August 2nd, 2011 | daybook
Until I’d broken the back of this damned thing, I needed to put all my focus on it. In any case, this site has been pretty relentless for the last several years in curating and filing the world I see through the screen. I imagine everyone was probably due a break by now.
Even in this somewhat dubious report on the SDCC panel about that damned documentary they’re making about me, mentions of this are made.
Ellis’ huge nexus of contacts was never understated
And also "a query was made about how Ellis does not seem to relate to the comics community anymore." (Wanna read about just one of the reasons why?) Which of course just brings me back to this thing I wrote the other week. That query’s got some truth to it, obviously (another example is that I hand the Whitechapel message board over to Si Spurrier this Friday), although I do still monkey around with a few things behind the scenes, consultation and the like. And I can still send people a bit of traffic from time to time.
But I’ve reached the point in the novel now where I’ve emptied out a chunk of my headspace into it, and earmarked the other barrels in the back of my skull that’ll be tipped into the pit of the novel over the next several weeks, and my brain is registering clear areas. Which it doesn’t like, as it is a greedy organ trained to hoover up whatever is in front of it. It wants to make new connections and process new things. And making new connections does bring me moments of delight like this:
And, yes, surprisingly, it turned out that she did not think I was the Australian musician Warren Ellis. (Whom I haven’t heard from since Nick Cave suggested on French television that he put a hit out on me. Hm.) The email conversation that followed just made my afternoon, and this evening has put me to thinking. About the nature of engagement, even as I continue to disengage from so many things.
I tell you now: I never feel like I don’t have a whole career’s worth of work left to achieve. There is still so much to do.