Happy Sunday everyone! I hope your holiday was filled with fun and explosions, if you celebrated. I spent much of the week without a functional keyboard, in a strange town, writing with my iPad and iPhone and generally just hating screen typing, taking pictures of the sky and trying to not be more afraid of the outside world than my cat.
The trilogy rattles along with book 2 sitting at 74.6 thousand words, but the newest short story is crackling along at 1000 words, and feels very crunchy. I like crunchy fiction, and I just hope this short stays on the rails and doesn’t try to jump the tracks and go gallumping over the sagebrush and the rattlesnake trees of Novella land, or try to head for the Sea of Novels. I really could do with a short snappy story that stays under ten thousand words. But we’ll see.
Staging an enormous space battle means telling physics to go bugger itself, which you can really only do in fiction related work, but the world building should at least look in the direction of plausible science, if only to casually shrug and give it a sarcastic smirk and dip of the chin. So I’m plotting the battle out in my head, (using Google Sketchup, Blender or Photoshop) mindful of the three dimensional (or four dimensional) nature of space battles, while always consulting Atomic Rockets and cursing my weak mental grasp on all things number-sorcery. I also need to design new space ships for the spoiler-filled scenes and oh yes, probably design an entirely new species/race for the ending and Book 3.
So that should keep me busy. Except—and here’s the thing, I’m like an absent minded scholar penning her life’s work in the library of Alexandria while the ceiling is burning. I need to raise rent money for August and money for the move in September, and for various bills and what not. That’s about $4500, (August rent, security deposit, first and last on a new place) which means I’ll either need to do a donation drive, or an art-portrait social media avatar type sale. Or something. And I’m a bit perplexed. I SHOULD be terrified, but I just can’t seem to get to that point, which should be worrisome in and of itself. We’ll see.
Things on the home front are pretty awesome. Daisuke is almost three, and soooo tall. He’s taller than a yard stick, which is pretty amazing, considering in 2010 the whole of him fit into the crook of my arm from elbow to palm. My mom is doing alright too, and the spouse and I are having fun lamenting the fact that our favorite summer shows are ending. I have a lot to be thankful for, even with financial worries. Not the least of which is you. Thanks for reading, and being there for me. I appreciate the support, the emails, the Facebook chats, even the silent lurkers out there who read but never leave comments. :) Take care, everyone, and may you find yourself at peace while the world is burning down too.