thu/20220728

in

The pieces are in place and the typos have been mostly corrected and my brain is in a half with-it capacity having slept last night at a blood sugar under 200 which was lovely and I have to do that again – my body may have other ideas but I'm pumping it with so much insulin something's got to break (for the good, though possibly for the ill).

Here's what I'm thinking re: PRESS(A) 01's release: if I haven't printed out a full, physical copy by tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to delay the full release. I'm on no one's timetable but my own so I can do that sort of thing, nice/nifty. Absolute, final deadline, though, is the day I turn 41 (07 Aug); it is my birthday present to myself, my final settling of her estate.

There are 15 bags of mulch in the truck. I see lifting and carrying and mulching much mulch and more editing and rewriting in my day's future that may or may not come to fruition.

wed/20220727

in

"The Final Countdown" has, appropriately, been stuck in my head all morning. Pagination, margins, print tests, snap/to, etc etc etc: my capacity for switching roles, especially without space between – as is the general way it goes in the summer – is at a low ebb (not that I'm very good at it any other time during the year). Snippy/snappy, et al.

And yet here I am – even though I told myself that it probably wasn't a good idea to do these morning things while the PRESS (A) endgame is being run. While I generally don't listen to myself, I'll chalk these up to wanting to write something in the midst of being in the throes of publisher/designer role until the last bit of laser toner is spilled and the first copy fully assembled.

The writer wants to play again but my brain is in the margins – and so it is and so it goes. Going feral not unlikely.

update: short-edge binding and other sanity-saving print options

in

(previously…)

After much wasted ink and new bits of scrap paper, impositions are in place and the first print tests of PRESS (A) 01 are done: it is possible to both assemble and maintain a modicum of sanity. All that remains now is to finish the cover design, a few tweaks on the conclusion, and modifications here for its release and my first longform non-fic piece since 2013 will be ready to go. Rinse, wash, repeat every six months (though the next one will be fiction, probably.)