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Happy New Year, right?
That's what they say.
Yesterday evening, sometime just past 4:30 p.m. CaST, I finally finished Alabaster: The Good, the Bad, and the Bird. I typed the last page, and I emailed it away to my editor at Dark Horse. On November 12, 2013, well over a year ago, I was told a second miniseries had been approved (Grimmer Tales, aka Boxcar Tales, was never an actual miniseries). Yesterday, I finished. It took me many, many more months than it should have. For many reasons. And I hope it marks the very last time I will ever write Dancy, and I mean it to be the last time I write for comics. Now, let's see if I have the fortitude, the resolve, to make good on those promises to myself.
That's my New Year's resolution.
It's sunny out there today. I should be grateful for that, only there's no one and nothing to be grateful to, so I'll settle for being glad of it. I don't like the sky, but that's why I have a roof over my head. I can sit here, or wherever, all day and smell the black-eyed peas simmer and the collards, enjoy the scent of baking cornbread, and not think about the blue of the wide plagiarized sky. My thoughts will be with Birmingham and Woodstock.
My fingernails are like paper.
My bones feel like glass.
Let this moment stand as hope.
Maybe I'll sit here and do crosswords all day long. That might actually be restful.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast
That's what they say.
Yesterday evening, sometime just past 4:30 p.m. CaST, I finally finished Alabaster: The Good, the Bad, and the Bird. I typed the last page, and I emailed it away to my editor at Dark Horse. On November 12, 2013, well over a year ago, I was told a second miniseries had been approved (Grimmer Tales, aka Boxcar Tales, was never an actual miniseries). Yesterday, I finished. It took me many, many more months than it should have. For many reasons. And I hope it marks the very last time I will ever write Dancy, and I mean it to be the last time I write for comics. Now, let's see if I have the fortitude, the resolve, to make good on those promises to myself.
That's my New Year's resolution.
It's sunny out there today. I should be grateful for that, only there's no one and nothing to be grateful to, so I'll settle for being glad of it. I don't like the sky, but that's why I have a roof over my head. I can sit here, or wherever, all day and smell the black-eyed peas simmer and the collards, enjoy the scent of baking cornbread, and not think about the blue of the wide plagiarized sky. My thoughts will be with Birmingham and Woodstock.
My fingernails are like paper.
My bones feel like glass.
Let this moment stand as hope.
Maybe I'll sit here and do crosswords all day long. That might actually be restful.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast