I did write this morning for about an hour. Put on my collection of Meatloaf songs (and others) that are part of my story playlist and cranked out about seven script pages, equalling about three scenes and 1,100 words. The last scene was a doozy, too, where the main character kind of/sorta/tries to admit that he’s a werewolf. Not surprisingly, he’s not believed. Then again, he’s not particularly furry at the moment, either.
I was supposed to take a break from writing for an hour, come back, but my five hours of sleep caught up with me. Instead I powered through the rest of that non-fiction book, April Blood, so I could get on to the newly acquired James Tiptree Jr: The Double Life of Alice. B Sheldon. (Check the Books I’m Reading page for linkage … I told ya I was tired!)
So I read today, and drank tea, and howled at my cat, since he was howling at me. I also murdered a duck, thereby proving that except for my tried and true methods, my cooking talent has all but fled. I also discovered, too late, that my apartment-sized oven does not accommodate my monster-sized roasting pan.
Now I’m trying to keep the office for writing-related activities. I did cheat a bit, surfed for a restaurant in Toronto for a friend of mine, but beyond that, very little Twittering and Facebooking. Reserving that mostly for the iPhone, or when the computer is not in the office. Blogging is a gimme. I’m allowed to do that in here.
It’s wonderfully quiet, which my living room is not. Somehow the TV gets turned on, the cat pays more attention to whatever it is I’m doing. I can hear the upstairs neighbor knocking around, where my parents, who are above my office in their apartment, are utterly silent (at least at this time of night).
I’m also starting to get officially nervous about tomorrow’s interview.
(Which reminds me, I should really bug someone about some hits/tips/insider information.)