Karavansara

East of Constantinople, West of Shanghai


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Dictation, or, how I hit 3500 words per hour and kept going

I started dictating my stories to Google Docs.
The basic idea: we talk a lot faster than we type, so we can essentially dictate a rough first draft a lot faster than we can type it.
This is one of the nifty ideas in Chris Fox’s excellent little handbook, 5000 Words per Hour, but it’s not something he invented: many authors of the past dictated their work, including Erle Stanley Gardner and, as it was pointed out to me a few days back, Edgar Wallace.

What you need: a Google account and a smartphone or, if you are the sort that prefers to work with a microphone and a PC, you need to make sure your PC is 64 bit.
Mine is not, so I use the smartphone.
If you use an Android phone, it comes with the full suite of Google services, including Drive (where your text will be saved) and Docs (that will do the heavy lifting, recording your text).
Depending on your setup, you might need to load a Google Talk thing. Or maybe not.

So, here’s some general impressions.

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The case of the missing library

One year ago, in two evenings, I wrote the first 3000 words of a planned 4000 words of the Contunbernium, in Italian. I was not very convinced by the proposal I had received about publishing a story of mine, and the way in which the story was going left me cold, and in the end I dropped it.

I don’t throw away anything.
Writing is my job, no matter if I like it or not (it’s complicated), and I don’t throw away what I write. So The Cursed Hieroglyph languished in a lonely directory on my PC until I was asked for a story with specific characteristics. Bingo.

So I’m rewriting and finally finishing my story, and as I usually do, I am doing a bit of research on the fly to tighten up the background.
It’s one of those cases in which I wrote first, and checked the facts later.
And, well… damn!

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Cats

No, not the old-musical-now-a-major-motion-picture-with-a-creepy-trailer Cats. I really mean the, you know, small killing machines that have domesticated humankind since the neolithic.
Cats, Felis domestica.

Yesterday, talking with a friend, I learned about an organization that works with cats, and that’s called Freddy’s Cathouse. I’m not swimming in gold, but I decided I’ll support them, because it’s a worthy cause, and comes with the recommendation of someone I trust. Also, I love the idea of being able to say I support a cathouse: Harry Flashman would be SO proud of me!
I’m also spreading the word, as you see – and I’ll try and see if there’s a badge I can place here in the sidebar for you to ignore.
I like cats.

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Still crazy after all these years

If the last 24 hours are any indication, this is going to be a wild weekend, but not in the naughty/risque way that might be fun.

In the last 24 hours I have

  • Spent one evening eating pizza with a friend who happens to be a good writer, and we decided that considering the current state of fantasy in our country, we’ll pitch our next books to Harlequin.
  • Spent a whole night and the best part of a day editing a book to patch a mistake I made, in order to still be able to deliver it in time for the deadline…
  • … which led to the cancellation of my planned microadventure for tomorrow.
  • Had three beautiful ladies on my Facebook profile discussing in enthusiastic terms the manly charms of… Matthew McConaughey…
  • … Which led to the decision of re-watching Sahara as a movie for the evening.
  • Decided to start supporting the best way I can a cat shelter (more news in the future).
  • Cashed in a very positive review of House of the Gods.
  • Started working on my next Patreon project.
  • Heard Ray Charles sing Paul Simon’s Still Crazy After All These Years, that fits the current situation to a T.

And that’s it.
But hey, it’s only Friday night.


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They do not fight enough. As if I cared.

In the last six months or so I’ve heard harsh criticism leveled at a number of books…

  • Gene Wolfe’s Book of the New Sun
  • Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast
  • Patricia McKillip’s Riddlemaster’s Trilogy
  • Robert Silverberg’s Lord Valentine’s Castle
  • Mercedes Lackey’s Valdemar novels
  • J.B. Cabell’s Jurgen
  • John Crowley’s Little Big

Books that spend too much time in useless description, with little or no action, and characters that spend more time talking than fighting. My usual answer, “What, then?” usually receives strange looks.

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The last days of August

Back when I was in school, the last days of August were days of frantic work, doing the home-works that had been waiting for three months in my copybooks. Now it’s thirty-odd years since I last had any home-works to do, and yet these are frantic days nonetheless.
I have to close a big translation I need to deliver by the 31st – I’ll probably deliver it tomorrow or the day after that.
Then there’s another important translation to deliver on the first week of September.
I am working on the two Contubernium stories I have mentioned yesterday, and I have two other short stories in the works – one horror, one a straight detective mystery, possibly the start of a new series, with an eye on a very specific market.
And I have a novella that’s long overdue, and that I’ll start working on next Sunday night. The plan is to write 3000 words each night. This way, I’ll have it ready in ten days. Ready, that is, for a rewrite. I plan on delivering it by the 15th of September.

I have also other things brewing – like adding an audio channel to my Patron page, and setting up a proper drive to attract more Patrons.
But these are things that will happen in the second half of next month.

And there’s the projects that are awaiting confirmation – but those are still in the limbo from which deadlines come screeching bloody murder at the end of the month.
I think I hear them calling right now, and I better go.