13 May 2003
And here we are in zombieland. Ughhhhhh. Usually I can fall asleep right away, and then I stay asleep for at least six hours, and that's good. Last night, the neighbors started screaming just as I had slipped off to sleep, and they jolted me awake, and then I was in that messy, bleary half-sleep for much of the rest of the night.
I got Timprov from the clinic. He is also in zombieland. Well, at least there's, wossit, thematic unity.
Last night I wrote several pages of short story and came up with -- no, wait, sit down this will be a shock to you. Okay, ready? Came up with another novel idea.
Maybe not quite so shocking. But here's the thing: that makes forty-one. Which is a lot to begin with. And then, and then I looked for the old journal entry that talked about my project list. I found it, from a little over a year ago. You can go compare numbers, if you like. I've written two of the books on the list in that year, so they are now removed from the list. And the number is still very nearly doubled. Is that frightening to you? It's frightening to me. It's very, very scary to look at a year and a bit from now, 2004, say July, and wonder, oh, will I have 80 novels ready to write by my 26th birthday? Oh dear. I'm not sure. The research for this new idea will probably spawn short stories, too.
So. I finished Deadly Feasts, which was a kind of scary book, and started reading Diane Duane's The Door Into Fire. It's an older Diane Duane, and I have to say I like her Wizard books better. Especially because they lack these love scenes. Uff da mai.
I'm going to go with the default options: work on the book, read the other book. I think that'll work.
And the main page.
Or the last entry.
Or the next one.
Or even send me email.