind of mutual grooming. He is a very, very good cat.
When I finally slept, I dreamed in two layers: that my husband's coworkers at the Somerville Theatre came over to see if I was all right (which was thoughtful of them but confusing, especially since we were living in a completely different apartment) and when I fell asleep after they had gone, that a door opened into a world full of sea. No land in sight, just towering metallic-blue waves and a sun so strong, it made the miles and miles of ocean look like overexposed film. No boats, even. Whatever was there, it was all beneath the surface.
I am very pleased to announce that my story "All Our Salt-Bottled Hearts" has been accepted by Lynne Jamneck for Dreams from the Witch House: Female Voices of Lovecraftian Horror (Dark Regions Press, 2015). Because of the way the last few months have gone, it was essentially written in one overcrowded work week, mostly to a rotating soundtrack of Boston punk and Hector Zazou's Chansons de Mers Froides/Songs from the Cold Seas (1995). It's an Innsmouth story, of course. I am indebted to Amal El-Mohtar for the title. I am really looking forward to the anthology.
When I finally slept, I dreamed in two layers: that my husband's coworkers at the Somerville Theatre came over to see if I was all right (which was thoughtful of them but confusing, especially since we were living in a completely different apartment) and when I fell asleep after they had gone, that a door opened into a world full of sea. No land in sight, just towering metallic-blue waves and a sun so strong, it made the miles and miles of ocean look like overexposed film. No boats, even. Whatever was there, it was all beneath the surface.
I am very pleased to announce that my story "All Our Salt-Bottled Hearts" has been accepted by Lynne Jamneck for Dreams from the Witch House: Female Voices of Lovecraftian Horror (Dark Regions Press, 2015). Because of the way the last few months have gone, it was essentially written in one overcrowded work week, mostly to a rotating soundtrack of Boston punk and Hector Zazou's Chansons de Mers Froides/Songs from the Cold Seas (1995). It's an Innsmouth story, of course. I am indebted to Amal El-Mohtar for the title. I am really looking forward to the anthology.
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