Baby Can You Dig Your Man? (He’s a Righteous Man, He’s a Righteous Man!)

That’s from the Stephen King miniseries The Stand, adapted from his novel about the survivors of the apocalypse. I suppose the recent non-rapture has me thinking about the end. Humanity ground to dust, and all the elephants say "Hey-O! Now we can stop evolving our tusks away because poachers will no longer totally kill us for them. Good thing, too, because digging for water is way harder with these big, dull feet."

I hear that The Stand is going to be adapted to the screen again. But I’m pretty fond of Gary Sinise as Stu Redman, so, producers, do so at your peril.

Time is starting to pass funny. Anna Dressed in Blood comes out in about 12 weeks. That’s going to be here…yesterday. There are only a few more months before it’s out, speculation over, we know what’s what. I alternate between trying to slow these days down and whip them to a lather. (Why does everything I whip leave me? Ah, Homer Simpson.) Almost time, too, to revise Secret Project S, and send the query pack for the trilogy off to the agent. There are still a few questions about the ending. But from her first-read reaction, I think she’ll be okay with whatever direction I decide to go. I suppose I should stop calling it Secret Project S pretty soon, but I’m a superstitious piece of crap, and in the writing community, I don’t think that puts me in the minority. (Not the piece of crap part. The superstitious part.)

People ask for blog posts now, and to participate in chats, but it’s always a struggle to come up with ideas, because I hesitate to give any kind of general publishing/writing advice. Who am I? What do I know? Just the answers to a very particular set of circumstances, and sometimes not even that much. But I think, when I look back, I’m going to have the urge to tell people to enjoy whatever stage they’re at. Wring the most enjoyment out of it as you can. Pretty basic. But sometimes we all forget to do it.

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