Let’s see how long this post grows to be; I’m not sure I have two brain cells left to rub together.
I’ll put it this way. I broke five figures on word count at work today. My head doesn’t just feel like mush. I felt the hamsters inside my head running on their wheels, the axle overheating, and the brain cells melting from the heat. I think if I put a bucket to my ear, I could catch my gray matter as it leaks out.
So, yeah, I am seriously fucking wiped.
In what came as no surprise, because I mentioned it a few days ago, I did not sell “In the Eve of Our Lives.” The issue of City Paper came out today, and I picked it up on the morning commute when I changed from subway to train. They got nearly three hundred entries, which is a fair number.
Don’t worry about me; I don’t feel bad. I have five potential markets for the story in mind. One’s online, the other four are print. I’ll print out the draft tomorrow, look it over, potentially bleed some red ink on it, and get it out the door next week.
And yes, that is the title of the story. No cutesy acronyms this time. “In the Eve of Our Lives.” Has a nice ring. The story itself is somewhat Joycean. I aim for Fitzgerald (not inappropriate for Baltimore; Fitzgerald wrote Tender is the Night while living here), and I’ve spoofed Hemingway. This one has a strange sense of time.
Oh, that was a really good yawn. 🙂
I did another sketch of the website semi-redesign, and I wrote down the code logic, though not the actual code, to make one major element of the design work. If I weren’t leaking neurons, I might’ve taken a stab at it tonight. 😉
No Sam Adams for me tonight. :cheers: