Dear Gods, indeed

I've made no secret of my admiration for the blogger Hilzoy from Obsidian Wings. Yesterday, she pointed out a horrifying trend in her own writing (and in our general consciousness): the number of deaths needed to get our attention in Iraq is steadily going up. Three years ago, ten deaths got our attention. Two years ago: twenty. A year ago: fifty. Last week, it took a blow that murdered 250 people to make the press stand up. Some newspapers dutifully noted each bombing in the body of its daily article about Iraq, but to get a headline the bombers needed to kill more and more.

One of the things we've been patiently waiting for is the report from General Petraeus about the status of the surge. Brad DeLong pointed me to an article on Crocker vs. Petraeus, which points out that Petraeus' actions in counter-insurgency involve empowering local forces to fight the insurgents, a move which destablizes the Bush administration's initiative to create an Iraqi national reconciliation. The local soveriengties are challenging, frustrating, and even dismantling the national political process.

Today we learn that the Petraeus report will not be given by General Petraeus and the White House does not want him to testify publicly. A report came out yesterday showing that the White House, and not General Petraeus or Ambassador Crocker, would be assembling the report on the surge for Congress and the public, and now the White House has asked Congress for a closed-door, informal, not-for-public broadcast session with Petraeus. Senators Biden and Levin have said that's not acceptable and they want an open hearing.

Petraeus himself said that September was too early for him and he might need another six weeks. They're stalling. They know it. We know it. "Wait until September! Wraaaack! Wait until September!" the Republican side of the aisle has parroted for the past three months. I wonder if they'll press for an honest assessment of the surge, or go with the White wash House's version of events.

A mild case of burnout.

I've been so tired, worn out and cranky all week. It doesn't help that I've contemplated the Caprice Starr series up, down, and sidewise and told myself that what I'm committing myself to is insane. Most people start out wanting to write a novel. Caprice Starr is right now targeted to be six novels of an average 160 pages each, total word count 480,000 words. At 2000 words a day, with no breaks, that would come out to about eight months of steady writing.

Part of the problem is that many of the story ideas come off as police procedurals where the bad guys are Evil Overlord quality intelligence and have mixed motives, not necessarily evil but certainly at odds with Caprice's goals. And I've not read very many police procedurals; I wonder if The Laundry novels qualify. Maybe I should read some thrillers as well, like the Bourne novels.

Jeez, I just want to take November off. Then I could write 1000 words an hour if I were so inclined and have it half-done in a month.

( Interlude: A Shel Silverstein poem )

I have been revising my collection of old stories, those that have been sitting in a musty e-drawer for a few months or more. They don't look so bad. I think the last Kaede & Eshi story is ready to go. In fact, it looks like there's about 130,000 words or so in the "to be released" hopper after Sterlings is done, which is about the same size as Sterlings. Nineteen stories or so. Not too bad.