Just so glorious – 23 degrees today! I’m convinced the heavens were agreeing with us about the end of the orange blowhole and shining their delighted approval.
Except that he’s still there. Jason said today a pundit he follows has been tweeting for months about the possibility of a “fascist coup,” Bill Maher has been talking about it too, and that’s what has begun. I actually thought the Repulsives, seeing the multitudes against their guy and the dancing in the streets at his defeat, would decide it’s in their best interests to cut him loose. But I forgot – 71 million people voted for him, most of those people are fanatics with guns, and his party is without either backbone or human decency. They’ve all drunk the Kool-Aid of Fox News and QAnon. Let’s not forget that hundreds of people drank poisoned Kool-Aid and committed suicide at the behest of a lunatic.
I’ve been overestimating humanity again.
Also, Jason found out today that the reason the audiobook of the memoir, taped in September, has not yet been uploaded by Audible is because there were arcane things we neglected to do – the “The End” that they demanded I say needs to be in a SEPARATE FILE, and it was not. Stuff like that. After waiting 8 weeks and hearing nothing, we now have to wait for a list of our deficiencies, fix them, and send to them again, where we’ll be put at the end of the line. Sick-making.
Also re-thinking the new book I’ve started about my spectacular, dreadful parents – do I really want to go through this again, spending years writing a book to find out no one wants to publish it? I should send queries to publishers now. If no one wants it, I’ll know I should bang it out fast for my family and move on. Brutal reality. The business side of this lit business is not fun. But no, I won’t complain, I’m so lucky to do what I love in the comfort of my own home. I just wish more people wanted to read it.
Last night, Cinderella sat in the living room in sweatpants watching the Giller awards for, what, the 20th year? Only fiction writers need apply, PHOOEY. I’d met Shani Motoo briefly at U of T since she taught there too, but didn’t know any of the others. It seems like a worthy writer won; I hope to read her book one day. Wonderful that an immigrant who at the age of nine didn’t know how to pronounce English can become the winner of Canada’s biggest literary prize!
Tomorrow, not so hot, not so bright – rain forecast and 11 degrees. I have a cold. No idea how that happened, in this time of frantic handwashing, but I have a cold. So I’ll be staying in. My, that’ll be a change.