I fucking hate Kenny Rogers.
At around 1am last night, I was colouring page eleven of the Halloween special and thinking to myself how close I was cutting this thing. How I would just barely make it if I worked until at least 4am and worked all day on Tuesday (to-day). I thought to myself, "Gee, if something unexpected happens and detours me for, oh, four hours, I don't think I can do this."
And then there came a rapping on my chamber door.
It was my grandmother, who needed to be taken to the ER. She'd had surgery on her gallbladder that morning and now she was worried because she was getting sick and her blood pressure was up. Sitting next to her at the hospital, I felt one hour turning into two into three into four . . .
I coloured one page to-day, as quickly as I could, cutting a few corners, and found I wasn't able to colour it in under an hour. If I really put pedal to the metal, and sacrificed quality, I still couldn't finish this thing before to-morrow. And I don't want to sacrifice quality.
So I've decided I'm going to shelve this thing until next Halloween. I'll finish it over the next couple of days, and if you're a friend of mine and you want to see it, e-mail me and I'll send you a copy. But I'm afraid the rest of you will have to wait for next year. In the meantime, I'll be starting on a new project. A project I'll be giving myself at least a month to finish.
Gee, damn, as Holly Golightly would say. Ever get the feeling the gods really don't want you to do something? I worked twelve hours a day for two weeks on this thing, blowing off friends and movies and television and books . . . Bah, fuckbug.