Today was column day, so I devoted a good chunk of time to researching and writing 1,300 words on blue moons, and the curious fact that the folklore more and more people will confidently tell you applies to blue moons, namely, that a blue moon is what you call the occasional appearance of a second full moon in a month that has already had one, dates all the way back to…the 1980s.
You’ll see when you read the column here tomorrow…
I did get in an hour or so on Excalibur Reforged, though; a bunch of straightforward tweaking, poking and prodding, and just the start of the rewrite of a section from Wally’s POV that is currently in ARiane’s POV…when my laptop’s battery died. So that was that.
Of Orson Scott Card, I wrote not a word,
but tomorrow I’ll write, I promise, a third
(at least) of the chapter recounting his birth:
or I as a writer am of little worth.
Do you ever find yourself writing in rhyme
For no real good reason? Perhaps it’s the time
I recently spent reading Turtledove’s story
Of days when Will Shakespeare, in all of his glory,
Was writing in England. (An alternate hist’ry;
How Turtledove does it so well is a mist’ry…)
Aargh!
