My work.
Page one, of the book that was. My story now starts 80 ms pages later, and is no longer first person. Meet Dr. Ben Alexander–who back then was Dr. Mark Gawlownskey. (don’t ask) I’m no fool. I didn’t belong down here. But if necessity is the mother of invention, desperation fathers recklessness. Since I needed […]
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I love this poem. I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and
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You know, on reflection, I should be worried. Or someone should, anyway. Remember that graphic novel I want, Grey? SPOILER–pretty much everybody dies. Violently. Justy? As much as he tries to avoid it, SPOILER–pretty much everybody in front of him dies. (the background characters mostly survive.) And then after I blogged, I remembered another book
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BJ and I met for lunch, and as is usual in our discussions, worked out some kinks. You may remember I’d not gotten very far, before I ran into a wall on the new Eve manuscript. I figured out, in talking to her, that it’s because I’ve changed things so much. I need to give
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