Good luck, Jenny. Write if you get work.
Chelsea and I were IMing last night about the "group identity" of the young SFF writers and editors out there. Thing is, we're not supposed to have one.
But--Ping! Epiphany!--I suspect we do.
And I suspect it's more obvious than we think.
More on this very shortly, once the essay gets written.
Meanwhile, I finished my reread of Hammered last night. It's getting one final editing pass to fix the French and the Canadian military details (Thank you Dena and Sperry) and make whatever changes Jenn deems necessary when she gets around to it (assuming she thinks it doesn't suck) and then poof--off into the outer darkness with that one, too. I think it's a good book.
I might be biased.
But I think it's a good book.
The nice thing is, reading it has jiggled all the unresolved plot details back into my brain, and Scardown is now simmering nicely. It's kind of fun writing Jenny happy. Has been kind of fun. Sadly, Jenny's moment of happiness just ended.
On the other hand, the girl is gaining ground on the universe. Tough broad. I like her.
I like being a writer sometimes. It's damned hard work, and it's frustrating, and it's emotionally exhausting. But there is something about holding a pile of papers in your hand and saying "This is my book" that's just amazingly satisfying. Like spitting into the Grand Canyon, only with a point.