Thursday, May 29, 2003
I wrote 1,016 words on Chapter Four of Murder of Angels yesterday. Scheherazade stays the inevitable for another night. Looking back over yesterday's entry, I think maybe I was being a little melodramatic when I wrote, "Here we are. Entertain us. Or die." I should have said, "Here we are. Entertain us. Or starve and live in a cardboard box on the street." But "Or die" fit better with the whole Arabian Nights thing, so there you go. Writers rarely receive quick, merciful beheadings; for our lot is reserved the Death of a Thousand Cuts. Anyway, I'm going to try to finish Chapter Four by Monday evening. Five days should do it (counting today and Monday).
I'm listening to Ben Folds on the headphones. He and Tori Amos are touring together and I've been trying to decide whether or not to shell out the small fortune for tickets. I rarely go to big shows anymore. I just can't bring myself to pay the exorbitant ticket prices.
That's it for today. I need to conserve the words for the novel.
Oh, if you urgently want something from the Cat Crutches Auction, you might want to order now. I think we'll soon be putting the Auction on hiatus for a while.
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