I feel like I should take a bow , leave the stage, and never blog again after "The Maltese Futon" post.
But I won't. Because I have other things to babble about in this post.
Because my book is done. At least done enough that I can send it on to my editor, and pretend it isn't my problem for a bit. Let me also note - because everyone around here seemed to think it would be heretical for an academic to do so - that it is done and available to be sent on-time.
But it won't because when I e-mailed my editor the list of questions I'd been compiling about the process and things I didn't know about how they wanted this draft to appear, I received a reply telling me they wouldn't even be looking at it until maybe early September and so to hold off a little bit as they'd be out of town anyway, and also the bibliographic formatting had been changed.
For those of you who care, it came out to 251 pages, though that's with the charts and such pulled out (and there are a lot of 'em, my friends). My longest sentence is still 70 words (though I do hold out hope there might be some easy way to find that sentence so I can take it down a notch).
But it is (more or less) done.
Slate: "In the Ivory Tower, Men Only"
2 hours ago