With all the guest blogs I've been doing of late (another will be coming out on Fantasy Book Critic and hopefully Fantasy Hive UK real soon), I've really been neglecting my own blog. And although I swore I wouldn't resort to another low effort post, here we are. I will point out that I did have a new Bugbear BBQ post ready to go, but then I looked at it and realized there was no humor there; it was just a recipe for chili (albeit a damn good recipe if I do say so myself). So I scrapped it, snapped some photos of my office, and am pretending this counts as my weekly blog post.
You should hopefully all be happy to know I've started on book three this week, so there's loads of progress all around.
But now, without further ado, here's my office. We just moved in two months ago, so please forgive that there's still some boxes that need unpacking.
My pride and joy is probably this eight foot whiteboard where I plotted out all the avenues of attack for Sigil. They're all under the outline for book three in Sol's Harvest, which looks like it's only going to be 30 chapters. But I'm betting at least two more get added in the next outlining phase. The top/ blue note cards are the present day storyline while the tealish ones below the past. Pink post its are the emotional arcs for the characters.
I may not own a CD player anymore, but I still can't bear to get rid of my collection. My old roommates once slipped a Vanilla Ice CD into it once to see how long it took me to notice. Under a week.
And these are what hangs over those CDs, respectively. The tchotchkes shelf include a ship that was always downstairs in my grandparents' basement that no one knows the story to, Brock Sampson, two Futureama characters, Goldie from the Sandman series and Jessie Custer from Preacher (underneath a Pope John Paul candle, although I am not Catholic). Some other knick-knacks, including my dice bag that has sat unused for over 10 years next to my very first 20-sided die.
The Hangdogs were a band I very much loved when I lived in Dallas, and was overjoyed after I moved to NYC to find out they were getting together for two nights for a reunion concert. That night was long before smart phones and involved me learning there's a huge difference between 1st Street + A Avenue and A Street + 1st Avenue. But I eventually made it to the concert, showed some city-slickers how to properly put a lime in a Corona, got all the members to sign the poster, then spent the next 1 1/2 hours to travel two miles on the subway to return home by 4:30 am.
God, to be young and to think nights like that were incredible again.
There's my still-packed workbench for my jewelry making, and there's the lazy dog that likes getting underfoot. Eagle eyes will note posters for The Woven Ring and The Imbued Lockblade. Too bad the glare messes them up because they are gorgeous.
I've mentioned before how there's a fine line between being an author and an alcoholic, and this is my very conscious effort to blur the line all the more. I can't tell you how happy I was when we realized there was no room for the wine rack downstairs, which meant I could turn it into a whiskey rack in my room. But now that I have it, I ironically use it more for tea each day, which is sort of sad. Like how only old men can afford sports cars.
And finally there's me at my desk pretending to work. That's the same desk I've had since I was about eight. It's not that I care for it, though. More that I can't ever come up with a good reason to get rid of it. Behind me is the 20 year anniversary poster for Sandman. Looking at it just now, I realize the 30 year poster should be due out this year.
Great. Now I feel old(er).
And as an extra special bonus, this is my original whiteboard where I drew my notes for my map of Ayr. I left it up so long that it never really washed off, and now I can't bear to throw it away. Because I'm really oddly sentimental it seems.