Nothing to See Here

I’m so swamped. Hence the lack of blog. Because not only is there a ton of work-work to do, but my brother-in-law got Rock Band for Christmas, and that needs to be seen to as well. We’re quite the band, SB, SB’s brother, and I.

Just kidding. It’s mostly work. Interesting discovery of the day. Sometimes, my fingers like to type their own thing, like some bizarre inter-body version of telephone, with the result that words sometimes only bear a vague resemblance to the word I meant to type. This not only confuses critique partners and copy editors, but it also confuses the author when she gets back the notes and tries to figure out what the critique partners and editors THOUGHT she was trying to say. Bless them, they usually take the typo at face value, then go into elaborate contortions trying to make the rest of the sentence make sense in light of the typo.

For instance: “she lowered her face into a whisper.” Note: “lowered her face in order to whisper?” “Face” sounds odd here. Should it be “head?”

I think it’s because, to my finger-ears, face sounds like voice.

For further instance: “I liked it better when uniforms were imaginary.” Note: Perhaps something about how they’re being forced to wear uniforms? There’s nothing else about their uniforms in the chapter.

Ah, you know those crazy killer uniforms.

My finger-ears may need a hearing aid. Or a leering raid. Whatever.

I have new boots to traipse about Europe in. I’m remarkably excited about them. They’ll go well with all the new socks Santa brought me for Christmas. (Yes, new socks. Want to make something of it? They’re super swanky. SmartWool.)

Now, if only I could convince SB to pack. Or, you know, get a costume for the masquerade ball. I have mine. Petticoat and all.