Investing in Grammarly is self-delivering a cold, unforgiving bitchslap to the chops. I suspected but never knew just how horrible my grammar was until some near-sentient hunk of software could shed blinding light upon the multiple atrocities.
Exit The Skin Palace is now more or less good to go. Still needs a cover, but Jenny is all over it. And the e-manuscript still gets to go through the Smashwords nuking session, but after that -- and one more no-longer-capable-of-objectivity-read through -- it will be released.
Grimgrack has a first draft done. Sort of. Mostly. The problem being, now that I'm working more on getting Exit out the door, creative thoughts pivot towards Exit's sequel - Surfer On The Drift. Also, Exit seems like everything is there. Grimgrack is still a minor shambles. A review of the Aykroyd/Hanks Dragnet comes to mind, where the critic sang the flicks praises, in large part because for the first time post-SNL, Aykroyd gave a full, vital performance.
Given verifiable facts - the sad number of Lucid and The Lipless Gods downloads, the paltry number of reviews (paltry = 1), my utter inability to self-promote, etc. - no one really gives a sweet toot what I finish writing after Exit. Except me. I'm still stunned I whacked Grimgrack out so quickly. Hopefully, Surfer can bubble on up to the surface in the same guttering speed.
In other words related news, all I've been reading are graphic novels and Bukowski. The former mind-stuff for teenagers, the latter the kind of pitying, shambling self-epic attractive to 20-something straight white boys cored with a nigh undrainable reservoir of self-pity and world-hatred. Nonetheless, I downed three collections inside the last 24-hours with no plans to ease up on the pedal anytime soon.