The Garret

From the intern’s desk...

Ah, rejection letters. You know, nothing says “don’t take me seriously” quite like an SASE with a pink sparkly address label on it. Siriusly, people.

Last week I went to the Eastside Culture Crawl, which is like a pub crawl except with art and truffles instead of beer. Things I saw:

-A world in a moon-bubble splashed up from an acid ocean
-A spiraling fairy coronet of copper wire and copper roses, sort of like a space-age Brian Froud tiara
-A Jumbo Shrimp nebula
-Evening dark clouds on a dark sea. The painter of this one apparently plays the violin, according to one of his studio-mates and the music stand in the corner. Allegedly he comes in late at night to play alone in the empty building. I think that is very sensible of him, in a romantic kind of way. It is just what I should do if I were him.

( Old Movies, New Movies, and The Publishing Course Chronicles )

I am in love with this song. It suits my mood perfectly. Perfectly.

It is much easier to write a cover letter for a manuscript submission, even a practice letter, if one actually has a manuscript. Has anybody else noticed this? I have noticed this. I have to write a cover letter for class this week, so today I finally gave up faking and wrote a story in three hours. Now I have most of a cover letter, and a picture book manuscript in serious need of revision.

The main problem is, of course, that I don’t really want to write a picture book. Ah well.

In other news, my left eye has developed a tic, and I have revenged myself on snowqueenofhoth for all the jrock by brainwashing her with the screechy awesomeness of the Dixie Chicks.

Current book: The Grand Tour by Patricia C. Wrede & Caroline Stevermer, hence (sort of) the icon

I have just realized something about my Goat-Girl stories. There’s no angst or personal drama, ever. Everyone is just too darn happy. For a girl who’s spent half her life as a goat, our heroine is amazingly well adjusted. Somebody will have to have a Dark and Mysterious Past.

snowqueenofhoth, this song is entirely too catchy. It is like a Japanese "Surfin' USA". I blame you.

( Herein lies still more Book Madness... )


The people in my publishing class are providing me with lots of fodder for observation. There is the one with green hair and combat boots; the previously-published one; the one who starts every sentence with “JK Rowling...”

This is going to be entertaining.

Oh sweet, sweet Internet!

I am at last moved into my Very Own Totally Mismatched Basement Cave of Awesome. There will need to be pictures; it is indeed that awesome. I have a kitchen/living room, bathroom, hall room, bedroom, closet/room full of pipes, laundry room, and music room. (The last is a music room simply because it has a hardwood floor and I have no furniture to put in it other than a carved Mexican chair with no armrests. Hence, music room!)

( Round and round they go. Watch closely, but remember: the plot glitch is faster than the eye! )

Um... so, hi. I'm still alive, which may come as something of a shock given my recent radio silence, as it were. Be assured that I am as well as can be expected, considering that half my life is given over to disgusting and unspeakable things and half is mostly awesome. More later if I can find some decent Internet. Le sigh. I miss you all. What larks we should have, if only you were here!