Received from an e-mail by a member of an online writing group, who received it from an e-mail from a friend…
Tihs is wlid!!!
Aoccdrnig to a rscheearcer at an Elingsh uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteres are in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae we do not raed ervey lteter by itslef but the wrod as a wlohe.
Ghost Maps Premiere!
Erin and I will be in Toronto tomorrow at the Art Bar, to help celebrate the debut of Erin’s Ghost Maps. Erin will be reading from her new book and selling and signing copies. So, if you’re in town, and near Mervish Village tomorrow evening, why not check us out?
It’s turning into quite a busy week, not only for Erin’s book, but also for Alternatives Journal, as the crew are working hard to get the fall issue (on Food) to the printers. This means getting press releases ready and sent out, getting flyers ready, thinking about who to contact — and helping out with the editorial content when I can. Thank goodness they didn’t ask me to proofread.
It’s been an exciting time, even if it has made me appreciate what work I’ve done on The Young City all the more, if only because the time to really work on editing this story has gotten so rare.
The Trenchcoat Farewell Project is also due for a final push. All I need to do is: lay out the remaining Ninth Aspect 2 stories The Black Files, The Steel Nursery and The Land of the Free plus figure out how to handle and lay out Death by D’Syne and The Golden Owl. I’m still waiting on artwork for Trenchcoat 2’s Synidicate, but Martin has started back into these items.
I’m about 750 pages into this project, and I have less than a hundred to go. It’s a little frustrating to be so stuck, but I do have a deadline to shoot for, at last: the fortieth anniversary of Doctor Who. สัตว์ใต้ท้องทะเลMatt Grady is right: if this thing passes the November 23rd deadline, it will cease to be a labour of love and will become just a labour.
Fortunately, not much left to go.