Sunday Pot-Pourri

The day job continues feral, with a forecast of extreme feral for the next month or thereabouts (mostly courtesy customer schedules). This probably corresponds to a Kate-fried level permanently in the ‘illegal in 90% of the world’ range. Those who know what my sense of humor does when I’m that fried understand. We’re talking entendre levels that make Nanny Ogg look subtle here.

Waiting on proofs for the print edition of Impaler. I have to keep reminding myself that this is lightning fast compared to traditional press publishing. Impaler would probably still be in a slush pile there. Of course, what I gain in speed I lose in the ability of my publisher to push my work, but that’s life. You gain on the swings, you lose on the roundabout.

I’m considering a series of posts on what should be in a writer’s metaphorical toolbox. I’ll probably kick it off with an explanation of where I’m coming from: the differences between talents, skills, gifts, and tools. Not sure where it will end up, but it should be interesting.


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