If I Don't Get My Way....

I was dozy again, today. I've discovered that, while I can draw through exhaustion, I cannot write. When a rainy afternoon defied my powers of description, I threw in the towel and had a nap. A longtime Vancouverite, stumped for words for rain--that's just not normal. That's like a Swede going "What snow?", or a sailor forgetting the sea. I think it might even have been raining, and there I was, staring at the screen:

A raindrop landed....

A raindrop hit the glass with such force that it...it, uh...it made an explosiony mark.

A raindrop hit the glass like a splat of birdshit. Pfoooooot.

It rained.

It rained a lot.

Arthur looked out the window. He saw a seagull. Then, it started to rain. "Shit," said Arthur. "It's raining. Now, everything will get wet." Everything got wet.

The heavens opened. "Ah, parmi che a lui d'accanto, si schiuda il ciel per me," said Arthur. Ha, ha, ha. Wow. I'm not plagiarising--I'm paying homage.

I had a really strange dream, while I was napping. At first, I didn't realise I'd gone to sleep. I was lying in my bed (which I really was doing: I was too lazy to go back to the couch. I shut my eyes right here, with my laptop pushed off to one side)--anyway, I was lying in my bed, and an earthquake hit. It wasn't a joggling-and-shaking quake, though. It was more of a rocking-gently-from-side-to-side quake. I slid from one edge of the bed to the other. Then, my bedroom turned into the Grand Canyon, and Clint Eastwood showed up. (And then, I realised I was sleeping.)

Once I came to, I had no trouble finding the words I needed. I might even have gotten a little carried away. At any rate, I finished my two thousand words (which brings me to twelve thousand, now), and read the whole thing from start to finish. I thought it would be all choppy, owing to having been written in two-thousand-word bites, but it's not as bad as I'd thought. I'm not going to read it again till I've finished. It might be like drawing, see: if you stare at the same mistake long enough, it stops looking like a mistake. To you, that is. To everyone else, it's glaring. So I reckon I'll write the whole first draft, then spend a week writing something else, and then give it the old once-over.

I have no idea if this is a good idea or not. ("This" meaning my reading strategy, and also the novel itself. Ha, ha. Still, at least I'll be able to say I got off my arse and did it. That counts for something, eh?)

In other news, all my nerd friends are talking about the upcoming release of the Playstation III. Since I cannot afford one, every time I hear someone else getting excited, my blood goes all poisonous and green. You can't imagine the depth of my envy. Man, I've got to sell this stupid novel. If I don't get a Playstation III, I'm going to eat my own feet. No--everyone else's feet. No--a shotgun. This is the worst! The absolute pits! WHAT A PAIN!

(Yeah, I said it!)