I was waiting to hear some comments, positive or negative, about the first four hours of 24 before deciding whether to invest the time in the show this year. However, as it turns out, my subconscious made the decision for me–I set the VCR for the wrong channel when I taped the first two hours and got the Golden Globe Awards instead. So there, Jack Bauer, take that. I suppose I could remedy the situation if I heard that this was the best season of 24 ever, but I haven’t heard anything, so it can’t be that stellar, can it?
Received a paycheck for a short story in last night’s mail. Always a good thing. Said story won’t be out until late this year even though the anthology was supposed to come out far sooner. Circumstances conspired.
Still waiting to see the final version of the contract I’ve been avoiding talking about recently, but I passed the halfway point (by wordcount) of the manuscript this morning, clocking in at just over 16K at the end of the session. I spent part of last night reformatting the manuscript since, for some odd reason, I started out writing it single spaced with an extra blank line between paragraphs. I never do that–but I did. Took a while to pretty it up, get the headers right, etc.
This morning I finished Chapter 12, more or less. Now I have to go back and fill in the gaps. So far my approach has been working out fairly well. I spend the evening preparing for the next morning’s work, reading through various materials, pulling quotes, jotting references and constructing a loose outline in my mind. When I get to the keyboard in the morning, I’m ready to go. On the weekend, I wrote a chapter each day; during the week, it usually takes me two mornings to finalize a chapter. I plan to write new material for the rest of the week and then print out the manuscript as it stands at the end of the weekend and proof what I have to get ready for my first deliverable date on the 23rd.
The Monday night comedies were pretty good last night. Loved the killer robots on Big Bang Theory. And the guy with the lisp was a hoot. “What American accent is that?” asks Koothrappali. Two things take the show from the mundane–having the hot chick living next door who treats them like they’re aliens from another planet, and their self-realization that they’re misfits.
I’m almost finished Rick Mercer’s essay collection. Next up: Gunpowder by Joe Hill.
