Just a reminder (as if my constant piffle about it would let you forget),
Charitable Getting goes on sale tomorrow at 10am Central Daylight Time. When that happens I'll be making a post across my blog platforms linking to the sales page, and that will be the post where one signs up for signed copies.
Signed copies run $35 with all profit going to charity, split between the
Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network and the
Chicago Anti-Hunger Federation. When signing up for a signed copy, the information I'll need -- and this will be in that post, too -- is an email address where I can reliably reach you, whether you are located in the US, and whether the book is a holiday gift for someone. You do not need to be logged in or give your username to sign up; all other info is passed through private email. If you want an idea of what the sales post will look like, you can have a look at the
sales post for
Nameless.
I'm much more placid about this book going to press than I was about
Nameless, and while I'm aware of the flaws in
Charitable Getting I'm also aware that they are exaggerated in my own mind. It was a good book, and is a better book than it was, and I feel proud of it. Which I think is awfully well-adjusted of me, all things considered.
The first time I met my college mentor -- who was at that time three years older than I am now -- I attached to him because I thought that this was a man I could learn a great deal from, this was the kind of person I both wanted to be and didn't have the capacity to be. Looking at this journal, at my novels (my novels!) and at the way I am capable of both appreciating and dismantling things, I can see him in myself now. Later, when we weren't strangers anymore, we talked about this and he said I'd get there; I should have listened, but if I had I'm not sure I would have accomplished it. I understand now that this mythical figure was still just a guy with flaws and quirks and a temper and relationship problems, because I have all those things, but I'm still pretty proud that I am the person I didn't think I could be.
I should give him a call. He'll laugh his ass off -- he's teased me for years about being the quiet one, the one who won't usually be where he wants to be but will always be where he ought to be.
I still haven't decided whether I will write something for NaNo (unlikely) or rewrite something (possible) or not write anything (terrifying) or just ignore the whole thing and keep on as I have. Dead Isle is calling out to be rewritten, and of course there's Valet; and there's also a novella I wrote ten years ago, which gives a great deal of perspective on how far I've come, and which I could make into a much better book than it was. I know that NaNo can be a great driving force, but I also know I'm capable of pushing myself without it and I have been pushing myself a lot, lately, so I'm not sure I need the extra pressure.
Anyhow. Today I rest, tomorrow I sell books, who knows what'll happen on Tuesday.
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