And the electrician poured his ones and zeros into the Google document and cried, “It is done!” And lo, the final draft of a novel he’d been working on and off for some twenty years was finished.
Now comes the next step: agent hunting. This stage requires two more documents: the query letter and the summary. Both items require specific frames of mind. I have left the realm of spinning tales of fiction and entered the shadowlands of self-marketing. As with everything, the secret is to find intrinsic joy in the doing. My inner Julie Andrews sings of spoonfuls of sugar helping the medicine go down. The trick is in making the medicine the sugar.
I miss Illustration Friday. Once upon a time, in the ancient pre-Facebook blogging days, it was a site that gave a weekly prompt, which bloggers would illustrate. Seems pretty straightforward. I made some wonderful friends, most of whom I’ve kept in touch with.
A long-time fan of Leo McKern, I only recently discovered his wonderful 70s-90s courtroom drama Rumpole of the Bailey. Now that I’ve watched every episode, I must find something new to binge. Perhaps the latest season of The Mandalorian? Star Trek Picard season three has a few wincing moments here and there, but it’s a vast improvement over season two.
I know I sound like an old fuddy-duddy, but Picard should never say the word “fuck.” Riker or O'Brien, I could see. Especially O'Brien. But Jean Luc Picard? It’s not “gritty realism;” it’s just cheapening and out of character.
Pass me the Geritol.
-Tony
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