I have a galley of Fires (which arrived this morning in a package from Impetus) in my hand. It is a curious feeling. I tend to think of my books as things on a computer. I flip through the galley and the font looks good. The paper feels right. Excellent. I'm like, Shit, I remember writing this. Oh, this part, too. Huh. Wow.
UPDATE: I keep showing the galley to people. This is also a pleasing feeling.
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2 comments:
Hey,
This might not be the best venue in which to post this, but I just read your story about the bloating mom who turns into some sort of sea-mammal:
Excellent stuff.
I particularly liked the way the protagonist guiltly slinks away at the end. It's always cool to see Kafka being updated.
Thank you, I appreciate that. That kind of surreal realism isn't usually my thing, but I am fond of that story, which mostly exists so I could write the last paragraph, which is my favorite part, too.
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