Friday, October 01, 2004

Friday, October 1, 2004
Waning Moon
Neptune Retrograde
Uranus Retrograde
Sunny and cool

Mt. St. Helen’s is getting ready to blow, and I know how she feels.

I opened an e-mail from a known address yesterday, an address from which I get a regular writing newsletter. The subject line read “Self test”, which I thought was a bit odd, but it’s from a sender I trust . . .and . . .


I had the Cutthroat Charlotte floppy in. All wiped out. Entire thing. Plus, on the hard drive, various writing files and other program files.

In spite of new anti-virus software.

That repetitive noise you hear is me banging my head on the wall.

Printer still works, though. Gotta love Canon.

This morning, I received an e-mail from my editor – she hadn’t received the last issues of CC I’d sent – and I should have known because she’s great about confirmations – and didn’t have the issue that was scheduled to publish today. It wasn’t until I’d inserted the CC disk that I realized it was wiped.

Fortunately, I’d printed out the last five issues I’d sent – or thought I’d sent or whatever – so I rekeyed them and sent them. But the issues I was still fiddling with – gone.

I was supposed to run errands and pay bills this morning. Instead, I rekeyed the most important issues and sent them, and have been reloading my hard drive. While many of the writing files have been wiped on the hard drive, the floppies of WC et al, seem fine. And the articles I’ve been working on are fine.

I often have a floppy in my A drive while I’m working. I’ll hop online to fact-check, then go back to the document and do more work. Usually, I’m very good about disengaging the drive before going online. This time I was lazy and/or careless. And I paid.

My own damn fault, and I’m just sorry I had to give my editor near heart-failure.

I also admit, as I rekeyed, that I did some rewriting, and these issues are stronger than they were before. And the pirate crew is shaping up to be a glorious group of misfits. No wonder they sail the high seas – they’re far too eccentric to exist in Society! And I love ‘em for it!!!

I went in to day work early yesterday. The train was actually on time, miracle of miracles. I did my work and headed to the union meeting. As much as for business, the union meeting is a great place to catch up with fellow dressers. You find out who’s working where, who’s gotten married, who bought a house, etc., etc. It’s a chance to catch up with people. When you’re on the same show, you see too much of everybody. But once you’re all spread across different shows, you lost touch.

I had a quick snack at my favorite sushi restaurant on Ninth Avenue. It should have been relaxing, except for the two guys at the next table. They were a pair of young con men – I’d be surprised if they were even of drinking age. They sat there and talked in low voices about the people they were playing (both men and women) and how much money/how many gifts/etc. they were getting off them. I seemed absorbed in my work (when I was really eavesdropping) and, although they lowered their voices when I took the table across the room from them, they didn’t think I could hear.

I’ll have to write a story one day where they get what’s coming to them. The lack of respect for anyone with whom they came into contact nearly made me spit up my seaweed. Every person they encounter is simply a meal ticket or a way to gain something.

Their energy was so bad and they left such a cloud in the place that the manager scrubbed down the table and chairs with some sort of cleanser. Probably as much spiritual as physical.

The Coffee Pot was packed, so I ended up stuck in a corner of Starbuck’s, trying to get some work done and eavesdropping on a couple of young filmmakers trying to learn how to raise money for their projects. The Player they spoke with kept telling them how much he liked their work and how he couldn’t go to his investors because their budget was too small – while encouraging them to cut more out of their budget and film it on credit. And he kept interrupting the discussion to take calls about Parker Posey’s dressing room.

I remember starting out in film and being impressed by guys like that. Truth is, if he was genuinely interested in the project, and not just listening to himself give advice, he’d find investors for it.

Received many condolences for Felicia’s death. I am lucky to work within a group of loving and supportive people.

Caught the train home in time to catch the end of the Kerry-Bush debate. I felt Kerry was clear, concise and actually has a plan. Bush simply repeated the same five phrases over and over and over again. And, even while disagreeing, both sides respected the rules of the debate as set up. I appreciated that. I’d have lost respect for someone who rambled on forever or threw a tantrum. If you’re gonna yell, I’m not going to listen.

Ultimately, I don’t want words. I want to see positive action that improves the lives of the citizens of this country. The last four years have been the opposite, certainly for me and for the majority of people around me. I want specific implementations of improvements.

Good thing I wrote those follow-up e-mails from going through my submission log. I received an e-mail from a book packager asking me to resend samples, and now she wants me to write an audition piece for them. I’d love to!

I’ve been working on my business plan. I realized that, in order for it to truly take effect, because of the lag time in most writing, I’ll have to start putting the plan into effect in December in order to make January’s numbers.

I’m glad I’m learning about business and computers and all this other stuff, but a part of me seriously resents having to do anything except write. Welcome to the Real World, right?

I also, yesterday, had to deal with an emotion that I rarely deal with on the writing front: Jealousy. A writer I don’t like as a person or a writer has achieved a new success. And, frankly, I’m jealous. Which is ridiculous. That person’s writing has nothing to do with me. We don’t write for the same markets. We’re not in competition. Heck, we don't even speak anymore. And it’s certainly a difficult enough field that any time any one has success it helps all of us. As soon as I recognized what the unpleasant sensation in my gut, heart and throat was, I worked my way through it, and now I can wish the person a long and happy life . . .far away from me. It’s been years since I experience Writerly Jealousy. I don’t like it. But at least I didn’t pretend it didn’t exist. Repressing it would have made it worse.

Enough reflection. Time to get down to the nitty gritty. There are articles to be polished, serials to be written, newsletter copy to be revised, course proposals to be solidified, and queries to be created.



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