The other chapter of the 'Cold Flames and Hot Ashes' sequence is still to write, and I'll have to slow up a bit while I get it clear in my mind just how it plays out. I think I've got the lay of the land, though. It's just as well if the pace abates a little, as the woeful eating and drinking and sleeping habits that always attend these writing furies is beginning to fray me a bit around the edges. A couple of nights with only a few hundred words apiece, and I should be recovered enough to charge into the Wassail - the beating heart of the tale - by the weekend. If I get through that at the same rate, it'll be just this side of a miracle.
Binge writing, eh? Ought to be a law against it, to protect us from ourselves. Never mind, I'm sure there'll be one along in a moment!
By the by, there's a nice post by Jo Walton over on Tor.com about a very spifferific-sounding panel (Bujold! Kierstein! Er, duh, Walton!) at the recent Boskone SF convention, on the Heroine's Journey in fiction. It occurs to me in the light of this discussion that I am now writing that rare bird, the Crone's Journey - and I've been stirred to one or two thoughts as to why there is so little of it about:
"...she knows too much to make it easy to plot, and it hurts too much to make it easy to write. This, above and beyond whether the tale itself is a joyous or a sorrowful one."
It is perhaps significant how I've settled on Golden Kate as my Crone's Journey hero, given that so much of what she's known for such a large portion of her life has been such breathtaking, monstrous, head-to-desk-inducing crap! The amount she has accidentally learned that is not crap, continues to surprise and delight me in the telling.
There seems to be some strangely unjaundiced view of human nature trying to break through, over there. I wonder what that's about?