Have you PREORDERED? If not, please take a moment to preorder at least a dozen copies of the Alabaster: Wolves hardcover. Just kidding. Four will do. But, kittens, this is how you get more. Also, maybe we'll get a Dancy/Maisie girl-on-ghost action centerfold, if I ask Greg nicely.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,397 words on Chapter Four of Fay Grimmer and reached the conclusion of the chapter, which, by the way, is titled "Stuff Happens (and Road Trip)." Today, I begin Chapter Five. As much as I plan anything, I plan for the novel to have eight chapters. The March continues.
Not much else to say about yesterday. A day spent writing after a day at the sea is always pretty much a forgettable day. All days writing blend seamlessly, monotonously, one into the other. Maybe that's why I keep this LJ. Yesterday was still fairly warm, though very windy. By evening, clouds rolled in and brought rain. We say that clouds roll, and it's true that they do often roil, but do they actually roll? They seem, to me, to glide. Regardless, they brought rain, and cooler weather. Today's high is forecast for the high 50s Fahrenheit, about twenty degrees cooler than yesterday. Oh, and I've had a sinus headache for three days, but that's sort of neither here nor there. Last night, Spooky made red beans and rice with chicken andouille.
We played a LOT of GW2, leveling our Asura. Just think hamsters who have evolved into obnoxious little humanoids. With really big fucking brains. And, by the way, whenever I feel "shame" at being a gamer (I could be rereading Dostoyevsky!), I just think about all those people who fool themselves into thinking that poker is a game of skill, or who salivate before the Cults of Football and Basketball, or who never miss trivia night at their local sports bar. Because, you know how it works. We build ourselves up by tearing down our fellows. Well, someone's fellows. Not mine, natch. Rarely, do I demean my own fellows. It helps that I have so few.
We watched two more episodes from Season Five of House, M. D.. Still rocking out with its cock out. I'm pretty sure my three male TV role models are Gregory House, Hank Moody, and Al Swearengen. Oh, and Walter Bishop. Probably not a good sign.