The vanishing comic shop

So, once a month I make the arduous trek five miles down the thoroughfare, across the interstate and through the back streets of another community to get to the strip center that houses the only comic shop in the vicinity that I’m aware of. I’ve been doing this ever since the first of the Marvel Dark Tower installments appeared. Before that, I never knew the place existed. Well, now it doesn’t. Yesterday, when I went to get The Long Road Home #3 and Locke and Key #3, there was a “Space for Rent” sign in the window. As we used to say back home: There she was…gone! I can’t say I’m surprised. It wasn’t a very big operation (not like one shop I was in closer to Houston, which looked more like a bookshop with shelves and tables and huge displays. This place was pretty sparse, and any time I went in, not heavily trafficked. I had to wonder how many comics or graphic novels a guy would have to sell in order to pay the rent, utilities and earn a living. Apparently my $8.50 per month wasn’t doing it. Guess I’ll just have to frequent an online retailer from now on.

I started a new short story this morning, writing about 900 words, which I figure is half the story. It’s due very soon, so I have to get my act together. I thought I’d be able to work on it during off hours (evenings, weekends), but I wasn’t getting anywhere that way so I decided to put morning session novel revisions on the back burner for a few days, at least until I get the first draft finished. I can edit during off hours, but my overall creativity isn’t so good then. I was at a reasonable stopping point in novel revisions, having finished rewriting an obsolete scene. The protagonist of the new story is a bit of a stretch for me, so we’ll see how it is received by the editors.

Nothing much exciting on the tube these past couple of days. Nothing comment-worthy. I remembered Back to You last night, a show I seem to have a hard time keeping track of. I think it’s funny to discover that Montana isn’t really Hispanic, and the gag about the mixed up hormones was decent. I also liked that we see that Patricia Heaton’s character can be every bit as shallow as Chuck Darling.