25 September 2004

I made out a schedule for myself last week, how many chapters I should finish each week. I've finished this week's, and I have another writing day left in the week. I have two short stories on the list, plus some others that aren't on the list. I have other tasks on the list, too, some writing-related and some not. I can just ignore the book today and do something else.

I think I'll work on Chapter 30. Or maybe Chapter 52. Sometimes it's a good idea just to stay out of the brain's way.

Ginger is officially A Bad Influence: The Tea Source up in St. Paul has a tart herbal beverage that substitutes for iced tea for those of us who can't have caffeine. Unlike most herbal teas, it's really pleasant cold (because it was designed for that purpose). It's a good thing it's almost no longer iced tea season, or I might well get addicted. Also we went into Half Price Books -- see? Bad Influence! (The innocent Jim was clearly drawn into her Bad Influence; certainly he is far too pure of heart to be any kind of Bad Influence on his own. Naturally. Of course.)

Ginger, in addition to being A Bad Influence, is something of a second chance for me, and vice versa. We knew each other well enough in college to have each other fixed in mind as "somebody nifty," but then circumstances conspired and we didn't get to be friends enough to keep in touch. Circumstances have managed to un-conspire themselves, and here we are again.

I've finished reading Superluminal, which fed my need for something really and truly genre SFnal. Every once in awhile I need something with multiple planets or nanotechnology or space battles or space diplomacy or sentient programs, stuff that revels in being SF. This does. I wanted more of Jill the Former Ferret, but one (I am told) cannot have everything.

What I have, in lieu of everything, is Patricia Wrede and Caroline Stevermer's The Grand Tour, and I think for the time being that it will do. And that much more would be too much. I am once again hooked into Kate and Cecy's adventures. If we have no wild rice pudding once again tonight, you will all know who the two potential culprits are: my book and theirs.