1007.

Now the re-building. I'm finding this interesting: if you have a scene written (say) three years ago, you have re-read certain paragraphs without questioning them for awhile. And then, without warning, they lose meaning. Either because what you intended for them to convey is no longer necessary, or you've forgotten what crucial thing they do. The hope is to not cut through arteries, obviously, but to stay awake to what's actually still on the page.

1020.

For those of you taking bets, my hunch is that number will drop again in the next week, then start climbing up again. Then stop on June 1.

1027.

1047.

1053.

1056.

I'm noticing two types of re-writing: one is lightning like. You make a cut or you totally reconceive a scene and it's different. The other is a war of attrition. You make small, subtle changes and modifications and eighteen drafts later a hero is a villain. Or a nuance is a totally different kind of nuance. Or something that was foggy is now clear. You hope.

1064.

1068.

1077.

For those of you who are fans of integers, integers have returned. It should be a wild ride.

Okay, just this once

Normally, I don't do this kind of thing...but I find the above cover to be so very very cool I wanted to share. Plus: the homegrown Russian moire on that photograph is sort of wonderful. Is that chinless fellow the devil or Carter? I think -- given the Domino mask above -- it's the former.

Plus it's exciting to see footnotes, one of which (I'm guessing) explains the nuances behind the cry "This is for Custer! This is for the Alamo!"

Back to serial opacity.

-- 0 --

• Fewer red herrings. Unless they justify themselves. "Hey, cool! A herring! Gang, come over here -- it's a herring. It's red. Whoo-hoo!"
• Where does everyone go by the end?
• Benshi. As God is my witness...
• My scarecrow is still as wooden as ever.