I find myself enamoured with the idea of translators. Probably because my own language ability is so mediocre. My horrible novel I’ve been plowing 1000 words/day into features a translator, though I’m finding myself staying away from anything that makes him interesting. Too scared to write the cool stuff I guess. And too scared to fall completely down the research rabbit hole to make stuff cool as that means my words aren’t getting churned. Whatever.
When I got back from my weekend away I heard from the editor I’ve been editing this one story with. He’s going to bring it to the Chief editor guy now with a recommendation to publish it. Hopefully the top guy likes it, and I’ll be in a magazine. Or more accurately, the part of me that’s embedded in those 700 words about a hitch hiker meeting David Lynch will be in a magazine.
I really wish my computer would detect our WiFi network more reliably than once every couple of days, though I guess it keeps me from getting lost looking out the Google window all day. Into those rabbit warrens of the network.