I went shopping in town with Mandy, determined to spend a little of the extra money I'm making, only to get hit by the beginnings of a bad cold on my way out the door. For some reason, I only ever get colds on Saturdays. I don't understand this. To make myself feel better, I bought a hat in H&M, the kind of hat a filmaker would wear backwards over his head, with a scarf and glasses. Naturally, I wore it backwards.
I went back to the first few hundred words of Against Gravity and rewrote it a bit, but still keeping the basic situation and some random descriptive bits I liked. But starting your book with a guy vomiting noisily in a toilet cubicle does, I'll admit, lack a certain .... romance. I spoke with Phil, who scrapped what he's already written for the beginning of his own second attempt at writing a novel, which I've learned he's given the title Fancy. I know the feeling. I ended up prowling through my own bookshelves, looking at the opening paragraphs of random books, thinking about how they began, and how I could use their methods to my own advantage.
I went to see Travis as well, Saturday afternoon, to talk about his calendar, and work on ideas for how he could raise money to print a large quantity of them and, hopefully, sell them by the bucketload. They have a website, www.alienbabes.co.uk, although I just this moment took a look at it and it's very much still under construction. The calendar itself is very well done, and features a variety of more-or-less goth and punk chicks, generally semi- or entirely unclad, heavily photoshopped, and surprisingly tasteful. I think he's right when he says he's got a market for it. In the end I came up with more ideas than I thought I would. I'm fairly sure I've met some of the girls in the calendar, probably from back when I did design work on a magazine called Bite Me, for a very strange woman indeed.