mrissa | Oct. 25th, 2005

I am in that stage of novel submission and queries where everything is sparkly. "X represents Y! Y rocks! X should be my agent! Wait, Z represents Q! Q rocks! Z should be my agent!" The world is filled with potential happiness. The birds sing, the grass crackles when you step on it. O early days of novel submission, when this novel has been rejected by only one editor and no agents at all, how I adore thee. There is still time for everything to go right.

This isn't really why I keep writing novels before having one published, but it's a nice side benefit.

I'm going through making sure that all the notecards remaining on Thermionic Night are vestigal. Most of them are. A few have been worthwhile two line revisions. Sampo still has a good deal more work ahead, but it will be nice to sweep the TN stuff away and only deal with that book in terms of marketing it until I have a salient reason not to. I'm approaching the happy stage where we print the copy to go in the closet archives and then start ignoring the book in favor of new sparkly things, in which everything still has time to go right from an even earlier stage. Yay.

I haven't spent a night away from Ista since we got her in July, until last night. The vet called to say everything went well and she's coming out of things just fine, but I'll be glad to see her again. I know it was the right thing to let them observe her and make sure everything is fine, but it bothered me that she was hurting and confused and I wasn't there to make soothing monkey noises. I mean, she has Piggy, but Piggy is, like most stuffed tapirs, rather inactive. I'll be going to get her (well, them, if you count Piggy) in about ten minutes, and the soothing monkey noises will abound. And we will crash on the couch together, and that will be good.