Bigger boat. Yeah.

Somewhere, in a proper alternate universe, we're having a Presidential funeral this week. Goodbye and Gods-rest, Ann Richards.

On the writing side:

A few nights ago I got mugged by a proposal. Full body slam down onto the pavement, it took my wallet, then left me bleeding and dazed in the morning. Madame Agent now has the short version in-hand, an editor is intrigued by my one-line descriptions, and we shall see what we shall see.

BB revisions continue, once I was cleaned up and put back in my chair. This is one bitch of a revision, and not simply because I keep getting interrupted. I think I prefer the 'hate the manuscript, enjoy the revisions' stage more than the reverse....

On the editorial side:

Remember that manuscript I was griping about a month or so ago? The one that was committing Stupid for the Sake of Plot?

Guess who just got asked to take on the next book from that author?

It's a compliment of sorts -- she apparently took well to my comments, and they know I can handle it. But oh, the masochism inherent in my "sure..."

As though to make up for it, I'm in the middle of editing a manuscript that I liked well enough to e-mail the editor and offer an unsolicited blurb for it, if they liked. They liked. So I'm not only editing it, and writing copy for it, but I'm blurbing it as well. If I had any artistic ability whatsoever, I could have done the cover, too... *wry g*

Here, it rains and is vaguely Octobery. Forecast calls for a return of sun (good) and summery conditions (bad). I have started the process of winterizing the burrow. Joy.

( and a quotey meme from marinarusalka )

and now I shall disappear for a bit...