Ever had a deskalanche?
That’s where the crap on your desk has piled too high, and is a precarious pile of notebooks, catalogs, school papers, CD cases, pill containers, nail polish bottles, socks, yarn, and other whatnots that got set off to one side. This pile’s a tectonic disaster waiting to happen. All it needs is that one last thing to overbalance the delicate balance.
Which in this particular case was a PC World magazine. Oops.
Well, I needed to clean it off anyway.
I’ve spent the last week and a half buried in my work-in-progress. I hope to have it done by the end of this week. It’s only got 12k-15k left on it, I think, depending on how out of hand the last love scene gets…
Well, I’m not known for seasonal punctuality. If I have to mail a Christmas present, or a birthday card, it tends to go out about a month late. I’m really awful about it.
So it isn’t much of a surprise that I’m just now getting around to reading some of the Christmas stories out there. I finally opened up L. Shannon’s My Immortal, and boy, did I feel like a twit for waiting. Wow.
This is an awesome story. Awesome with a side of awesome. It is filled with win. It’s well-written, touching, wrench-your-heart-out-of-your-chest terrific. I’m a real fan of Norse mythology, and I squealed when I saw how she’d included it. This is an amazing tale, and I don’t care if it’s June when you read this, go buy it and read it.
I’m not a great wait-er. I hate to wait, in fact. I’m one of those instant gratification folks that’d prefer if I got what I wanted somewhere around now. Of course, it doesn’t work that way, but I’d sure like it if it did.
January is all about waiting, this time around. I submitted my story Dominant Enigma, and now, I have to wait to hear back about it. I submitted a proposal for another story, and I have to wait to learn that one’s fate. Wait.
I’m going to get a new laptop with my tax return this year, because I need one for when the kids are out of school and want to swim. I can work from the pool patio. But I have to wait for the tax papers to get here. Then, when I put them in, I’ll have to wait for the return to get processed. Wait, wait.
I need a haircut, but I have to wait for payday. Cloverfield has to wait for this weekend, maybe next. I have to wait for my nail polish to dry so that I can put on another coat. My son’s teacher is giving us a hamster from an unexpected batch of babies, but I have to wait for it to get old enough. I’m getting guinea pigs, but I have to wait to get the cage supplies.
Wait, wait, wait! Hurry up and wait!
I am, however, six thousand words into Taint of Shadow, and I like how it’s coming out. That, fortunately, doesn’t have to wait. Or yes, it does. The kids are up. It’s dinnertime. I have to wait til bedtime to write more on it.
It’s release day over at Cobblestone Press, and Moira Reid has a new book out! Pay Dirt looks terrific, too. How can you resist a story about winning the lottery and messing up a police investigation? Here’s the blurb:
Elle Parson wins $10 million in the Texas Two-Step Lottery and her life immediately turns to crap. First someone almost steals her purse containing the ticket.
Then, she unwittingly mucks up a police undercover operation to catch the Houston Marauder, a psychopath who has already abducted, raped and murdered three women.
Then things turn much worse.
Go over, have a look, and put it on your To Be Read list!
Also releasing today is Light of Day by Tess Harrison, which looks really intense. Have a look at that, too!
There’s a moment, when you’ve checked your query letter twice, the e-mail address three times, and made sure you actually attached the file each time, that the “Send” button stares at you. It looks big, exciting, and maybe even a little menacing.
So you open your manuscript and check it again. Is this the right version? Did you spell your name right? How about those margins, the line spacing? There’s that “Send” button again. It’s intimidating.
Everything gets worked over with the fine-toothed comb, but it hasn’t changed since you decided this was how you wanted the final version. The e-mail looks fine. It all reads just like it should. Now, of course, you wonder if it sucks, when last week, you thought it was terrific. You re-read every letter from your critique partners. They thought it was good, too.
You close your eyes. You click the mouse. And it’s gone, leaving a host of emotions in its wake. For better or for worse, you’ve submitted it. An editor will read it. If you’re lucky, they’ll like it.
Only in English does the word “Send” mean faith, hope, excitement, anxiety, menace, worry, and a need to check your e-mail every five minutes.