I was trying to daydream, but my mind kept wandering
Twitter tells me I haven't been by in a while to post about what I'm doing. I guess I've also been somewhat neglecting this particular outlet as well. I have no excuses or reasons. But the words are coming. Blogging is like riding a bike I don't want to be seen on. It's got tassels and a basket; I'm not precisely in sync with what it advertises.
Writing didn't happen last weekend, but oh the editing. The final proofing had to be done on the April release. Unlike last year, I actually had work to do, dialog to fix, mistakes to root out. I admitted a while back that last year I hardly even looked through the final proof. I thought to myself, "I've looked at this, what, fives times? Six? I'm sure by now it's fine." That wasn't the case, as I found out. Every time someone found a mistake, it seemed like I had to hear about it. Needless to say, I was motivated to prevent that from happening this time around.
Consequently, I spent the entire weekend combing through the entire book. I found mistakes, the kind that I would've found had I looked last year, the kind that can be found in a lot of print books at all levels of publication. I discovered that the difference, in a lot of cases and categories, is diligence. The obvious question is "how hard are you willing to work for what you want?" I haven't come up with a precise answer as yet, but I know I at least want to work hard enough that I have fewer regrets.
This week two different people compared me to two different authors. Well, the first person said that I reminded her of Steven Wright, and the second person said my writing is reminiscent of Glen Cook. Somehow, I feel like that leaves me as the artistic equivalent of the crack between couch cushions. No one hardly ever investigates, but those that do are always interestingly surprised at what they find.
In my reply to Twitter:
Writing didn't happen last weekend, but oh the editing. The final proofing had to be done on the April release. Unlike last year, I actually had work to do, dialog to fix, mistakes to root out. I admitted a while back that last year I hardly even looked through the final proof. I thought to myself, "I've looked at this, what, fives times? Six? I'm sure by now it's fine." That wasn't the case, as I found out. Every time someone found a mistake, it seemed like I had to hear about it. Needless to say, I was motivated to prevent that from happening this time around.
Consequently, I spent the entire weekend combing through the entire book. I found mistakes, the kind that I would've found had I looked last year, the kind that can be found in a lot of print books at all levels of publication. I discovered that the difference, in a lot of cases and categories, is diligence. The obvious question is "how hard are you willing to work for what you want?" I haven't come up with a precise answer as yet, but I know I at least want to work hard enough that I have fewer regrets.
This week two different people compared me to two different authors. Well, the first person said that I reminded her of Steven Wright, and the second person said my writing is reminiscent of Glen Cook. Somehow, I feel like that leaves me as the artistic equivalent of the crack between couch cushions. No one hardly ever investigates, but those that do are always interestingly surprised at what they find.
In my reply to Twitter:
Mia culpa. Took some weeks off actually doing things, instead of writing about doing things. Be back soon… or maybe not. Don’t wait up...
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