I Miss My Manuscript!

I think the next time I write a book, I’ll be better prepared for the sit-around-and-wait times. But ugh, good lord, this round is killing me. I was like an open dam, just gushing words for the book, for Pith, for here. And I’d spend an hour or two with the manuscript every night. Then I’d piss-and-moan about it here.

It was a process!

I miss my process!

I know letting it sit and being sure K. can finish it up without feeling rushed is crucial to the quality of the book and thus the likelihood of selling it. I know the last bit of feedback I’m going to get will be incredibly useful.

And my May 22nd goal of sending out my first query is just an artificial deadline, imposed by me, mattering to no one.

But these have been some of the most enjoyable months of my life. That is how I want my life to go. And so I sit here fantasizing about getting back into it.

Or fantasizing about casting the HBO series, which I feel is inevitable.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Seriously. Is Casey still around? I’m totally going to need him to go out for the part of Kevin, the wrestling folk artist of questionable morals. I can’t think of anyone working in Hollywood right now how just looks like a good ole boy in quite the right way.

Possibly my time would be better spent finding a stunt double to tell my parents about the book. I’m such a chickenshit.

Bunnies, Evil or Super Evil?

You know, sometimes I do feel bad when the cats bring home a half-eaten rabbit or mouse or mole. I’m not heartless and, though I know it’s the way of the world, it’s not something I revel in.

Unless I’m walking back to the house and I stop to check on my vegetables and I’m admiring all my seedlings, and I’m marveling at the peppers, and I’m trying to remember where I put the basil. Oh, right, by the tomat…

And where are my motherfucking tomatoes? And my broccoli?

This is why people container garden.

Oh, well, fine. I’ll just plant some more okra there. It’s beautiful. Still, there’s a whole yard of shit to eat. Go eat crap I don’t want to eat.

In other news, the white sage sprouting goes “eh.” I mean, I knew it was hard to sprout them, so I’m not disappointed, but I planted 24 and only 3 are up. Granted, they said 7-10 and it’s not quite been 14 yet. I feel like 14 is when I say “Okay, those didn’t work. Let’s replant.”

And I am still not satisfied with the lack of lily of the valleys in my garden. So, clearly, along the shed isn’t going to work out. I don’t know if they don’t get enough sunlight over there or what, but even the one that came up just kind of petered out in an ugly manner. I’m wondering about putting some on the back side of the dark spot in my garden, near where the Salomon’s Seal is thriving.

And I am about to have roses on one of my pink roses! And one of the irises I transplanted last fall is going to bloom this year. I take that as a sign they’re happy in their new home.