Tuesday,
March 25, 2008

Happy Birthday, Mikey!

Happy 22nd birthday to my favorite turquoise-eyed nephew! And congratulations on the job, sweetie -- a relative of mine, working in a bookstore. I'm so proud!

Oh, speaking of literary efforts...

The story, it is fighting me

And I don't know why. It's finished and I'm editing it into shape (which in this case means making sure all the character and place names are consistent throughout the story, patching in action and backstory here and there, and general polishing). It can't be the editing -- I LIKE editing (yes, I know, I'm a freak).

But man, finishing this particular story is like pulling teeth. I think it's because it's a funny piece -- or meant to be one, anyway -- and I'm not really in a funny mood. I keep wanting to go off and do something, ANYTHING else -- vacuum the cat, clean the bathroom, pound nails up my nose. But I'm sitting here because I promised an editor he would have it by today, and so I shall return to the battle and slap it around until it succumbs to my mighty auctorial machete.

And then I want some half-off Easter chocolate, dammit, because I've EARNED it.

Oh, and for the person who has been whining and complaining on my guestbook about my not making daily posts here -- in addition to working on this story I have also been plowing through the tax paperwork, putting together a brocade jacket for a friend, doing laundry, cleaning, doing prep work for a story that must be put in the mail by Monday, walking for 40 minutes every day on the treadmill and engaging in theraputic play session with JJ so that he doesn't overgroom his belly and back legs down to the dermis.

So that's what's been happening in the Fletcher manse. Now please stop harassing me.

Finished

Okay, eight hours after I sat down to work, the story is completely finished, formatted and sent off to the editor.

Now we wait. And eat chocolate. And maybe indulge in a glorious glass of Bailey's on ice. Yum.

Oh, and the reason why I do this sort of thing? Well, it's partially because I love to tell stories and have a deep need to write them down and share them with other people. And it's partially because if you become a famous writer, you can get invited to the New Zealand national science fiction convention, where you'll be taken on a tour of Weta Digital and allowed to handle swords, arrows and armor made for the Lord of the Rings movies, like Elizabeth Moon got to do this week.

Not that I'm jealous or anything -- I'm normally this shade of neon green. Errgh...

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