Lovecraft is my aspirin

Oy, I have such a headache.  I need to stop reading all of these blogs and Facebook comments regarding H. P. Lovecraft and the World Fantasy Award.  I am too emotionally entangled to approach the subject without subjectivity.  I am too huge a Lovecraft freak not to want to defend his writing, defend it to people who don't read him and couldn't care less about his work.  Listening to ye new Streisand cd helps to calm my soul--but the real balm will come from working on a new Cthulhu story that I am writing for Paula Guran, and thus to immerse myself into that rich and wonderful Lovecraftian realm that brings such perfect joy, such eldritch bliss.
The writing of a new Mythos story brings me such keen pleasure because it returns me to Lovecraft's fiction, the world I love more than all others.  Because the story is for a book that has "Cthulhu" in its title, I want my story to be linked to "The Call of Cthulhu"; & so I am returning to an old idea that I had set aside, the idea of a wee tale set near the haunted lake mention'd in Part II of ye tale, "...a hidden lake unglimpsed by mortal sight, in which dwelt a huge, formless white polypous thing with luminous eyes; and squatters whispered that bat-winged devils flew up out of caverns in inner earth to worship it at midnight. ... It was nightmare itself, and to see it was to die.  But it made men dream."  But it made men dream -- that is the thing that inspir'd me to have my main character a child of Sesqua Valley; for ye shadow children of the valley, it is said, do not dream, it is not in their nature to do so.  But this particular child wants very much to dream--to dream horribly.  Nu, she seeks out this hidden lake "unseen by mortal eyes," and of course she will not die, for she isn't mortal, being a spawn of Sesqua's shadow and mist.  That gives me something to work with, and from it I hope to conjure a Lovecraftian weird tale that is rich in mood and nameless mystery.

Okay, time to get offline and get to work.  Shalom.