Dead Matter

London I finished Lee Jackson’s Dirty Old London yesterday. It was highly enjoyable, Jackson’s work always is, and his site is a treasury of Victorian London awesomeness. I highly recommend him if you’re interested in Victoriana at all, he’s a fabulous resource and extremely readable.

The weekend was full of running hither and yon, what with birthday party doings (not my own, don’t ask) and spring cleaning. The author copies I’ve been holding onto have moved on–I do not need sixty copies of every book I’ve ever written, for God’s sake. I know some authors sell their copies, or send them out for review, but in both cases the cost of postage is prohibitive, not to mention the time investment. The remaining author’s copies–I keep five of each title, I think that’s reasonable–are now in bins instead of boxes, and all I need now is to pick up silica desiccant packs to throw in each bin, and all will be well. The garage is no longer choked with boxes, there’s room to breathe in there. Thank goodness–it was getting a mite thick.

The next step is going through old “foul matter,” proofs and manuscripts that have been superseded and so were sent back to me. (Also called “dead matter.”) I do want to keep those, but they need nice bins too, and the endgame is for those bins to be labeled so I know what I have. It’s a small dream, but it is my own.

Next up on my reading list is a collected works of Che Guevara, and an edition of his Guerrilla Warfare. After that, I intend to read the first Kurt Wallander book by Henning Mankell. We’ll see what happens.

But for now, it’s time to get out the door for a run, and crank out wordcount on Cal & Trinity, not to mention get my Latin lesson in and begin eyeballing copyedits. It’s definitely a Monday.