Onward, ever onward. Cal and Trinity have moved to the forefront, since I’m no longer writing SKIN for publication.That will mean a little extra time for Rose & Thunder, too. Of course, first I have to decide if I’m really going to take C&T to Argentina. It will mean a little more research, but also, tango! It’ll be fun.
I’m suffering one of those periods in the writing life when one looks at the sheer number of people stealing copies of one’s work (otherwise known as e-piracy) and the slowness with which publishers move when it’s time to pay one, and wonders why one isn’t an accountant or something else. Writing is better than working retail, by far, but some days, man. Some effing days.
Fortunately I have the dogs and the kids, and a kitchen timer to remind me that life is made up of small daily efforts, even on days when weeping seems the only thing possible.
Weeping or just cocking my head and regarding the world with bemusement, since I found a fish in the backyard this morning. It was in a sad and sorry state, but it was definitely a fish, and the dogs had been at it. I took it away and put it outside the gate where they can’t get to it, and am about to go down and bury it near the roses. A proper burial, but I might not be able to say much in the way of good words for it, since I’m wondering how the fuck a dead fish got into my backyard. The fish is a stranger, so it’ll have to be a generic service. Also, I love how half my Twitter timeline is now Noah’s Ark jokes, and the other half is actively problem-solving how to get a fish in my backyard, and both sides are vocally in favor of a fish funeral.
So this is how Tuesday’s gonna be. All right. *cracks knuckles* I’m off to bury a fish.