Editing first draft, round one complete. Phew. Grammar and I spent the last two months in the ring, and I came out bloody and bruised. Grammar came out of the ring looking like Ivan Drago from Rocky IV after he kills Apollo Creed, looking like a bad ass, staring at the cameras and insisting I learn proper sentence structure. I don’t know.  Currently I’m getting up to speed on the second book in the trilogy, and getting ready to write the second half of that sucker. Grammar can go water a plastic plant garden during the first draft for all I care. First draft is for me. 

The Plan:

Finish first draft of second book, start plot-hole-thematic-substance edit of book one. Once that’s wrapped, I’ll try to ask my friend to read it, then I’ll bite the bullet and send out the query letter, while starting first edit of Tokyo Area Novel.

The Sitch (Situation):

Scrapping by the skins of my teeth’s teethskin this month. Yes my teeth have teeth of their own, that’s a thing. It’s real, absolutely a real truthy science-like factulate. (Factulate is to facts as taco bell meat is to beef.) Rent barely got paid, and I may or may not have a new scar and a few less organs, but whatever, right? Landlord’s happy, who cares if I pass out every time I stand up. Planning to write a few short erotic stories, maybe toss my hat into the sex ring. Except my stories will have space sex with dragons made of sex.  Maybe. I dunno.  All I know for sure is that I’m not getting that hat back, and at this point I probably didn’t want it anyway. 

Thanks:

Quite a few people took fingers to keyboards, or at least thumbs to touch screens to remark upon the dire turn of my situation. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I am trying to develop a way to tangibly thank those people that doesn’t involve space sex or lint brownies. Maybe I can make a t-shirt for you to print/make and wear. Something. Maybe I’ll mug someone on the side of the road and force them to dance for you (Ok, don’t do that, mugging people is not cool, but more importantly, making people witness roadside dancing as they drive by is just wrong. Up there with killing babies. Which, protip, is also bad.)

Have you ever exactly bite an actual bullet? I haven’t. That seems like an incredibly bad idea, unless you’re Superman, the Terminator, (Summer Glau edition, please) or Wolverine. Please don’t bite any actual bullets. Thanks for reading this update, and till next time!

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