Saturday, June 28, 2014
This week, while sitting in front of mirror (a place I avoid like the plague) at my hairdresser's I was forced to stare at my reflection. It's not the most frightening reflection ever or anything like that, it's just that my lips are the skinniest lips known to humankind. They're thinner than my deli-meat. Poor sad things remind me of, well, I'm not sure what they remind me of because I try never to think of them. They're such little bits of nothing, a tube of lipgloss last for years instead of months.
Now, you may be wondering why all this angst over my lips. Simple, desperate for a blog topic I wandered across a video of plastic surgery gone wrong. What, my morbid interest shocks you? Are you telling me that you don't glance at the photo of a botched plastic surgery? If you don't, then you should. It is absolutely fascinating the ridiculous, and often hideous lengths people go in the often futile hope of looking better.
A year or so ago, I watched a BBC journalist explore the mystery of why people have plastic surgery. After she went through scores of procedures, she not only looked worse than when she started, she realized that people become addicted to plastic surgery because they keep pursuing an impossible ideal. After a time, they can no longer really see what they look like so they keep cutting away.
For those of you with my same morbid curiosity about people destroying their looks, enjoy: Plastic Surgery Gone Horribly Wrong - Worst Plastic Surgery Ever - Versi...
Finger's crossed, I can think of a better topic next blog.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
The good news, for me anyway, I certainly can't speak for you or anyone else, is that I have finished all my revisions for my books under contract.
|It took me a long time to dig that tunnel, but now I'm out of here.|
Now, I'm free to revise a fun time travel middle grade I've been working on for about a year on and off. Anyway, I have no great insights to offer today, mainly because my brain is fogged in from all the revision work I had to do. It's interesting how much effort it took to revise the two manuscripts I had thought were finished. You writers know exactly what I'm talking about. You send something to a publisher, they agree to publish it and then, bango eight months later you get your manuscript sent back so heavily laden with editing comments, it reminds you of a bloated elephant seal barking (or whatever that noise they make is called) and bleating about lack of character insights.
|Oh rats, I thought I was done with all that.|
Of course, because I've spent the last six weeks sitting on my ever expanding derriere, I now not only moan like an elephant seal, I kind of resemble one at least from behind. If you happen upon an enormous, flabby, gray creature barking and dragging through the streets, beware and be gentle. If it's not me, I guarantee its another writer in the middle of revisions. So be kind and give them some sardines or something.
Monday, June 2, 2014
Yesterday, I sent the final pages of my revised, and revised, and revised, YA novel The End of Normal to my editor. Pressing the send button felt nearly as wondrous as having babies—I’ve done both, so I’m qualified to make that comparison. The major difference between books and babies, I’ve discovered, is that babies only take 9 months to germinate while books (or at least mine) took a lot longer. I think the gestation period for The End of Normal was more in line with that of an elephant, which is 645 days. All I can say to those poor long-suffering, pregnant elephants is “Bless your poor pregnant heart.”
Wow does that look uncomfortable.
Another way books are like babies, is that like having babies, original due dates are subject to change. Due to a variety of things beyond anyone’s control, The End of Normal will not be available until late July or August. Please check out my other website (http://susanarscott.com/) for updates.
I know this is a lame blog, but I have another sexy short to revise and my editor is patiently standing by waiting so this is all the time I have. In fact, I sort of feel like a truant student. Anyway to keep you from shunning me forever as a loser-blogger, how about a little music. Or, even better, the wonderful Maya Angelou.