Saturday, January 25, 2003
I think we're having a heat wave. It's a balmy 37-degrees Fahrenheit out there.
Yesterday I wrote over 1,000 words and, more importantly, finished Chapter Three. It's one thing to think that you're going to finish a chapter on any given day, it's another to actually do it. Three chapters and a prologue. It's starting to feel like an actual novel. Tomorrow, when I go back to work, I'll be writing my story for Medium Rare Books' absinthe anthology, then it'll be on to Chapter Four, just as soon as the story is done (my deadline is the end of February, but I really can't spare more than a week and a half for the piece).
Last night's episode of Farscape, "Twice Shy," was exceptional, perhaps the best since Season Three (with the possible exception of "Unrealized Realities"). It is absolutely unthinkable that Sci-Fi has chosen to cancel the show.
But everyday the unthinkable becomes more commonplace and, after all, it's only a tv show . . .
Right.
Yesterday, I re-read some Joseph Campbell, and listened to The Hounds of Love while I cooked beef stew for dinner. Having Friday dinner guests is becoming a nice routine. It's so weirdly normal. I don't get a lot of normal, and it's even rarer that I appreciate the normal that I do get.
Anyway, I decided yesterday afternoon, having finished Chapter Three and being at least 10,000 words ahead of schedule, that I'm going to give myself a day off today. I'm taking Spooky to see The Two Towers, which she's not seen yet and which I've seen only once. We might check out a local cemetery, and I may drop by the Apple store. A day without frelling work, without writing (this doesn't count). A day without guilt for having not written. It'll be nice.
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