This afternoon, the weather was warm enough, for the first time on a day off, to venture out with Iron Mike and do our walk. I still have no idea how long it is. It takes about thirty minutes. We don't walk slow.
On the way back, I stopped to check the mail. Mistake. Ended up juggling two large packages along with leash and keys. Thankfully, Mike's a sensible creature and didn't trip me.
At any rate, boxes!
The paperback copies of Blacker Than Black's first print run have arrived.
Some of them will have to wait until later this summer to be united with their owners, as I have been informed in no uncertain terms that I am not permitted to ship the autographed freebies out to them.
Fine then. They'll sit here and be randomly mauled by me over the next few months.
The other newly acquired shiny that arrived today was a special edition of a self-published anthology.
Behold, The Longest War, edited by John Holmes.
A compilation of tales from the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan, in the words of those who experienced it.
And dedicated to the fallen.
I expect I will love and cherish every word in this volume. The cover art is a work I've admired for some time; the story that accompanies it is a moving one.
And while The Longest War is moving to the top of the TBR pile despite all the half-finished things I'd been reading, I'm still making myself wait until I hammer out more of a wordcount each day than the piddle of two or three hundred words I've been managing as of late. It's strange; the inspiration is there for me, but the right words... are not.
I am a very slow writer, indeed.
No two ways about it.
I've always been more of a marathon runner than a sprinter, though. And comparing myself, my productivity and process, to other artists will never get me anywhere. I wish I could churn out stories faster, but it's just... not something I'm currently capable of doing.
Perhaps one day, when I have more time and breathing room to focus greater energies on my artistic endeavors, I will be able to do this. In the meantime, I poke and peck, and try not to get frustrated when things move more slowly than I'd like. It's counterproductive.
On the way back, I stopped to check the mail. Mistake. Ended up juggling two large packages along with leash and keys. Thankfully, Mike's a sensible creature and didn't trip me.
At any rate, boxes!
 |
| Paperbacks & Framed Cover Art |
Some of them will have to wait until later this summer to be united with their owners, as I have been informed in no uncertain terms that I am not permitted to ship the autographed freebies out to them.
Fine then. They'll sit here and be randomly mauled by me over the next few months.
The other newly acquired shiny that arrived today was a special edition of a self-published anthology.
 |
| Anthology of soldiers' stories, perched atop the TBR pile |
A compilation of tales from the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan, in the words of those who experienced it.
And dedicated to the fallen.
I expect I will love and cherish every word in this volume. The cover art is a work I've admired for some time; the story that accompanies it is a moving one.
And while The Longest War is moving to the top of the TBR pile despite all the half-finished things I'd been reading, I'm still making myself wait until I hammer out more of a wordcount each day than the piddle of two or three hundred words I've been managing as of late. It's strange; the inspiration is there for me, but the right words... are not.
I am a very slow writer, indeed.
No two ways about it.
I've always been more of a marathon runner than a sprinter, though. And comparing myself, my productivity and process, to other artists will never get me anywhere. I wish I could churn out stories faster, but it's just... not something I'm currently capable of doing.
Perhaps one day, when I have more time and breathing room to focus greater energies on my artistic endeavors, I will be able to do this. In the meantime, I poke and peck, and try not to get frustrated when things move more slowly than I'd like. It's counterproductive.
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