We watched Arthur et les Minimoys last night. In French. I’ve discovered I hate dubbing in live action films. It’s just too weird. The thing that really bothered me, though, was that according to the dialog, the Princess was supposed to be only 10 years old in human terms (1000 years in Minimoy terms), yet she had breasts and booty to rival Salma Hayek. It might have been a mistranslation, but that’s all effed up, my friends.

I didn’t write nearly as much yesterday. 2172 words. Bringing the total to 50,241 since March 23. I think that’s three weeks, eh? I sent the agent a snippet and she’s very excited. I don’t think I’ve seen an email with that many exclamation points before.

I am so looking forward to next week’s vacation. You have no idea.

I started Girls of Tender Age. It’s very unusual, written in present tense. She somehow collars the future and pulls it, too, into the present very casually. “When I am older, I am at a party and someone says…” Her style is amazing. What I don’t like is so far in both memoirs is the use of photos to represent the passage of time. I would prefer Gorey-esque drawings personally. But that’s my life, not theirs. Also, I’m liking the Zippy memoir more as I think about it.

Yesterday, I sent an email to TOR withdrawing my manuscript that they’ve had for two effing years. Today is the 2 year anniversary on the nose, in fact. No response. Not even, “Ugh! Sorry about that!” I guess we’re all just here for their abuse and amusement, eh? (Obviously I used it to help land an agent, but I’ve not done much else with it. Which bothers me a great deal.)

And now to work.