By the movement of the celestial bodies we know that the Earth also moves in space. The Christian idea that it is fixed in the firmament is groundless. Arabian scholars twice as learned have disproven this time and again, to say nothing of the work of the Greeks that came before. But, if the Earth moves through space, what force prevents its water, its trees, its little boys and girls and flocks of sheep and seaborn leviathans from flying into the void? Simply, the Earth circles the central point, the Central Fire, as Philolaus called it, with its back to the Fire and its face to the sun that, in turn, orbits the disk of the Earth, creating night and day. All created matter, the phenomenal world, falls toward the center; so the water stays on the surface, and so we plummet to the paving stones when pushed from a tower rather than flying into the clouds. Plato confirmed this last factor when describing the elements as each having their place, and each wanting to be in their place to fulfill the natural order of creation.

(I doubt this last. The horror I have witnessed implies that there is no natural order, that our separate parts are not moving to any order. If there is any natural force, it is entropy. I can accept that all matter falls to the Central Fire, but not that this in any way resembles order.)

What anchors Earth in place as we whirl around the holocaust? The Antichthon. Of our Earth it is the exact mirror in quantity and the exact opposite in quality. I have since embroidered this embryonic idea with many of my own truths. In importance this fact stands as the greatest within the scope of human comprehension. I feel that I had learned nothing before I learned of the Antichthon.

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… progresses. 6084 words as of today. That represents the addition of 2200 words after falling behind yesterday. I had two and a half hours in which to write, but some serious staring at my desktop plant had to be accomplished. It’s an arsinia japonica, and it needs water twice a week and staring for twenty minutes day.

In today’s installment, eyes were gouged out, sex done, archaic contraceptives described, and poisons measured. The story moves. I’m happy.

Tough going the next two days, with enough school botheration that I might have trouble meeting quota. Alas. We’ll make it work somehow!

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“Broad-brushed history may portray me, like Christ or the Prophet, as having lived a perfect life. This is an exaggeration. Certainly there are those among my people who say this now, while I still walk the dust of Earth; after I pass, I will endure the same deification to which all great leaders are subjected: Caesar, Alexander, Arthur of the Britons, the aforementioned Christ and Mohammad. (Impostors all!) This chronicle exists to void that possibility. I write so that none will say, “She was an angel with a sword of lightning,” or, “She was Yahweh returned in female form.” I will reveal my imperfections, catalogued scrupulously over my long and happy life, and if the result is that modesty is added to my trifling list of virtues, then so be it.”

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I started my latest novel four days ago!
I quit it one day ago!

It was awful. I don’t know why I sink so much time and effort into projects that I know won’t work out. It was apparent by day two that this novel had no emotional core. The narrative was solid, but the characters crafted of cardboard, and the individual moments cut from the abrasive, unrefined cloth of cliché. So I threw it out - the plot, the characters, and 90% of the ideas. I made a list of the elements of the novel that I like, and scaled back my ambition. One narrator instead of six. One plot instead of ten, and that plot will go from A to B to C. I’m not ready yet for the A-Q-F-6-C plots. I need to finish more than one novel first.

Instantly a new idea sprang to mind, and it has been expanding in my mind like a frozen octopus in the summer sun. The more I think of it, the more I like it. It follows the simpler formula; it focuses on one character’s life. In a twist from my last novel, I’ve decided to make the protagonist a female. The plot is diabolical and should be fun to write. Last night, when I told Randi about it, she furrowed her brow and said, “That doesn’t really have much to do with the female experience.”
“What is the female experience?” said I. “Having babies?”
She declined to elaborate further.
So I ask you, dear female readers, to tender your opinions as to what constitutes the female experience. You can message me if you’re too embarrassed to comment but nonetheless possess some burning ingot of unalloyed wisdom.

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As a writer, it is my duty to stare into the darkest recesses of the human experience and not flinch. It was inevitable that this duty would one day lead me to write about killipedes.

Click this here link (it’s a PDF) and check out my (very) short story on this growing menace. Scroll past the juvenalia for which Space Squid is known to page 9. The story will take five minutes of your time. You’ll be a little sadder and a little wiser for it.

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I’m in the pre-writing phase of novel #2, and my mind is a blank when it comes to character names. I thought I’d open up the floor to you, dear readers. It’s something to do when you’re bored at work today.
I need:
At least three medieval male French names. It’d be nice if I had a longer form with surname and maybe honorific, as well as a short form for actual use. I.e., I don’t want to be typing out “Sir Jehan de Joinville de Champagne” every dang time. Also, these names should convey “I am a tough guy who will fuck you up in a horrifyingly violent medieval way.”
The same amount of medieval Turkic names, with the same long form and short form. Honorific not needed. Example: “al-Malik al-Zahir Rukn al-Din Baybars al-Bunduqdari”, also known as “Baibars” or “Baibars the One-Eyed”.
A few Arabic names.
Some medieval English names.
Perhaps a medieval German name or two. (Let’s assume I want all medieval names, so I can stop typing it.)
A Mongolian name. Or two!
Two Arabic female names.
Two Turkic female names.
An Italian male name for an evil sorcerer. The name shouldn’t be evil at first glance, but become evil upon repeat readings.
A French female name of some fancy Countess. “Countess de _________.” Fictional location, please.

And, finally, I need at least a half-dozen male names in Enochian.

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