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May. 8th, 2009 10:48 pmI've come down with a mild bug, which is life's payment for me being decisive today. On the other hand, I'm 4/5 through my big pre-winter wash-of-all-kinds-of-bedding. If I go to bed just an hour later than usual, I get all kinds of crisp and warm bedding.
None of the missing parts of my life (more keys missing than before, still big coat, and etceteras also strangely absent) appeared when I hauled stuff out of their warm weather hiding places. The only spots left for the coat require me to climb high. Was I really that stupid when I put the heavy coat away last year? I think I shall refuse to answer that question.
In writing news, I have editing notes on ten short stories but not a single skerrick for any of my own fiction. I still owe too many book reviews. My map still creates a small well of despair inside me when I think of how much of the world it could explain if only I could draw.
Kind of related (but not really), I'm about to teach my Wednesday class the basics of book production. They've sent me their favourite work and next Wednesday we'll look at it and they can start to get an idea of what's ahead. Basic editing (which is going to be hard in this instance) and order and layout and stuff. Including fonts. I adore fonts and am going to lure them into the land of fabulous typefaces.
My mind is about to go somewhere interesting, isn't it? I always get hopelessly disjointed just before things get really fascinating. Kings of France have deluges after they're gone - I get the deluge first and then everything comes together in a strange new way. I just don't know whther to be scared or not.
None of the missing parts of my life (more keys missing than before, still big coat, and etceteras also strangely absent) appeared when I hauled stuff out of their warm weather hiding places. The only spots left for the coat require me to climb high. Was I really that stupid when I put the heavy coat away last year? I think I shall refuse to answer that question.
In writing news, I have editing notes on ten short stories but not a single skerrick for any of my own fiction. I still owe too many book reviews. My map still creates a small well of despair inside me when I think of how much of the world it could explain if only I could draw.
Kind of related (but not really), I'm about to teach my Wednesday class the basics of book production. They've sent me their favourite work and next Wednesday we'll look at it and they can start to get an idea of what's ahead. Basic editing (which is going to be hard in this instance) and order and layout and stuff. Including fonts. I adore fonts and am going to lure them into the land of fabulous typefaces.
My mind is about to go somewhere interesting, isn't it? I always get hopelessly disjointed just before things get really fascinating. Kings of France have deluges after they're gone - I get the deluge first and then everything comes together in a strange new way. I just don't know whther to be scared or not.