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Yes, stop the presses. I wrote that title and suddenly remembered a scene from Beauty and the Beast, where Gaston is nursing a beer and trying to think of ways to get Belle:

Gaston: LaFou, I’m afraid I’ve been thinking.
LaFou: A dangerous pass time.
Gaston: I know.

(only with a nice melody I’d mangle horribly.)

I was reading the latest installment on Editorial Ass about Black October and the rocky ride the publishing industry has been having recently, and yes, I admit that when the news of layoffs and closures first hit, my first thought was “well hell. I’m never getting published now.” Not the most laudable sentiment, but there you are. So I sat and bit my nails some more, and if you’ve read any of the previous posts in this blog you know I didn’t really have any nails left. It was bloody and painful. There are band aids now, and I’m going to have to find new things to chomp on while I worry about stuff for a while here.

Anyway. Moonrat’s explanation helped, and so I’m buying a book every two weeks or so for the next, well – ever. This won’t be too wildly far off from my usual book-spending habits, except I’ll a) space it out instead of wandering into a Borders or the local used bookstore once every few months and going nuts, b) try wandering into Barnes & Noble and the two local book shops as well, c) stop (*sob*) frequenting the used bookstores for a bit, as buying used doesn’t really do anybody but me any good, and d) start making a christmas list for everyone I have to buy presents for: yes, dear family, you’re all getting books. What better gift, really?

Um. This doesn’t mean I don’t want you to get me those things I listed a few days ago, though.

So. Buy a book, people. Save an industry.