"Could I wash my hands of just looking out for me?"
Before I forget, livia_llewellyn, yes, I'd love to take you up on the offer. A copy of the collection would be marvelous. Just get in touch with Spooky, and thanks! I apologize for not having responded sooner.
Firstly...well, secondly...the daily reminder that, if you haven't, please PREORDER the forthcoming hc collection of Alabaster: Wolves. We only need sell 2,500 copies, kittens. The numbers are down a bit at the moment, but yesterday evening they went as high as I've seen them go (lower half of the image):
Truthfully, I ought to be going to NYComic Con this weekend. Dark Horse actually had me scheduled for a signing. But the deadlines of Fay Grimmer and three other projects, combined with a shortage on disposable income, combined with my fear that I would get sick (enormous crowds in small spaces = disease) and get even farther behind, led to my canceling my plans to attend.
---
Yesterday, I wrote precisely 1,600 words on Chapter Five of Fay Grimmer. Another ~20k words, I'll be finished with this beast. The worse part right now is knowing that - despite two rewrites - Chapter Two still isn't very good, and Chapter Two is the fulcrum on which the entire book rests. Chapter Two fails, the novel fails.
I also did some work on...one of the projects I cannot yet officially announce...and the galley pages for Blood Oranges. No Dostoyevsky. Yeah, I fail as a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool intellectual. I suspect it has something to do with being a forty-eight-year-old working author. With having bills to pay. With the recognition of responsibility to my "family." Regardless, I'm learning not to give a shit. Oh, and Spooky almost finished with the taxes. They're scary this year.
Comments? Again, I don't see the point of this, otherwise. maybe the time has come, finally, to forsake LJ for Dreamwidth. Which is truly fucking depressing.
And the world goes to Riyadh,
Aunt Beast
Firstly...well, secondly...the daily reminder that, if you haven't, please PREORDER the forthcoming hc collection of Alabaster: Wolves. We only need sell 2,500 copies, kittens. The numbers are down a bit at the moment, but yesterday evening they went as high as I've seen them go (lower half of the image):
Truthfully, I ought to be going to NYComic Con this weekend. Dark Horse actually had me scheduled for a signing. But the deadlines of Fay Grimmer and three other projects, combined with a shortage on disposable income, combined with my fear that I would get sick (enormous crowds in small spaces = disease) and get even farther behind, led to my canceling my plans to attend.
---
Yesterday, I wrote precisely 1,600 words on Chapter Five of Fay Grimmer. Another ~20k words, I'll be finished with this beast. The worse part right now is knowing that - despite two rewrites - Chapter Two still isn't very good, and Chapter Two is the fulcrum on which the entire book rests. Chapter Two fails, the novel fails.
I also did some work on...one of the projects I cannot yet officially announce...and the galley pages for Blood Oranges. No Dostoyevsky. Yeah, I fail as a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool intellectual. I suspect it has something to do with being a forty-eight-year-old working author. With having bills to pay. With the recognition of responsibility to my "family." Regardless, I'm learning not to give a shit. Oh, and Spooky almost finished with the taxes. They're scary this year.
Comments? Again, I don't see the point of this, otherwise. maybe the time has come, finally, to forsake LJ for Dreamwidth. Which is truly fucking depressing.
And the world goes to Riyadh,
Aunt Beast