It’s been hectic. I got sick, which was a drag. It stuck me in bed for several days. Once I got out of bed I had a million errands to run in order to catch up and, funny thing, a bunch of email. It seems real human’s have started buying my book — at least a few copies — and some of them emailed me. I find it polite to respond.
Day 2 of not going to work.
Yesterday was a bit crazy, but Nikki’s mom got here just fine…with the dog. /o\ Despite the fact that I don’t like dogs it’s not a problem. I can cope with her little silver pig-body traipsing around my house for a few days. I have to admit, she’s kinda cute. Really, for all you dog lovers out there, I don’t think it’s that I truly dislike dogs, it’s just that I dread the responsibilities of actually owning a pet.
The Muse, if s/he exists, is not a lovely cherubic or seraphic thing that whispers in my ear. Loveliness pouring in? The whole metaphor is just wrong.
“Art is never finished, only abandoned.”
This is so true and a friend of mine reminded me of it the other day in the agnst-ridden aftermath of my final read-through of The Last Page.
So I told myself, “Self, you are taking the week off. You are sleeping in.” The logic here was fairly simple.
Working on “Black Bottle” has been interesting.
Tor bought it unseen as part of the deal. I had a phone call with my editor at Tor that went something like this:
“The Last Page” was always intended as the first half of something bigger.
Well, I finished the rough draft of that bigger thing on Thursday and it feels pretty damned “ticky” to have the whole story out *at last* (minus the one scene I skipped in my dash for the end). Right now the manuscript has settled its amorphous girth at about 125,000 words but it’ll get just a bit fatter before I call it done.
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