So here I am in South Australia, visiting my children, and I think I have packed everything so I can continue to do some writing work. This morning I typed in the list of books by Dave Freer – I was shocked to find the list had already got to 25 (including CLOUD-CASTLES) and entered the shorts (but not anthologies I have had stories in) and corrected it and saved.
OK. Done. And then having fought through Thorpe-Bowker to give it a ISBN… DONE. And now to my e-mails to get the updated cover… and then, well, to start looking at Amazon… Oh hell’s teeth. My e-mail password is NOT saved on this computer. Well, I can always ask Cedar for it to be sent again, to my son’s address. Oh… oh. My Amazon password is also not on the laptop. And the recovery goes to that e-mail address.
So: here I am, a long way from home, and no way of getting that book out until I get back there.
Which kind of brings me around to writing topic for tonight. So much of our world rests on the shoulders of other things. Yes, there are redundancies, different ways to skin a cat. Those too rest on other things being achieved. I think we’re seeing quite a lot of that in the various supply-chain issues at the moment. One small thing missing – oh we make another plan. Which in turn requires some other small thing… so we make another plan. This may work… or my hit yet another glitch.
Essentially that’s the anatomy of a good novel. The hero who comes along and moves seamlessly from triumph to triumph may be something we’d like to have happen, but personally I find little to identify with, let alone sympathize with. Besides… it’s dull.
So here am I, working on another book instead. That path is closed for now. Nil carborundum, illigitimi.