I mentioned somewhere that a house project was underway,
so my online attention has been a bit sporadic. Add in the political hootenanny that’s been (limply) ramping up, and alongside some job searching, my head really hurts. (For those outside of the UK, we had a snap election on the 8th).
Compounded with redrafting two pieces of mine for submissions, my current method of survival has been sowing, growing and planting a seemingly endless line of foliage. So while in the UK the (arguably laughable) prospect of achieving some sort of order will arrive in the form of this (arguably pointless) general election, and in the US it might be found in the shape of (now-good-guy) Mr Comey, I’m crossing my fingers for flowers, bees, and something fractionally more manageable*.
Somewhere in the mix, I’ve been to an extras casting, the show I was a part of last year is now up for two awards this coming Sunday, I’ve nearly hit my yearly rejections target inside five months, and out of my own mouth I suggested procuring a studio space for artsy purposes with a group of people I’ve never met. Like I said, my head hurts.
*Chez Laidig has less of a garden and more of a grassy area on the edge of a wood, so manageability is a tall ask. I compare it to the Death’s home in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld – locked out of time, where magic bends and things don’t work like they should.