Seeing Spots: Procrastination Station
Mehitobel Wilson: writer, reader, chronic curmudgeon.

Tomboy bombshell cowgirl; lover of funk, attracted to roadsides.

Besotted with spots.

Friend to sleaze.

Admirer of filthy films, fleshy steaks, Hong Kong rap, new felt and pocket-knocking 8-balls; prefers 10 gallons of hat and 4 fingers of Jack.

Procrastination here breeds urgency there. Urgency begets sharper fiction. The dream: hone it to a splinter, and sink it deep.

So I'm here.

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Wednesday, June 11, 2003
The frenzy

I have too many deadlines to meet. One got extended when I told the editor I just couldn't make it. I blew one completely. I MADE the Extra Super Uber Screamin Extremely Important one, though. That one was also the only unsolicited thing I've sent out in years. There are some needles and some pins.

Speaking of needles, the other night I deflated one of my goldfish. See, when there are real swimbladder difficulties, one of the last resorts is to sedate the fish and stab him with a hypo, sinking the needle into his swimbladder & withdrawing air until he sinks. Fancy goldfish have compacted egg-shaped bodies that are prone to flipping over. Poor guy was held submerged by a net for a week. It took me that long to 1) find a hypo and 2) find the sedative. Misadventures were abundant. I even had to venture into a hippie enclave in search of clove oil. I deflated him, he sunk, and twelve hours later, he was afloat again. Poor sucker. I'm not sure what the next move is.

The site's been redesigned and I'm pretty happy with it.

Advanced reader's copies of DANGEROUS RED arrived last week, and look sharp. I'm officially excited.

It's hot here; I've been playing too much BALDUR'S GATE and craving an XBox; I've been in a girly mood and spending money on nutty things like a goldfish-encrusted cheongsam, giant boots, makeup, and Pilates equipment.

My new problem is that I'm supposed to be writing short stories galore, but keep getting ideas for novels instead. This terrifies me. We'll see...