The world may try to wear us down. It may even succeed some days.
But that won't keep us from going down fighting.
Even in the attic, we dance on.
* * *
My head is very full of angry, angry thoughts.
I've been following the WGA strike very closely. I'm very angry that the studios pushed it to this, and make no mistake, they wanted this. I'm two steps away from calling for an escalation and exhorting every writer I know to take a pitchfork and a torch to the studios. Because right now, the only way to save them is to burn the motherfuckers to the ground.
See? Head full of angry thoughts.
I dreamed about working in film/TV my whole life. And now you could offer me a job working for the big studios and I wouldn't touch it with a 20 foot stick. I'd have to take a paycut to work for them. How fucked up is that? An executive assistant makes more money than the average writer. A LOT more. Ditto for the average artist.
Nuke 'em from orbit, folks. It's the only way to be sure
* * *
21 days till Florence. Exactly 3 weeks. I am a stress monkey. My hands and elbows are breaking out from excema. I want a cigarette and a martini. I'm excited and terrified. Maybe valium would be a better idea.
* * *
I am behind on wordcount for NaNo as of today. I've gotta crank out another 2,600 to get back on pace for myself. I can do it. I'm just not looking forward to it.
* * *
And in concluding for the fractured thoughts today, have a link to the photo book. Turns out I have about ten of 'em in the closet as well. These are the beautiful softbacks. Again, to help me clear out the house, I'm letting 'em go at $15. Have a button:
Caryatid Softcover $15