†My son is, given his first vaccination status, going back to school for the first time since May 2020. He’s grown a LOT in the intervening time, and he’s also filled up his sketchbook, because it likes making visual art.
††The Wing Sung 618 is being set aside for amendment– there’s an interruption in the ink channel of the feed that requires force-filling of the collector. Unsatisfactory, in an otherwise darned good pen.
So, yeah… no entries here at all last week. I had to apply my time to the scraping down of the story… and more time than that. Victory came as the light faded from the sky on Friday– the final count was 4951 words (1305 below the last time I called it finished), AND YET the story still made sense.
This may explain a couple of previous rejections.
To explain the next rejection, I decided to change the title at the last moment. I made sure that this change was not only on the title page, but also reflected on the page headers (look up Shunn format, if you’re curious) and also in the name of the file. BUT NOT in the email’s title, which still had the old name. So, a lot of work followed by pointing a gun at my own foot– perhaps I’ll miss.
A quick bit of film to make up for Friday’s absence. This week should be more sensible, although who can really predict… the future?
I think henceforth we might take it was given that Monday’s are unproductive, thanks to the thing I mentioned at the end of last month. It wasn’t an issue last week because, as it was a new thing, I forgot about it entirely until the next day. For the foreseeable future, though, Mondays are going to be opposed to writing.
†Two pages? Two?!In a whole week? Well, not really. That’s two pages today, while the rest of the week was spent trying to build up enthusiasm for any of the stories in the idea hopper.
I’m not particularly happy with that. I am absolutely putting it down to work stress; the volume of work has somehow kept rising throughout the COVID period. There’s supposed to be a slack tide in the middle of the month, damn it!
I was also dilatory on my Magic Brain Pills a couple of weeks back, and have perceived maybe not the black dog itself but certainly the smell of its cold, damp fur. A better effort at periodic swallowing since should see the chemistry back where I’d like it.
‡ A note not about the ink, but about the absence of a link to a profile. My new computer arrived!
Yay!
I still can’t update the site effectively!
Ya… wait, what?
It’s the sort of thing that will rise up like a patch of cursed bog to confront you when you don’t replace your computer for a decade or so. That program you like? The one that you’re very familiar with?
Yes, that’s right. It’s not compatible with the new OS. One of the reasons for that is, as you’ll discover when you go looking, that the company behind the program stopped offering software at some point in the past three years or so, and now make sensor hardware.
This is deeply inconvenient when the program is question is the one that you… or rather I, have been processing all my images through. Cleaning them up, Trying, despite appearances, to get them to be consistent in tone and brightness. Editing out moles and other blemishes on the otherwise smooth skin of my models.
Which means that I have to both find a replacement and figure out it works before I can add yet more images to my image-rich site. And also resist the urge to play World of Warships, which is something the new computer can offer, unlike the previous one. I’m leaning towards something in the GIMP direction, and not just because that’s an unkind nickname I hung on my brother when I was about eight.
† This is a much more satisfactory title than “Ancestral Curse”. Trust me.
† As we gear up at The Regular Job for post-COVID operations, there’s been some shuffling, and one of the effects this has upon me is taking both barrels in the face of this question: “You don’t mind covering the front desk over lunch, do you?”
It’s not a big deal, but the Selfish Artist trope who is among the multitudes which I contain is grumbling. I still have, technically, the full length of my lunch break, it just doesn’t start until 12:45. However, acting upon that seriously truncates the afternoon. I think I may have mentioned that I am extremely busy with Real Job lately?
This is likely to become less of a problem as we get back to more usual staffing levels (like many, I desperately hope that COVID marks the turn of an epoch, and the world will not simply return to status quo ante, but at a personal level… more people on-site to help with the lifting at Regular Job, please). It’s also not what I’m used to, and that is frequently enough to make a thing onerous.
I just put in the order for the new computer. I know that for some a new computer is a trivial expense, or perhaps a minor inconvenience. I’m not like that. Three people, one paycheck (plus the vast wealth which writing short fiction generates); it’s not an arrangement with a lot of loose cash. So, the strange fluttering in my chest at the prospect of a new, fully-functional computer arriving on the doorstep soon is… hard to ascribe a genesis to.
Oh, look; it’s next month’s credit card statement.
Let’s put terror aside, now, and consider horror. Fun horror.
Had I a little thought to spare at the moment, I might do my own suggestions in this style, but for the moment– that’s a pretty solid list.