Showing posts with label The X-Files: I Want to Believe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The X-Files: I Want to Believe. Show all posts

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Randomness

It’s been a while between updates.

My day job involves a lot of writing. A. Lot. Of. Writing. Some days I get home and discover there’s no gas left in the ol’ creative tank.

I know, I know. A “real” writer will crank out the words no matter the obstacle in his/her path. It’s nothing I haven’t told myself when I count my regrets in the middle of the night. Still, there it is.

Having said that, I’m starting to make a little progress on the word count front.

I also just submitted a longish story to a new market. The previous editor hadn’t responded to numerous inquiries over the past several months, and I’m quite proud of this piece.

Work and life have also gotten in the way of Pod of Horror, but there should be a new episode coming your way in a week or so. I’m looking forward to The Call of Kalanta. It’s been a long time since I heard foul language. Heh.

By the way, if you go to the reviews page at Nanci’s Horror World site, you can scroll down to my brief review of Steve Shrewsbury’s Hawg. Shrews’ writing can sometimes make you feel like you’re sliding down a banister made of razor blades. And that’s a good thing.

I’ve watched a handful of new movies lately, including:

The X-Files: I Want to Believe. Not as much suckage as I’d been told. I actually thought the Mulder/Scully character arcs were very good. Alas, there were no aliens, and I think that pissed off a lot of movie-goers.

Wanted. Pretty movie, but monstrously stupid. I will suspend disbelief to a remarkable degree, but “The Loom of Fate”? Really? Someone needs their ass kicked for that one.

Mama Mia. My wife’s new favorite movie. We saw it on the flight to Mexico, where I had the surreal experience of removing my headphones and witnessing half the passengers singing and dancing in their seats. At the risk of losing all of my testosterone street cred, I had fun watching it.

In the last few weeks, I’ve read Stephen King’s Just After Sunset (uneven, with flashes of brilliance. “N” is a masterpiece), Your Heart belongs to Me by Dean Koontz (it hooked me, despite some annoying Koontisms), and my favorite book of the year, The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. If you love stories well-told, then this will be a volume you will read many times.

Finally, here’s a picture of my niece Scarlett at three months old. She’s a beautiful baby, despite being related to me.