Crashing Deadlines! DUCK!

Yup. I know. I haven’t been around a lot this last week.

Oi! You would not BELIEVE the deadline crash in my head and on my computer!

I used to think “Oh, hey, you can juggle anything as long as you can do it at home!”

Oh gees–the hubris!

Seriously–man, the hubris! For one thing, I’ve been editing Alpha, and my old Nemesis, Plot Math, has been sitting on my head with big, fleshy ass cheeks. GEAWD that edit took forever. For another, I’ve been trying to finish up with Clear Water, and yes, Plot Math is sitting in THAT manuscript, laughing his fat ass off. Fucker. In my next life I’m going to be Virginia Woolf or James Joyce or some shit like that so I can poke him with a big stick and scream “Stream of consciousness! Unpredictable narrator! Collapsed time and postmodernist perspective! Fuck off and DIE ya big-balled-bastard! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Or, you know, something like that. Seriously–I used to listen to people tell me that sci-fi fantasy must be SOOO easy to write since you “made it all up yourself!” Well YEAH–that means it all has to be consistent or it all falls down the fucking toilet like a swooning cricket!

Seriously–I’ve done contemporary and I’ve done urban fantasy and regular fantasy and science fiction–they all have their challenges. With contemporary it’s checking your facts. With everything else, it’s keeping them straight. The differences are negligible and it’s all harder for the linearly challenged than we like to admit.

So, I’m lost in deadline deadline land, but I can share a few moments with you:

A.
This is the face of evil. You think I’m joking? I was sending one of those deadlines in last night when two kids came up to me. I looked at one kid, I looked at the other, and then I looked at my computer where the cat had just sat down and ASS-DIALED my computer, sending the damned e-mail before it’s ready. Evil, I’m telling you. Concentrated evil.

B.
Look mom! I can do something new with my feet!

C. Our LYS got yarnbombed again. May I present to you, the Thinker, the Flirt, and the 4th of July pole!

(And by the way, can I just say that the trip to the LYS worked wonders as therapy–I felt like my head might no longer pop off and I could MANAGE not to kill something. Ahhhh… yarn fumes.)

And now, I must run away to take kids to gymnastics, and after that? Yeah. You guessed it. More deadlines. DUCK!