Normalcy (Or A Reasonable Facsimile Thereof)
Which means, writing. Bludgeoning fuck-tons of writing.
Which is good. I like writing.
Take today, for instance.
In addition to this series project that sent me to LA, I’ve also got Secret Film Project up and about and begging for attention. Today, it got that attention. Been hammering out the fourth draft, and more and more, that draft took me to the Land of Rewriting rather than the Small Town of Revising. Total new content: probably about 40-50% of the whole shebang.
Today, rocked through about 20-25 new pages.
Those pages took me to the conclusion of the draft. Bingo, bango, boom.
So. That’s two projects that feel on solid legs.
What happens now?
I hit Hunter: Compacts & Conspiracies with an unmatched verve, an inhuman tenacity. I’ve actually got a lot of this done, but I need to pick up steam again and deliver all that huntery goodness you all demand.
I also plink away at Shadowstories, which is coming along nicely. You think the five chapters up are good (er, you do think they’re good, don’t you? don’t you?), wait till you see the… er, 30 or so we’ve hammered out after that. Good times.
Then? Shit, I dunno. I’m always looking for work, so if anybody has it, shoot it my way. I’ve got two short stories scratching at the door. I’ve got some scripts to package for an agent out on the Left Coast. Probably more script finessing. I have to find a place for this novel I’ve got all wrapped up in a neat li’l bow. Hopefully we’ll hear good news on the results of the LA trip. I dunno. Not sure where I go from here. Always looking for the next rung of the ladder. Taking suggestions, of course.
Oh, that image. Well. Took that in Century City. Darling Klaatu. Guardian of doorways, apparently.