I got everything but going to the bank done today. Um, I didn’t gym, either. But I did walk a couple miles, at least. Maybe I’ll gym and go to the bank tomorrow. My big victory for the day was not going and getting sweets after I’d been walking around. I was hungry, but I went home and made dinner instead. And it wasn’t even a fried egg sandwich. Go me. :) Hey. I’m *writing* again. I could start watching Highlander! …except I’m waiting for some people from a moving…
more chance roughs
After lots of wrestling with it, I decided to stick with the script I’ve got. I’ve been thinking of doing kind of screen-shots of each page of the script with the corresponding roughs beside it; would people be interested in that? Or is it more fun to try to decide what the story is on your own? :)
knights in shining armor
My cousin Heidi has a little boy, Dane, who is eleven days younger than Breic. Dane, like Breic, is a Knight in Shining Armor (although Breic calls the costume “my knight in shining armor”, if you want to get picky about it all). They are so cute I could scream. :) Dane (please look carefully at his reflection, off to the left): Breic: There are two more pictures, Breic on his Noble Steed and Dane coming to the attack!, which really ought not be missed. :) One of these days…
safely there
Ted’s called, and he and the animals have made it to Cobh safely. He remembered to bring his laptop, but forgot the power cord for it. Oops. But he made it down there, and starts work tomorrow, and is excited about it, so that’s all good. I’ll be glad to get down there and be with him. Missing his first day of work was not the plan. There are probably ten thousand packing things I should do tomorrow. What I’m going to do is go to the bank, the post…
Dammit.
Dammit. I *know* I wrote beatsheets for issues 2-6 of Chance, back whenever that was. 2003? 2002? 2004? 2003, I think. Because it was before I sold Urban Shaman, but after Manifest Destiny had placed in the RMFW contest. Yeah. Cover letters indicate 2003. And cover letters also indicate that it is not my imagination: I *did* write those beatsheets. I cannot find copies *anywhere*. They’re not on Little, they’re not on this computer, they’re not on Nook, they’re not on the new laptop. I’m pretty sure I *wrote* them…