Editing an anthology as large as this book of weird we’re doing is a bit like fighting a war or running some kind of multi-threaded private political campaign. Attrition. Battles won. Others to fight. Some things seen clearly. Some hazy as we feel our way through a dark forest. Others beckoning on the horizon. True light or false? Recalibrating. Secure that flank. Fall back over here. Rally again at this point. Hold the line right here no matter what…and it’s also like living in a cell of sorts. Working from morning until midnight. Rarely getting outside. Seeing the book come together bit by bit. Exercising at home. Watching the lawn turn to weeds. Wondering if it’s worth it. Well, at least by the end of this I’ll be able to bench two-fifty, if I don’t get knifed in the side.
/ / / / Living With the Weird