Jun. 27th, 2012

My life has become one long sequence of meetings, anxiety, and enchiladas.

Seriously, I made this pan of enchiladas like two weeks ago and I keep eating them and there keeps being more enchiladas.

The budget meetings are done now, at least. The anxiety isn't something I'm particularly worried about; there are things I have to genuinely be anxious over, just not as anxious as I am being. And I know the anxiety is all out of proportion so at least there's that.

I did a rough typeset on Dead Isle today -- tabbed the paragraphs, resized the pages, and set the margins -- and it works out to about 500 pages at the standard 9x6 book size. It's a monster. It worries me a trifle because a book that long is not going to be cheap to print, not like Nameless and Trace, slim little stories that they were. I feel like, I don't know, Tolkein or something. "Here's five hundred pages of worldbuilding and politics. Enjoy that."

I also got a sneak peek at the cover for The City War, the novella that Riptide is publishing, and it looks awesome. They have a WWII Submissions Call that I'm eyeballing thoughtfully, but Tunnel is the next goal I have.

Which means it's time to submerge myself in Prohibition-era Chicago and go back to exploring the Pedway.

OH NO. HOW I SHALL SUFFER.

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