Welcome to Monday, everyone! Whew.
Late last week (literally at closing time on Friday) I finished the revisions on The Black God’s Heart, and scheduled them to go back to the editor this very morning. I also got the first draft of a really exciting project to a separate editor, which means three full-size manuscripts went out the door.
No wonder I’m feeling a bit woozy. That’s a lot of parturition in a short while.
Never fear, though, I’m not at all at loose ends. There’s groceries to acquire for the next few weeks, and I can now crawl back into Hell’s Acre and get the charity ball sorted, not to mention a few other things. I’ve been aching to get back into New Rome, especially as Avery Black needs to be in far more trouble than he currently is.
There’s even more good news–everyone chez Saintcrow has their Covid booster appointment scheduled and confirmed, with bonus flu shot. I have rarely had the latter before and am not looking forward to possible side effects, but it’s far, far better than suffering (or passing along, gods forbid) either the plague or influenza. My only problem is that every single place offering boosters seems to be actively making it as difficult as possible to schedule, though I am attempting to take the route of kind optimism and telling myself it’s probably because so many people are now getting their shots. I’d rather have it be that than any malevolence, or even incompetence.
I’m not allowed to work today. Thankfully (for some value of thankful, I suppose?) I have a mountain of administrivia to work through, between year-end stuff and things I didn’t get done because I was pushing to get Black God’s out by deadline. The relief of crossing the latter off my master to-do list was intense, let me tell you.
And that’s about all the news that’s fit to print. The dogs are very eager for walkies; things like deadlines and paperwork mean less than nothing to them. I admire their focus on the truly important things, like breakfast and strolling around the block, not to mention skritches, snuggles, and treats.
We’re almost through another year. I plan on entering 2022 cautiously, using a very long stick to open the door. I will not make eye contact in case the new year considers it a sign of aggression, and will be speaking very softly to it, attempting to soothe. I think that’s best, don’t you?
I suppose I’d best get started. The paperwork won’t do itself, more’s the pity.
See you around.