17 December 2002
So Mark needs to be at work by 9:30, which means I need to be at the airport by 8:45. My flight leaves at 12:20. It's a good thing I entertain myself well. It's a good thing I have plenty with which to do so. I had a good work day at The Prolific Oven yesterday -- half an éclair is evidently inspirational. I have given up on deciding what is going to need punching up and what is going to need cutting in the final draft and am just putting the words down on the page. That other stuff will come later. Now is for drafting. Worrying can come later.
(Hah. If only I could manage not to worry about anything while I was drafting a novel. That'd be great. I'd be pretty much covered.)
In addition to writing several thousand words of Dwarf's Blood Mead at The Prolific Oven, I finished reading Across the Nightingale Floor. As I said elsewhere, one of the things I liked about this book is that it was about a pseudo-Japanese medieval setting, not About! A! Pseudo!-Japanese! Medieval! Setting! The author didn't dance around going, "They're Japaneeeeeeeese, look, they're Japanese, isn't that cool, they're not from here!" It was just set there. It was neat. Not perfect, but neat, and worth looking for the sequels.
(This is in contrast to Kij Johnson's The Fox Woman, I guess, because she was so constantly on about the kimonos that I felt like she was doing the They're Japanese Dance. I've since heard that Johnson is fairly involved with textiles in some fashion, so she was probably just obsessing about the part she thought was really neat. But since that was kimonos, it felt like she was dwelling on superficial Japaneseness. Otherwise an interesting book, but since I already had an idea of what kind of kimonos court ladies would wear in which seasons and circumstances, and since I'm not a very visual person to begin with, I kept groaning when I got to those bits.)
So when I got home, I typed the bits of DBM I'd written in the afternoon, and I finished my packing. I really get nervous packing for this long a stretch, especially at Christmas. I don't know what's going to show up for me. I would like to refrain from packing something if I'm going to get several other versions of it, but I'm pretty fond of surprises, so I can't just say, "Hey, get me a sweater, so that I don't have to pack another one." So...well, we'll see. The suitcase expands. If I packed too few books, I'll swipe other people's. Temporarily, of course.
I may swipe other people's anyway.
I have this mad fantasy that I'll get to the airport and someone at the Northwest counter will say, "You're so early! Do you want to go on an earlier flight?" But I don't expect this to happen. I expect to read sagas and write saga-esque things and drink juice and wander around the concourse. It'll be fine. Better than fine, even, I hope.
As always, I'll be in e-mail contact while I'm gone, just not posting to the journal here.
Well, so. I'm going to get in the shower and pack the nourishment (fruit leather, granola bars, a scone, and an apple -- hope I don't need them all) and then read some more of the essay collection I started last night, because you can pick up and put down essay collections without losing the thread. Or losing the plot, so to speak.
Those of you who have holidays left to celebrate, celebrate them well. Have a merry Christmas, a happy New Year. Whatever you've got, make it good.
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