Jay Lake: Writer

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[writing] Those things we protect as if they were our lives

After a rump session of the Fireside group tonight, HJ and I went to the Iron Horse for a quick, light dinner. He’s a pretty quiet guy, so it was nice to get to converse with him without the Olympic-class competitive talking that characterizes most writer gatherings.

I was laughing at myself as I got there, however, because I carried into the restaurant with me both my computer bag and the galleys of Green. This is because if I left them locked in the trunk — the Genre car is a convertible and I leave nothing that might look important or valuable to a meth-head in the passenger compartment, ever — and someone were to steal the car, the hassle of replacing the car would be a lot less than the hassle of re-marking up the manuscript and replacing the computer.

Which ought to tell you something about my priorities. And you should see me with a copy edited manuscript. Sooner I would part with my voolnerables than with a CEM.

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