3723.7: The Show Must Go On
Received my first critical* cover design comment backing up my suspicions--layout is weak sauce. I'm loathe to keep picking at it, though, or figure out a new way to arrange what I've already got. Making something new is out of the question if I plan to pull off this idiot deadline of mine. Alternate plans include flipping covers f to b [as odd as it feels] or leaving it awful and just finishing the body [likely plan, due to laziness].
*a Facebook "Like" doesn't count--for ANYTHING, really
Not like the covers wouldn't get redesigned IF by some miracle I got picked up by a "real" publisher, anyway. It's mostly the instinct against getting it perfect each time--gotta have room for improvement, I guess 9_9
Another fable, massively abbreviated:In college, I had a roommate who was trying to get into pre-med--not very hard, though. She was rather absorbed in the social life to where she and her friends joked that she was out with half the football team most nights.
The predictable end result was, towards the end of our first year [which to this day I don't know how I survived], she asked me to forge some acceptance papers, offering to pay me for it. I did as asked, despite my misgivings, and sent out three letters that detailed her acceptance.
Not well, though. After failing to get even reimbursement for the first request [$5-10, which is a LOT to a broke college student], I cared less and less about how the letters would be received, imagining my the-best-I-could-do-at-the-time forgeries to be as well-received as a money order made out of crayon and lined paper.
Needless to say, some weeks after the end of the school year, my father got a call from HER father explaining that he had figured out the scam, then asked to speak with me directly. I fessed up willingly--why the hell not?--and, when asked whether she paid me, said no [since, despite her promises, she didn't].
He said, "Well, whatever she's using to blackmail you is between you and your parents--"
At that point I nearly DIED from the accusation, imagining this punishment to be meted out, but I at least managed to hold my tongue during the rest of the phone call. Ah, payback.
My parents were more or less indifferent--my father half-heartedly warned me against getting caught, and my mother said I should have made sure to get paid first.
Moral: You get what you pay for =p
so yay
*a Facebook "Like" doesn't count--for ANYTHING, really
Not like the covers wouldn't get redesigned IF by some miracle I got picked up by a "real" publisher, anyway. It's mostly the instinct against getting it perfect each time--gotta have room for improvement, I guess 9_9
Another fable, massively abbreviated:In college, I had a roommate who was trying to get into pre-med--not very hard, though. She was rather absorbed in the social life to where she and her friends joked that she was out with half the football team most nights.
The predictable end result was, towards the end of our first year [which to this day I don't know how I survived], she asked me to forge some acceptance papers, offering to pay me for it. I did as asked, despite my misgivings, and sent out three letters that detailed her acceptance.
Not well, though. After failing to get even reimbursement for the first request [$5-10, which is a LOT to a broke college student], I cared less and less about how the letters would be received, imagining my the-best-I-could-do-at-the-time forgeries to be as well-received as a money order made out of crayon and lined paper.
Needless to say, some weeks after the end of the school year, my father got a call from HER father explaining that he had figured out the scam, then asked to speak with me directly. I fessed up willingly--why the hell not?--and, when asked whether she paid me, said no [since, despite her promises, she didn't].
He said, "Well, whatever she's using to blackmail you is between you and your parents--"
At that point I nearly DIED from the accusation, imagining this punishment to be meted out, but I at least managed to hold my tongue during the rest of the phone call. Ah, payback.
My parents were more or less indifferent--my father half-heartedly warned me against getting caught, and my mother said I should have made sure to get paid first.
Moral: You get what you pay for =p
so yay