I'm at that weird stage when I'm waiting for the results of about five meetings, which probably means I'll only ever hear from about two of them. Tch. At which point I've got bored with World of Warcraft. Damn. And there's no good comics around these days either. Harrumph.
On the plus side, I managed to pick up the dictionary of imaginary places for under a fiver in a nearby bookshop, then headed over to Jess Nevin's site to see that the book version of his Fantastic Victoriana site is getting very close to completion - over here.
And then after an interesting debate with Todd over at twitch film, I was put onto a writer called Charles Williams, of whom I had never previously heard. So that's all quite promising.
Talking to Agent Sarah about editing the Cabinet - the good news is it's mostly cutting down rather than having to put in new stuff (although I'm sure there'll be some of that too). And the last thirty or forty pages, which I was a bit worried about, as I was a bit tired, and felt that it was going in a slightly different, darker direction to the rest of the book, turned out to be her favourite bit. In fact, I have an inkling (unintentional quite complicated pun) that the book may work better if the middle gets slapped about a bit, and brought in line with the end*. Probably won't be dressed up in a bow and tarted about publishers until mid-January now.
The only wasp in the tincture is that m'flatmate gets home tomorrow, after being away for a pleasingly long time, having just texted me a list of surfaces she'd like me to clean for her arrival. This did not Go Down Well, and I suspect there will be Words.
If any millionaires with second/third/fourth homes in Cornwall, specifically around the Falmouth area, are reading this, and would like to offer me cheap/free** housing for a while, I would be prepared to put aside my normally militant views on cornish second-home buying. I will also try and crowbar your name into a script somewhere but I can't guarantee anything.
I am quite clean and tidy. Hence the sudden onrush of what can only be described as 'tetchiness'.
*Grrr. Writing is manly job. Off to fight gerunds now.***
**You don't get if you don't ask.
*** Like in that very good Woody Allen short story, the name of which escapes me.