The last cold snap has arrived, and it’s relatively mild. I needn’t have worried about that early-blooming lilac, though I’m sure if I hadn’t things would have gone quite differently. It’s not a question of individual power but of Murphy’s Law; the older I get the more I begin to think ol’ Murph was a sage who knew a thing or two.
There’s a tradescantia needing repotting, and I have to turn the hangers for the airplane plants so tropism will bring them back t’other way. Playing with potting soil sounds far more appetizing than the other work needing to be done today, so I’m keeping it for a reward. Gamble needs one more pass to tuck in or snip stray threads, then it can go back to the editor; there’s business correspondence to be handled and toads to be swallowed.
I’d rather be writing. That’s a constant, though.
Once Gamble is out the door there are revisions on Chained Knight to go through, then that particular Tale of the Underdark will be ready for the next stage in the publishing pipeline. After that Doom of the Elder needs attention so it can be sent to the editor, which I might not be looking forward to since the series has had such a difficult go of it.
At least I can spend time with Highlands War in the mornings. We’re at the raids leading up to the second pitched battle at the crest of the book’s third quarter; I have the rest of it all thought out but dear gods, this one’s a monster. It will easily be 120-150k words, not bad for epic fantasy, yet I weep when I think of the revising and editing it’ll need. I’m nearly at the point where I don’t want to bring it out for wider publication, but that’s a decision I’ll make when I’m not exhausted and nerve-strung.
I knew April would be a dilly of a month and May will likely be worse. Still, I’ve spent significant time planning–yes, no plan ever survives contact with reality, but the very act of getting contingencies together is indispensable. It’s not so much being prepared as being flexible; the latter is far easier when one has set up a framework, no matter how useless said frames turn out to be in practice. Having something to start with and build on makes the whole thing loads less frightening, even if most of that something has to be thrown out. (A lever and a place to stand, as Archimedes muttered.)
Boxnoggin is basking in a bar of spring sunshine, but his ears are up and he would very much like me to stop staring at the glowing box. There are things to sniff and bark at today; that’s his plan, and often matches reality. The dog’s damn near a master of strategy.
See you around.