Shades of ‘The Tell-tale Heart’ – I sit in my den, banging away at the laptop, listening to the clock tick and getting antsier by the moment.
Maybe it’s the coffee?
I want to publish ‘The Emissary’ right this very moment. I was up until two A.M. working on the prologue and the blurb. I’ve handed it off for a final read-through to some trusted readers – and the copy editor – for one-last-look-before-I-pull-the-trigger.
I tried to clean stalls yesterday – didn’t get very far. However, it was progress. Top it all off – I’ve got a freaking cold – on Easter Sunday, AND I’m out of chocoate!
Not that I’m whining (whinging for my UK friends) mind you.
There always seems to be those last-minute tweaks: A bit of this, a dash of that, a missed word, a comma misplaced. And for dyslexics like myself, the possibility that I didn’t catch a correction. (Maybe it’s old age and blindness, not dyslexia?)
I’m excited to have this little action-adventure story out into the world. It’s a fun read, very ‘Girl-Power’ for horsewomen and the guys will like it too. (No mushy stuff…in Part 1). I think the understory, the difference between our ‘techno-dependent’ culture and a the ‘Earth-first’ application of that technology, will come out without sounding preachy. The women of Dunvegan have embraced the need to turn back the clock – while the men of Fort Chatten cling to technology that will quickly wear out.
One might be able to recycle bullet casings, but the technology that created the refined gunpowder is gone, along with 80% of the population. One might be able to distill alcohol to fuel a truck, but the parts will wear out. There is always a more successful scavenger up the food chain – so things like gas, tires, bullets and food become instantly scarse – and get more expensive with every day that passes. Meanwhile, currency has lost it’s value, credit cards are useless and without fuel and fertilizer – where does food come from?
Not long ago – I expressed the opinion that Dystopian has a hold on us because there is an inner ‘wild beast’ that wants to shed the trappings of civilization and roam free once again. We each have a wild side – one that wants to hunt, gather and howl at the moon. That’s why we grow restless in spring – it’s time to pack up and migrate to fresh grass and new places.
Well, this spring is late – someone needs to shoot the groundhog.
Meanwhile, the clock ticks and I’m chomping at the bit.