Wow, you guys, not that this is a surprise exactly, but
Hannibal Rising? Not the feel-good book of the year.
Not that this is stopping me from devouring it. It's not even very good, but there's something compelling about Thomas Harris's writing. Even though this book is like the epitome of It Got Worse.
Speaking of, I have officially entered the phase where I hate Trace passionately and it hates me back. I've been trying to restructure the first chapter, trying to set it up so that all the flashback stuff from Colin-leaving-Railburg happens and then all the Joseph-recruits-Colin stuff happens later, but it's not really working. I'm about to scrap what I've done and just take out the sex, because I think the sex is really what was confusing people, and
wow is this going to make no sense if you haven't read Trace. :D
Ugh, I don't even know. This happens with every book, sooner or later, so I'm not overly worried, just annoyed and fractious tonight. A lot of it is undoubtedly trying to cram myself back into my routine, because between the retreat and the interview it's been two weeks since life was normal. Not that the retreat wasn't great, and the interview went fantastically well. And in terms of literary life I'm doing fun new things -- editing for
Hold Something, networking for
Candlemark & Gleam. Life on the whole is going well, there is no reason I should be fighting my own work tooth and nail. Possibly I'm just overstimulated tonight.
NAP TIME. Chicago Code may have to wait until tomorrow.
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