I got my welcome letter for the Pottermore beta, finally. I'm in Slytherin, my animal's a black cat, and my wand is a 12.5 inch unbending sycamore with a dragon heartstring, which essentially translates to "Mary is a drama queen, stubborn, and likes seeking out new experiences" in wand-language. It's a fair assessment.
A few weeks ago I switched to using a Lush solid shampoo and look how great my hair is now
! That's from ddoing nothing but brushing the knots out while it was still wet and then letting it air-dry, and the photo doesn't even convey the extent of neato flippity-ness that exists in-person. TRULY THIS IS MIRACLE PRODUCT.
Man, look at those sexy dark circles under my eyes. Hawt. Speaking of (that was the best-worst segue I've done in a while), Death Note
! It's neat! I love it! I know I am the very last person on earth to get on the Death Note train, but it is truly glorious. It's genuinely tragic one moment and then oh god are L and Light really engaging in a psychological tango by an intense and overthought game of tennis the next. I cannot properly cope with how clever-stupid the pair of them are. I laugh out loud while reading the manga in public. I can't help it. Plus Near, Mello, and Matt give me all of the Robin feelings, and Misa is somewhere between pre-Crisis Jay and Harley Quinn, honestly.
You can take the girl out of DC-reading, but you can't take the DC-reading out of the girl.
I may have a publisher for the novel I wrote between October and April, aka New Novel, aka The Devil's Mixtape
. It's a wee indie one in the US which my friend Narrelle suggested. I have a lot of feelings about this! There have been some crying moments, and not the happy-crying sort (which I mostly only get from Rumer Godden books and sometimes fanfictions) -- going with a small publisher (which I haven't yet, officially, but which is almost certainly how things are going to work out) feels like I've failed to be a success at this whole thing, yet again. Which is stupid! And a part of me knows it's stupid!
But still there are tears and feeling bummed, because another part of me remains convinced that all the publishing industry people I know, be they writers or editors or agents or whatever, think that I'm rubbish and, if they feel any emotion about me beyond 'she's rubbish', feel pity at me for my rubbishness. And even though hard-copy book stores are rapidly approaching status as an endangered species in Australia at this point, I still hold fragile girlish hopes of someday seeing my books for sale in book stores. Oh well, Hares & Hyenas might take a couple, I guess we'll see.
Next Novel (which genuinely doesn't have a title yet, not a good one anyway -- I suspect I can't just call it "A Biopunk Story About Feelings") is dragging a bit simply because I've been busy doing not much of anything useful.