Aaand...

[desperance]

It's gone. It is in my editor's hands, or at least her inbox.

What shall I ever do now with my days?

Well, let's see. I need to:

Revise the proposal for GETTING CARTER, or at least cut it, because it is Too Slow for America.

First line: Actually, Carter isn't a house at all. It's a historical document, a chessboard, a state of mind.

Revise "I Shaved Half-Emperor Cyrrhenius" for the TWF anniversary antho.

First line: Hands? These hands are the steadiest in the demi-monde.

Revise Sekrit Projekt, on which I have been far too dilatory.

First line: (sekrit, obviously)

Finish "Skander", the first of the Alexandria stories; I've been writing it for years now, way too long.

First line(s): Skander: city of exiles, assassins, plotters and panders and whores. City of poets, of lovers, of embassies, liars of every hue.

City of corruption, too effete even to revel in its shame. Its public face is its arse, thrust out at the world in a weary self-exposure.

Skander sits on every man’s horizon, my own not otherwise.

Write the proposal for GINGERSMITH et seq.

Aaand something else, I'm sure. Probably some things else.

Oh, and get my head around a lot of curious technical stuff before I go to California. Next week.

Eek.