No, no, this time it has nothing to do with over-priced textbooks and a vodka bottle. It is strictly professional. And it involves doing what I love. So let me clarify that I'm not complaining, at least right now. Aside from having my psyche assaulted by some crazy people--occupational hazard--I have been hard at work trying to turn my recently-completed novel into a Super Completed Novel. Third draft revisions are nearly complete on Scarlet Letters. Revisions are going so well with it, that I think it just might have a chance, no matter how bleak so many writing blogs can get about the low chances of success with first-time novels. At any rate, the book will soon be in the hands of some apparently enthusiastic gamma readers (we'll see how they feel after they've read a few chapters), whose opinions really will be worth their weight in Benjamins. After that, it will be going off to the Industry Folk who will hopefully be able to peddle it into
Okay, so nothing I write will likely ever be of service to a homicide investigation (unless the victim was, say, murdered by the physical manifestation of a dream chimp with rabies...), or turn me into a millionaire for that matter, but it would still be fun.