head, meet sand---
Yesterday I felt like one of those directors who's always rewriting the script on the set, while actors and cameramen and whatnot sit around twiddling their thumbs. I have so rewritten Alabaster: Wolves #5 that it's beginning to look like the original script only in its broad strokes. No one asked me to do this. My editor requested fairly minor changes. But, suddenly, a couple of weeks back, I decided that I could do a lot better. And that's what I'm trying to do. At the very last fucking minute, even as Steve draws #4, and Rachelle finishes coloring #3, and #2 is on the shelves, and #1 is on eBay, and...
Anyway, that's what I did yesterday. Today, I need to make an end to this. Complete this second version of the script so my editor can have it on Monday. Oh, and I also proofed the inked pages for #4 yesterday. Spooky sent a mountain of corrections for The Yellow Book (FREE with the limited edition of Confessions of a Five-Chambered Heart) to Subterranean Press, all to "Ex Libris," which we discovered, reading it aloud on Wednesday, was fairly riddled with mistakes.
And, also, production on the audiobook for The Drowning Girl: A Memoir is finally complete. It's thirteen hours long, and I'm having to listen through the whole thing, so that I can sign off on it before release. It's great be given genuine creative control on projects. Final say, et al. But I've only made it through about an hour and a half, so far. And I'm listening to it out of order. But, I have to tell you, hearing 7/7/7, I almost cried. Spooky, too. It's that good. I chose a very good reader.
Only eight days remaining until -08. Holy fucking fuck.
Last night, Spooky and I began reading The Return of the King. Poor Pippin has no idea what he's gotten himself into. I also spent about an hour and a half yesterday on a virtual jigsaw puzzle (yes, I finished it).
Gonna go take the blue pill now. I think, ironically, we call it Red Bull.
Superannuated,
Aunt Beast
