Sep. 25th, 2007

wednes: (Default)
In case I haven't mentioned it, I'm getting married very soon. Very, very soon.
Next week I have to hire the new caterers and probably give them a deposit of some kind. I have to pay the cake lady and take H to go get the license. I still have to put the gifts together, write notes to everyone who's helping, fold the favors (hopefully [livejournal.com profile] missgrete will want to help with that) and do a zillion more things I don't feel like listing here. My face is all broken out, presumably from wedding stress combined with work stress.

Speaking of work, I called in sick today because I am in fact, pretty sick. So that's one ass kicking I owe Nate for giving me whatever kind of queasy, scratchy crud this is.

Bad news, I was reading over the beginning of my serial killer novel. Turns out, it isn't very good. The early narration downright sucks in the light of day and sobriety. So I've got that I need to be working on too. If I can just figure out what needs to change, I can save the actual rewrite until after the wedding. No sense giving myself an extra thing to stress over. At the same time, I don't want to get behind.


I am going to die at 85.  When are you? Click here to find out!


I saw something today that totally bummed me out. Famed horror and etc. writer, Poppy Z Brite ([livejournal.com profile] docbrite) was posting about how some reviewer speculated unkindly about her motives for blogging. Apparently it, among other things, was making her rethink her choice to keep her blog, which I read regularly and enjoy very much. It leads me to wonder, just how fucking famous and successful do you have to be before the random judgments of virtual strangers stop bothering you? Myself, I'm looking quite forward to telling mean pundits and half assed reviewers to go fuck themselves if my books sells any copies at all. I'll almost surely have more fans than negative reviews, right? I hope so at least. Then again, I thought getting a publishing contract would be enough to validate me as a writer, and I still don't feel particularly validated. I guess it's just another one of those demons I'll have to battle through a combination of therapy, drugs, and EMDR. ;-]

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