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Relative Distinction

Well, it’s Monday, and back to work. I sent off the submissions draft of Finder’s Watcher late Friday night, and then had to catch up on everything I let slide during the push to finish that revision. On the bright side, a tonne of housework got done. The Princess arrived home from work exhausted to find good smells and plenty of snacks, and the Prince remarked that it was nice to see me taking a weekend off, for a change.

Little did either know I’m about to start on another, far more difficult and hazardous round of revisions. (Insert evil laugh here.) So will begin about a month of revising, cross-checking, muttering to myself, and wondering why on earth I made such a complex, fragile world.

I can see why gods are cranky most of the time. There’s always something that needs doing.

In any case, there’s the dogs to walk, a morning run to get in, prep, more prep, and a daily goal or two to set. If I try to look at the entire revision mass I’ll go mad; much better to break it into tiny chunks and chew on each in turn. It’s the Mouse Theory of Revising–each bite mannerly indeed, like the girl who ate the whale in the Shel Silverstein poem.

There’s also a Soundtrack Monday post to get done, since I took last week off. And I probably should have worked on the monthly newsletter, but the engine inside my head’s been in the red for so long things were starting to melt. I’m on a long course now, where I can–and should–take the curves a little more slowly.

That’s me, beating a metaphor almost to death. Sometimes I wonder if I ever experience anything directly without filtering it through the writer in my head, or without comparing it to a screen of other things. Then I think everything is relative, and living is only a matter of distinction.

I also need to finalize next year’s writing schedule. It would be nice if trad publishing would get off its ass and return decisions in a reasonable amount of time. I’ve already had to pull Sons of Ymre from submission to trads because they were sitting on their hands; that’ll probably be a self-pub title this upcoming year. If I can fit in The Highlands War I think I might; that’s been hanging fire for long enough. I at least want to get Kaia back to civilization in Antai before bringing that to a close.

I probably won’t write her and Darik’s return to G’maihallan; piracy continues to rob readers of things they really love. Each time I find the books pirated, I know it’s because some asshole just wants to hurt and violate, and it feels like someone’s spread offal on my bed. The next time one of your friends proudly trumpets that they don’t pay for books, that authors are rich and charge too much anyway, well, there it is.

Anyway, I need to figure out a prize big enough to reward myself at the end of this revision. Which will have to be a doozy, since I go straight into Book 3 of the trilogy after I’m done. And I’ll be revising Season Two of HOOD at the same time. Spaceships in the morning, preindustrial court espionage in the afternoon, evenings and weekends for things that make me feel human again.

It’s not a bad schedule. If I can keep it up for a month or two–Yule notwithstanding–I might feel as if I’ve caught up.

Might.

Enjoy your Monday, my dears. A Soundtrack Monday post is coming up around 2pm PST, for your delectation…