It seems like I didn't accomplish much today, but really what that means is I only wrote a couple of sentences. On the other paw, though, I did pay bills and answer/initiate a lot of business correspondence, apply for a copywriting gig, and I'm about to curl up with Mythbusters and sign an awful lot of signature pages for Seven for a Secret.
February and March are looking like a logistical nightmare. I need to move, you see (I'm looking for a larger apartment that I can split with a roomate, so I can claim the monster dog that my mother the dog breeder is already referring to as Your Dog and also pay less in rent and utilities--but because of the vagaries of the writerly paycheck (every six months if you need it or not) it's looking like I can't actually expect to get paid for several things until probably March or April.
My lease on the tiny apartment is up March 14, and while I could go month by month here for a month, I don't really want to. It's extra paperwork, and all that, and also they charge you a wonking great convenience fee.
So it would behoove me to raise about four thousand dollars CASH MONEY in February.
To that end, we will be having a semiannual booksale sometime around January 31 (Oh, yes). In addition, I'm totally looking for freelance nonfiction gigs (I have no new novels to write this year, though I have got a couple to rewrite and deliver) and I really need some work: there's only so much Torchwood I can take.
So if you know anybody who's looking for a freelancer, send 'em my way.
I'm also thinking of pimping my mad fiction writing and editing skills as a writing tutor, after the model of the mighty dancinghorse. Is that the sort of thing anybody would be interested in partaking of?
The benefit to all of you, of course, is that the sooner I get moved, the sooner you all get Giant Ridiculous Dog stories to go with the Presumptuous Cat stories. And trust me, this dog is ridiculous enough for anybody.
Ace. His name is Ace.