As I drink my celebratory snifter of port…

It’s a cool winter evening and I’ve turned off most of the lights in the flat, shuffling around the study by dim glow of the desk lamp, swaying in a slightly dreamy manner to Bauhaus songs while I poke bits of Flotsam with a stick.  In theory I should be writing right now, but I figure if I don’t sneak off and blog now, I’ll get all caught up in drowning Keith Murphy in the demonic equivalent of a baptismal font and it’ll be another week before I post here again.

I’m going to mention, first off, that Angela Slatter is in the process of delivering a very special series of Friday Drive-By interviews focusing on the contributors to the forthcoming Stephen Jones anthology A Book of Horrors. The first link takes you straight to the page she’s set up for it on her website, which means you miss out on the very charming otters that appeared on the post announcing the interview series, but it’s definitely worth keeping an on eye on things if you’re a fan of Angela’s work (as I am),  Stephen Jones’ anthologies (er, yes, fan of them too), or just Angela’s drive-by interview series in general (yes, sorry, I’m a fan of those too).

Hold on, I’ve run out of Bauhaus songs. It’s time to move on to Joy Division (If you’ve never seen the Australian film Three Dollars where David “Faramir” Wenham dances like Ian Curtis, you’re missing out).

Okay, so, other things. I wrote a little more of my morning commute story today, figuring out a bit more about the characters involved. Lunch breaks at work seem to be a boon to getting things done on the writing front, since there’s enough time there to get about two or three pages filled in the Moleskin notebook I’m using, which adds up pretty quickly when the page or two I get done on the train is factored in. The weird part, of course, comes with writing things out of order – I’m just kind of putting down scenes and seeing what the characters do and trusting that sooner or later a beginning and an end will show up.

Interestingly, this isn’t a story I could write electronically. Short bursts of time are terrible when I’m trying to type things on a computer, where the pages are infinite and the keys make pleasant clattering sounds as I work, but a fifteen to forty-minute stretch is kind of ideal for hand-writing. I suspect it’s got something to do with the page itself imposing a kind of structure on the writing, but I wouldn’t swear to it.

I’ve discovered, once again, that working above a bookstore is a dangerous proposition. Last week I picked up Brett Easton Ellis’ Lunar Park while strolling through the shop before work; this week I found myself buying a copy of Notes from the Underground (a book I’ve always meant to read, but never gotten around too) and China Miéville’s Kraken. Fortunately, I’m back to reading books faster than I buy them, so I don’t feel too bad about the purchases.

I also discovered that my Klout profile lists me as an expert of pancakes, which suggests I tweet far to much about breakfast, I suppose. Admittedly, I am only a very small expert of pancakes, but that’s more-or-less in keeping with my pancake consumption. Given the option, I’d choose to be an expert in something much cooler: ninjas, perhaps, or obscure seventies punk bands from Brisbane, but considering I know even less about those topics than I do about pancakes, perhaps it’s best the option isn’t mine.

A friend emailed with the question have you ever googled sinister ducks, which I hadn’t prior till then, but immediately gave it go. I’ve already posted the results almost everywhere, but suffice to say that a good search engine and youtube will satisfy your curiosity and it’s well worth it.

And, since it seems to be the thing to do at the moment, I should mention that I’m on the googleplus in a very “well, this thing exists, lets wait for it do something interesting” kind of way. I’ve never really been an early-adopter of social media before and, based on this experience, I’m rather glad of that. Facebook and twitter were both much more fun to learn when there were lots of people already using it. Google+ just feels like I’ve shown up for a party a few hours early, so I’m standing in the corner and looking mawkish while I wait for the rest of my friends to arrive (I am, rather sneakily, hiding behind the pseudonym Peter M Ball, should you be +enabled and looking to add me to a circle).

• And with that, the spokesbear says I’m done, for it’s time to go back to the wordmines.