Our union did manage to get us paid. Yay for unions! It's like we actually live in the twenty-first century or something. This doesn't change the fact that I don't like my job. I don't like my job and I'm not in denial any more, but I have to keep working because I simply can't afford not to - yet. I intend to save like a mofo for the next two years (my next job's contract lasts two years) and, 60% tax notwithstanding, I can probably afford to take a few months off then and sort out my LIFE. So that's the status quo.
Oh look! A Dance of Dragons is coming out in July. NO REALLY. I had just started medical school when A Feast for Crows was published. How time flies. I can't remember any details, aside from one death - WHY, GEORGE, WHY - and that it was pretty much a shitstorm of magnificent proportions. Martin really made fantasy for me, though, so I will read this in quivering anticipation (of disappointment). Thoughts, peoples?
I often said to myself, "Self, if you ever get published, leave up your fanfic and old journal entries." Because people do like a laugh, and there is little that's more hilarious than my early attempts at 'writing' - unless it's my early attempts at 'journalling'. However, this post of Stacia Kane's did set me considering to reconsider. Obviously the point is moot at the present time, but say I did achieve my one dream in life - do I really want Chuck Palaniuk knowing that I think he's only written one good book? Do I want to fight with Cassandra Clare's legions of fans? Do I want to throw down with every person who loved Middlemarch or Love in the Time of Cholera? DO I WANT TO EVER HAVE TO FACE A BANDOM PERSON WHO KNOWS I WROTE ABOUT THEIR NAKED FUN TIMES? I'm not sure. I think if I ever reached the dizzying heights of, say, Tolkien, many people would want to read everything I've ever written (see: the histories of Middle Earth). On the other hand, the writers of today have an opportunity for so much output - and so much trackable output, at that - it raises the question of whether even the most thorough of fans could ever trawl through it all. It's not like reading one of my old blog entries carries the same twist of excitement as discovering a previously-unread manuscript by a long-dead typewriter-era author. I'd probably end up deleting completely because I am a lazy, lazy creature and the thought of having to censor entries individually just makes me want toast instead.