The self-imposed media blackout is over and, speaking for myself, I don't feel that I missed all that much. I DID plan my blackout so I could be entertained by the premiere of Drive last night. A little mind candy in the intellectual diet is a good thing and the show has strong ties to Joss Whedon, so I was more than willing to give it a chance, despite it airing on Fox, against whom I still harbor a smoldering resentment for its treatment of Firefly. (I'm Southern; we know how to hold a grudge professionally.) Not to mention that I live in the very heart of NASCAR country, so I figured a show about an illegal, cross-country road race would be right up my alley.
It was also a nice break from working on the show, which opens this Friday. That means I'm in the midst of the "ohmigod, ohmigod" phase where I'm fretting about - well, everything. I'm trying to be all calm and existentialist about it (you know, "It'll come together or it won't, and either way, we're all going to die one day and it won't matter"), but I'm a lousy existentialist. (Yeah, I know that's a gross oversimplification of the philosophy, but it's my blog, so go away.)
Also, just this morning I finished the first draft of the most recent chapter of the book I'm drafting. I need to review it, then turn it over for editing. As you know from this blog, I'm a big ol' honking Whedonian and I was fascinated by the idea that a hard-line atheist could write characters who were so often wrestling with issues raised by faith, both the religious and the not-so-much variety. (Just my thought - always stick with the folks who are wrestling with these issues and steer clear of the ones who think they've got it all figured out. They're smug about things and quite possibly wrong, especially if they begin talking about smiting.) Anyway, I finally got off my speculative duff and sought out like-minded people. I started presenting my work at conferences and one thing led to another. I now have a contract for a book that focuses on issues of faith and belief in Whedon's work, with the manuscript to be turned in at the end of the summer. I'm simultaneously thrilled by the prospect of having this sort of work published, humbled by the publisher's willingness to take a risk on me, and scared to death that I'll muff this opportunity. Then again, I have people who ought to know telling me that I'm doing just fine, so who am I to contradict them? You'll hear more about the manuscript as things progress, but there's plenty else to discuss as well, and quite frankly, some days I just don't want to talk about it.
So what are YOU up to these days? Ostrich polo? Teaching a dog to peform on the trapeze? Learning to eat fire? I'd like to know.