Thursday, May 14, 2015

Hate Keeps a Man Alive

It's not hate, actually, and I'm told it's perfectly natural at this point. I'm in the process of rereading my manuscript in order to write the synopsis, and of course because I'm a editor/freakin' loon it's turned into yet another edit. And I hate the book because it sucks and was made with the offal of diseased water buffalo and should only be given as a punishment to our worst prisoners and . . .

Well, I'm told it's normal to feel this way right about now, when the damn thing is written and edited over and over and WHY ISN'T IT ON THE TOP OF THE DAMN NYT CHARTS ALREADY? After the synopsis comes the process of trying to find an agent, and during that I need to get busy writing again, although whether on stories or starting a rewrite of my second manuscript I'm not sure yet. I have one story sold that's waiting to be published (since July, but that's okay because I love the mag and it's people and they had some tough stuff going on) and another two stories out that haven't been rejected yet (jinxing myself there). A friend had a successful writer offer me some advice about getting published, and while it turned out I was on the right track anyway she had some good tips as well. I was very non-demanding with advice requests. I'm not good at asking people for help.

Running my PF game is a challenge between finding the time to prep and trying to keep the PCs challenged, as they're too damn smart and min/maxxed for their own good. At 11th level they're damn near overflowing with crazy-ass feats and abilities, and when the terrible adventure path one of the players who's no longer with us begged for years ago gives me monsters with bow attacks of +13/+10 for a whopping 1d8 +3 damage, it's tough to keep them scared. I'm improvising more and more while following the bare bones of the script. They are not gonna like Grunezellda. And if I ever bring dweomercats back the wizrd might throw a bottle at me. Still, everyone seems to be having fun and that's the point, right? Right.

Almost killed myself with back to back hockey nights. My right knee was an angry customer Tuesday morning. And no, I shan't act my age.

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