I had a long, blissful sleep last night; I got in about 15 hours between twilight dozing and deep night dreaming. My brain feels springy, like a really good ball of fresh mozzarella.
Just a reminder that there won’t be any more book shipping from me or my studio- not after we ship the CGB pre-orders. That will save a lot of mental time- I haven’t been able to do my own shipping this year and of course that means any problems take more time to resolve. In future, it’s Amazon, Helby, foreign distributors and book and bead shops doing the book selling and shipping. I’ve taken my next project, Love Letters, off of pre-order, and am going to try to keep it small until it isn’t. (It won’t affect any of you who’ve already ordered. You are a small but mighty contingent, and I am happy to be in service to you.)
I was struck by a quote from Michelangelo; obviously the problem of patronage affects all levels over all of time.
“I cannot think under pressure from patrons, much less paint.”
Laughing. Point being- if you want an author copy (with the postcards, autograph, etc.) of the finished set of CGB books, you need to order it before we start shipping next month. Here is a link. Ditto for the bead assortments- it’s a one-time only deal, and they need to be ordered now to be sure we have enough beads on hand for the shipping madness.
We have just a few posters left, too– we are sending over half of the run out as gifts, and promos for bead shops, so there won’t be another chance for one once shipping begins. If you are a contributor, and you want to order a poster, we will send you an extra in your tube- just leave a note on the order form to be sure we don’t miss you.
I’ve had a strangely sad few days. It wasn’t postpartum on the book, as I’m still swamped in details and digital copies and press edits and shipping databases. It was more real, I think. I am worrying a bit about the future; some long-term things I struggle against and hoped were ending soon may, as it turns out, never end in my lifetime, and isn’t that always the way of it. Some things just work that way – big things, like religious genocide and the problems of human society, smaller, more personal things, like having to spend time with people or in places that are bad for our head.
Our peace of mind as humans is dependent not on things being perfect, but on finding ways to cope with what is on deck.
I’ve done what I usually do when I pass through a time ripple of what seems to be genuine emotion that I don’t understand; I’ve let it wash through me like a wave of gentian violet, staining briefly the sticky places, the sore spots, so I could see the problem areas, and then hopefully take that awareness back out with me, to think about what I learned in intellectual space. It’s a good strategy for someone like me, because sadness never lasts long. I’m lucky like that, I know.
And now I’m thinking about the things I’ve seen, how they relate to my overall well-being. Some things are just momentary difficulties, not important, some things are thematic, important. I feel lucky to have the space to think, the luxury of introspection. I can make my own decisions.
It’s great to feel marginally more on top of things, if not actually caught up, and now I’m off to walk down to the Post Office, get my mail, say hello to Boston. This is my first day alone in this city as a resident, as Bill scooped Evan back off to St. Louis for a week. Of course I miss him. But when he comes back, CATS!
I hope Jasper and Wyatt like Boston as much as I do. It’s a piratey sort of a place.