Me vs. Late Eclipses. (Hint: the book is winning.)
Me: I believe I shall revise this chapter.
LE: I believe I shall kick your ass.
Me: I'm the author, I get to win.
LE: *chuckles evilly*
(Eighty pages and a lot of profane language later, there's blood on the ceiling, and slaughtered adjectives litter the carpet like, um, thingy.)
Me: I HATE YOU SO HARD.
LE: I'm better now.
Me: ...what?
LE: I'm a better book now.
Me: ...why the hell couldn't you cooperate if this was the end result?
LE: Because it's more fun this way.
(Cue more insensate swearing. Fade to black.)
In other news, work on the fourth Toby book continues apace -- yes, I'm aware that the first book doesn't come out until September; remember, my life goals include "turn in the second trilogy by the end of 2010," because that's just the way I roll -- and is only causing me small amounts of severe physical, mental, and emotional trauma. I'm busting ass now, while I can, before the promo for Rosemary and Rue kicks into such high gear that I don't have brain anymore.
Late Eclipses has lost three words from its title, four thousand words from its text, and two chapters from its numbering system, and it's better for these subtractions. It is gradually becoming a lean, mean, causing-me-pain machine.
Now, television, tuna sandwiches, art card inking, and the eventual sleep of the just. Good night, y'all. Don't burn down the internet.
LE: I believe I shall kick your ass.
Me: I'm the author, I get to win.
LE: *chuckles evilly*
(Eighty pages and a lot of profane language later, there's blood on the ceiling, and slaughtered adjectives litter the carpet like, um, thingy.)
Me: I HATE YOU SO HARD.
LE: I'm better now.
Me: ...what?
LE: I'm a better book now.
Me: ...why the hell couldn't you cooperate if this was the end result?
LE: Because it's more fun this way.
(Cue more insensate swearing. Fade to black.)
In other news, work on the fourth Toby book continues apace -- yes, I'm aware that the first book doesn't come out until September; remember, my life goals include "turn in the second trilogy by the end of 2010," because that's just the way I roll -- and is only causing me small amounts of severe physical, mental, and emotional trauma. I'm busting ass now, while I can, before the promo for Rosemary and Rue kicks into such high gear that I don't have brain anymore.
Late Eclipses has lost three words from its title, four thousand words from its text, and two chapters from its numbering system, and it's better for these subtractions. It is gradually becoming a lean, mean, causing-me-pain machine.
Now, television, tuna sandwiches, art card inking, and the eventual sleep of the just. Good night, y'all. Don't burn down the internet.