save the night for weeping

I'm feeling just the slightest bit melancholy tonight.

I suspect this is in large part due to the fact that, for the last four days, I have not been able to take a shower without strapping a plastic bag over my face, and let me tell you, that novelty wears off sharpish.

So, to continue the no-true-content-while-the-edits-are-breaking-me spree, have two of my absolute favourite xkcd comics:

(For those of you who've never discovered xkcd before, first: where have you been hiding? I mean, by the time I discover something on the internet, everyone knows about it! and second: don't forget the mouseover text is part of the magic.)

Somersault (Decoder Ring)

9 June 2008 @ 18:45 |

not waving, drowning

I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that I hate the copy-edited manuscript, and copyediting, and if I never quibble with myself again over where a comma should sit, or how best to conjugate a precise verb in a particular instance, it will be far too soon.

In the meantime, have a quote I love:

Carving is easy, you just go down to the skin and stop.Michelangelo

8 June 2008 @ 20:26 | 2 Comments

poor (zombie) mudpuddle

Publicity photos taken (and because I didn't get a chance to clean the make-up off pre-surgery, I found mascara in my ear this morning), and home from the surgery, which thankfully I slept through (the upside to being sensitive to drugs is that a dose which should make you drowsy in fact puts you straight to sleep), with half my face bandaged like some kind of new-made zombie.

I am miles and days and weeks behind on the copyedits, so in the meantime, have one of my favourite poems:

I am too alone in the world, and yet not alone enough
to make every hour holy.
I am too small in the world, and yet not tiny enough
just to stand before you like a thing,
dark and shrewd.
I want my will, and I want to be with my will
as it moves towards deed;
and in those quiet, somehow hesitating times,
when something is approaching,
I want to be with those who are wise
or else alone.
I want always to be a mirror that reflects your whole being,
and never to be too blind or too old
to hold your heavy, swaying image.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere do I want to remain folded,
because where I am bent and folded, there I am lie.
And I want my meaning
true for you. I want to describe myself
like a painting that I studied
closely for a long, long time,
like a word I finally understood,
like the pitcher of water I use every day ,
like the face of my mother,
like a ship
that carried me
through the deadliest storm of all.
— Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours

6 June 2008 @ 14:44 | 2 Comments

the writer … er, at work?

Copy-Edited Manuscript: 0.999

Author: 0.001

3 June 2008 @ 13:04 | 2 Comments

you can be the mystery that i am over trying to solve

The copy-edited manuscript did not arrive today, because apparently Australia Post do not believe in standing by their promises, so instead I have the first slab via email. This means I have a scan of a photocopy of the edits, so some of the comments are a little too pale to see … and it's still daunting.

Wish me luck. And perhaps send me some supplies. I'm going in.

Mystery (Emily Barker — Photos. Fires. Fables.)

30 May 2008 @ 20:43 | 6 Comments

i've found i'm scared to know i'm always on your mind

We may or may not be entering a realm of radio silence: some, if not all, of the edit letter has arrived, and the first slab of the copyedited manuscript is en route, and now the work begins. Again.

All of a sudden I'm glad I gave in to that urge to not re-read the manuscript, to not tweak at anything as soon as my editor mentioned it. By the time I've finished grovelling through this round of edits, I suspect I'll be yet more glad.

So forgive me if the posts become a little scanty over the next little while. In the meantime, have a photo of Spawn:

What she's doing here is diligently filling the window bays of the Three Little Pigs' house with dry cat food. The true genius of this moment was that, after she'd filled the bays to her satisfaction, she carefully carried the house into the kitchen and deposited it on the shelf where the cats eat.

Now why didn't we think of feeding the cats this way?

Collide (Howie Day — Stop All The World Now)

29 May 2008 @ 21:02 |

digging a hole and the walls are caving in

My hairdresser has a Facebook page. I don't know why this amuses me, since I'm in the minority in considering it an evil website, but nevertheless amuse me it does.

After my visit to said hairdresser, I now have trimmed locks and therefore stand an improved chance of not looking entirely shabby for my publicity photos next week — which, as I predicted, will be taken scarce hours before I go under the knife for the great face stitching. Better than scarce hours after, when I will no doubt present a more than passing resemblance to a stoned Phantom of the Opera ;)

In other book-related news, I am reliably informed that my edit letter will arrive later this week, upon receipt of which I will have "a little while" to make all the necessary fixes. Eep!

Since I had the opportunity to sit down and chat with my editor last week, for values of chat equal to she grilled me about all the holes and flaws and broken bits in the story1, I'm not expecting too much in the way of surprises. I am, however, utterly unversed in edit letters and estimating how much time making requested fixes will take. Although estimates are perhaps a moot point, given the publishing schedule will impose a deadline.

Perhaps it's lucky I'm going to be on sick leave from the dayjob. I shall be able to spend the days tucked in bed or on the couch with the laptop, moving commas and resurrecting and slaying characters as the whim and direction takes me. The pain meds should make it interesting, if risky for the quality of my work!

  1. An entertaining process whereby she asks, I explain the background, she looks puzzled and says "Where do we learn that?" and I reply "Um, in the second book…?" [↩]

The Fear You Won't Fall (Joshua Radin)

27 May 2008 @ 17:17 | 2 Comments
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