Interlude

[shoebox_dw]

So I haven’t been spending all my time lately extracting double-entendres from perfectly harmless comic media. I’ve also been very busy trying to avoid calling stores to make sure their contest signs are up.

 

…Long story. Let’s just say the boss is on vacation and left some makework projects for when things got slow, and this is the last one. I’m not one of the people for whom the prospect of spending lots of time on the phone is an ideal morale-booster at any time, and especially not while trying to figure out if I still care about this job generally.

The past few weeks my imagination – while not otherwise occupied with ensuring my resume gives the impression that, when an employer says ‘Call those stores,’ I immediately hop to - has been soaring pleasantly afield from retail, to publishing or library science or similar academia…especially since an HR-type friend told me I could probably substitute experience for actual halls of ivy in most cases. Maybe I could just print out this blog and go from there…

 

Which reminds me, thank you much everyone who offered those nice comments to my original post on the subject. I hadn’t even thought about a history-related job before that, and you see where it’s led? (No, not there! Geez.)

 

As a little side flit, wouldn’t it be cool if there were still crotchety old Colonels - or dear dotty Doctors - in need of genteel ladies to collate their notes for the Memoirs of a Life Spent Shooting Stuff in Poona, or whatever? You know, the kind I’m always running into in period novels, that her friends invent to help a girl out when she’s down on her luck. Anne Perry spends a lot of time on this as a device to get her heroine Charlotte Pitt onto the scene of the crime, and the various digressions on cozy library fires and fascinating stories of bygone times, not to say the chance to feel infinitely superior to the petty and problem-wracked wealthy, has really got me sighing over chances lost.

 

Then I start thinking about writing a book of my own…which is actually what this entry started out to be about, away up around the second paragraph, there. One of the great uses of a journal, I’m discovering, is as a sort of GPS for when your mind goes wandering.

 

Anyway, yeah, most mental roads these days lead to my follow-up writing project. Having scaled the publishing equivalent of a minor Alp, my sights now turn to…uh, maybe a major Alp, I’m not sure.

Basically, I’d like to try my hand at fiction again. Or some more, depending on your POV. Mine is that the current project is still hopelessly snarled in plotting difficulties; however, as every concept I currently have on the go is in the same state, that may not preclude a rescue. I’m still more or less gathering up the ropes and a lantern.

 

I could of course venture forth on another non-fiction subject; but hard experience over the course of both forum and blog management the last year or so has taught me that all the good ideas - at least in the pop-culture arena, the only one in which I have a viable chance of competing with distinction - are, in fact, taken. Of course, one of them I took myself…I do entertain vague daydreams re: somehow, someday expanding the biography of That Comedy Team, but just how likely that is to materialize here in RL may be gauged by how enthusiastically I, ah...[re-checks previous entry]...yep, just put paid to the whole idea for a cheap laugh, pretty much.

No, my only hope for literary fulfillment is to produce some actual literature. Or something. Which is where we run into a whole ‘nother set of issues…which will be covered in the following entry. Possibly entries. You may want to take advantage of the pause to get the teeny-tiny little violins all tuned up, is what I’m saying here.