Murphy's law...

Things never go to hell one at a time, they all decide to fuck up en masse. The FSA people are screwing me around, Word Pad is doing strange things on my computer, and we will not discuss my day at work.

On the other hand, I'm going to Schnauzerland for a dinner of lamb on Saturday evening (and canasta, and I will remember that T is a crazy m.f. when it comes to laying down cards he shouldn't), and I just had a lovely long chat with Liz about the workshops and church and thrift stores and so on...

I sat down and made a list of story ideas--any and every inkling of a quasi-original idea I've had in the last 20 years--at least as many of them as I can remember. A fairly mixed bag: mysteries, adventure, sci-fi, a comedy or two. And no, I'm not going to list them here. At this point, it's mostly contemplation; they're nebulous ideas without much substance: "Something with an island" is one of the jottings. (Inspired by the cover of a notebook I have--a winding alley with steps leading upward, a wooden door and bouganvillea hanging over a wall--how do I know it's on an island? I don't--but in my imagination, it is.) There's not even a plot, just...an island. With that alleyway somewhere in the town scattered across the hillside. Whose door is it? Where do the steps lead?

I'm off to answer e-mail now, and then to bed....

Murphy's law...

Things never go to hell one at a time, they all decide to fuck up en masse. The FSA people are screwing me around, Word Pad is doing strange things on my computer, and we will not discuss my day at work.

On the other hand, I'm going to Schnauzerland for a dinner of lamb on Saturday evening (and canasta, and I will remember that T is a crazy m.f. when it comes to laying down cards he shouldn't), and I just had a lovely long chat with Liz about the workshops and church and thrift stores and so on...

I sat down and made a list of story ideas--any and every inkling of a quasi-original idea I've had in the last 20 years--at least as many of them as I can remember. A fairly mixed bag: mysteries, adventure, sci-fi, a comedy or two. And no, I'm not going to list them here. At this point, it's mostly contemplation; they're nebulous ideas without much substance: "Something with an island" is one of the jottings. (Inspired by the cover of a notebook I have--a winding alley with steps leading upward, a wooden door and bouganvillea hanging over a wall--how do I know it's on an island? I don't--but in my imagination, it is.) There's not even a plot, just...an island. With that alleyway somewhere in the town scattered across the hillside. Whose door is it? Where do the steps lead?

I'm off to answer e-mail now, and then to bed....