Those of you who've read the Big Book, or even just the first few chapters of the Big Book, have noticed my obsession with weird funeral customs. There are the Efa who engage in ritual grave-robbing, the Lelese who steal their enemies' souls and force them to navigate their ships, the northern tribes who skin their beloved dead to make drumheads--if there's a cultural misunderstanding to be had across ethnic or national lines, I just can't help spicing it up by having the characters insult one another's handling of the dead. If I ever get the Big Book published, no doubt this kind of thing will provoke wild speculations about my inner life.
But I'm telling you, the Miaaran wedding ceremony is weirder than any of that. In December, when I've had a chance to clean up the sentence-level infelicities, I may post it here to see if it's too weird for readers to follow. Alternatively, I may be taking such pains to describe its weirdness as to have rendered it boring. I really can't tell right now.
Today was a 3,000 word day. I'm pretty sure it's the first 3,000 word day I've had since last November. I don't know why, but it felt easy.
24,447 / 50,000