My agent recently linked to a post by John Scalzi about finding the time to write. The gist of it is “Do or do not, there is no try”, and several people said “It’s not that simple.” John’s point is that it is, in fact, that simple, but that one should not confuse simple with easy. I feel like I’m finding a lot of simple things to be not particularly easy at the moment. There’s a whole lot I want to get done. Most of it is simple. Finish my…
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Indonesian fundraiser
I dunno if you’ve been following the disasters that have been hitting Indonesia lately, but it’s been one thing after another–tsunamis, volcanoes, floods–and every time I hear about one of them I wince, because my “Take A Chance” artist, Ardian Syaf, is Indonesian, and I keep fearing his area will be hammered. So far it hasn’t been. But Ardian–who has gone on to great things with Marvel and DC (especially DC)–is selling his Batman “Blackest Night” issue one, page one art as a fundraiser for disaster relief in his home…
five years
I moved to Ireland five years ago today. My nephew, age two and a half, announced excitedly as we came into Dublin, “Auntie Catie, Auntie Catie, this is the Wiver Wiffey!” I often think about that as I cross the Wiver Wiffey now. :) And about four hours after I arrived, jet-lagged and exhausted, my sister said to me, brightly, “So how do you like living in Ireland?” *laughs* The answer is, pretty well. For the first year or 18 months or so we kept saying “It’s like living in…
some things make a post
I went to Baby Cinema today and saw “The Kids Are All Right”, which I think misappropriated the title of The Who song, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s the sort of movie I wanted to see and would have felt vaguely disappointed about not seeing but now having seen it I can safely say I wouldn’t actually have missed it if I hadn’t seen it. (Capiche?) Probably most of that is due to Mark Ruffalo, who I find to be not so much unattractive as creepy, so his…
repetitive motion injury
Last night my wrist started hurting. It felt thick, like it needed to be popped (a very familiar sensation, from working four years on the slime line in a cannery), but I couldn’t get it to pop. I took some aspirin and went to bed and noticed it was still vaguely thick-feeling this morning. It didn’t hurt, though, until I scooped Young Indiana up and swept him around in the fashion I usually do. And my wrist went “HEY MOTHERF*CKER WATCH WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” So now I have a wrist…