Thursday, September 19, 2002
It's late and I'm jittery and shouldn't be making an entry at all, but here goes. No news from Penguin today. My agent talked to my editor and maybe we'll know something tomorrow. Or Friday. Or Monday. This is just the way it goes. But it puts me on edge.
I deal very poorly with waiting. A writer who deals poorly with waiting is rather like a fisherman who never learned to swim. I wonder if my proposed career shift to private paranormal investigator would entail more or less waiting?
Hours spent online with people tonight, mulling over the Farscape situation. But I did unplug long enough to eat a salad (I wanted deli sushi, but wasn't up for a trip to the market) and watch The Matrix for the 70th or 80th time. I ought to crawl off to bed now, but I'll probably make another pass around the web. News? Let's see, "Waycross" is almost ready for the printers. Ted's finished the art and I'll have one more look at the layout. I spent a great deal of time today, during the headache that consumed most on the afternoon, staring at the J. K. Potter photo I've chosen for my story. Headaches can lead me places sometimes, if I bother to pay attention. I signed a book today for a girl in Saunderstown, RI, which was a little weird, as Saunderstown is where Thryn's currently living. Guess that's it for now. Sleep tight, kiddies.
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