Work continues apace, and I’ve actually gotten quite a bit done already this month, though I tend to berate myself for falling short of arbitrary goalposts instead of step back and appreciate how far I’ve come.
Saturn’s Cove is being sent to the printers this week for an initial run of 100 numbered and signed copies, 72 of which will also be sigilised. My partner’s gotten in on it too and will be helping me with sigils, which is how I know I chose right hehe. Amazingly for a relatively-unknown chaote-poet, I’ve already gotten some preorders! (If youuu also want a copy, please see previous post. And you know you want one. You totally do.)
Meantime, I’ve had an idea for my second poetry zine, and am in the midst of writing for that as well. It will be a bit more personal, as the poems thus far are about growing up within a Southern American family, and the conflicting feelings I have about that particular line of my ancestry and its occupation of place within the Deep South. I hope I can do justice to the topic and my perspective – well, that’s what I hope for all my work anyway.
I’m also nearly 5,000 words into a novel of a genre that I honestly never thought I’d write – sexy vampires. I got the idea during the same walk which produced most of the poetry in Saturn’s Cove, so there must have been something in the air and landscape on that day! I originally intended it to be a more serious vampire book, but then I decided, fuck it, the world needs another sexy vampire book. (And you know you would read it, don’t even lie to me.)
And it has, thus far, been enormously fun to write! Especially compared with the science-fiction novel I’ve just finished, which I deeply cared about, agonised over, and am now going to have to completely rewrite (ugh). Something about writing a novel that you know is going to be an illicitly fun read for most of its readership has been very satisfying. But, ask me again in a couple of months when I’m agonising over like the fifth vampire orgy scene and frantically googling synonyms for ‘throbbing’.
Yknow, I think that’s probably a good place to leave off…
Sonya Blanck writings 