The Hydra is Green

Today is a good day.  Today I ran out of chartreuse.

With any other liquor it might just be a case of drinking too much.  But in the case of this particular liqueur, it's a clear sign that I have been doing my writerly duty and writing.  And better, not just writing, but writing entire drafts.

Tennis players have weird sock rituals.  I have this:  Every time I finish a complete draft, I pour a glass of chartreuse over ice.  I prop my feet up on my desk.  I put Antichrist Superstar on the stereo.  And I toast myself to a job well done.

Self-indulgent, maybe.  But in an occupation that involves so much isolation, hair-tearing, and ideas that never come to fruition, I like to celebrate the small things.

Today's celebration is even more important for the fact that what reached its end was the third draft of a novelette that hopefully only needs a few final edits and a good polish before being ready to launch into the world.  (I would very much like to launch another story into the world before I die of old age.  Or frustration.)

What's even more important?  I really like this story.  I think I love it.  Definitely I love the characters, who are totally fucked up in a beautiful sort of way.  They say things to each other like, I'd rather hurt you than anyone else.  I'd rather be hurt by you than anyone else.

Which probably means I have listened to bloody Sweet Dreams too many times.  (But really, can you listen to Sweet Dreams too many times?)

So yes.  Today is a very good day.

In this moment, I feel like the hydra, baby.