Counting Chickens

This week I got the first image of my book cover from my editor. I’m not sure whether it’s okay to post it here, but what the hell. Very communist-looking, no? I like the quirkiness of it, but I also wish for something more subtle, something that would reflect not just the humor but sadness of the stories too. I’ve been browsing gettyone.com (thank you, Jane!), searching for pictures of chickens and supermarkets (I seem to be especially attached to the images of parking lots and lonely shopping carts), and sending some of them toward my agent & editor. But so far all my suggestions have been shot down. I’m not sure it’s a battle worth fighting.

Otherwise, no news. I’m in the midst of a gut-wrenching waiting game. Waiting to hear about the Connecticut job. Checking my e-mail incessantly. Feeling like I’m going insane. Movie Dictator has had to talk me off the ledge repeatedly (at least once a day), and I think he’s getting fed up with me. Not knowing is the worst part. With every hour that goes by without a phone call, I become more and more convinced that I didn’t get the job.

In an attempt to make myself feel better, I’ve done the following things. Stayed in bed for a day, reading and playing TombRaider III. Developed a Plan B (i.e., if I don’t get any job at all), which involves us selling our belongings, packing up the Subaru, and driving to Seattle, where it’s cheaper and where my sister lives. Went back to working on my novel. If I’m destined to spend next year answering phones, serving burgers, or teaching comp, the least I can do now is use the free time that’s left and write, write, write. Write like hell.