Something That Bugs Me

I was reading a movie review when the reviewer sounded what for me is a familiar and dissonant chord. Why is it that regarding movies or books, people are quick to point out “coincidences” as if they are not credible?

Sure, unless a movie or book is completely about coincidences, they should be used sparingly, but they happen in abundance in real life. In fact, we don’t even KNOW how often they happen, how connected we all are, and how seemingly random moments often have a cause and effect we’re not aware of.

The thrill of watching a movie or reading a book is that it gives us, for a moment, a god’s eye, when we get to witness it all and know how it fits together. Why is fiction supposed to be less amazing than real life?

Zombies are people, too

Tim and I stayed up all night working on the new novel. Then we talked to our editor about various things and got a reprieve. Instead of having to be there the end of this week, it can be there next week. So we’ll ship the manuscript on Monday, I hope, one week from today. And then we might implode.

But at least I slept for five hours today. Tim is still up. But don’t worry. He’s not armed with anything except a razor sharp wit. And I suspect even that may be a bit dull right now.

Just another day…

…at the compound. We had snow last night for the first time in years. It melted quickly, but for those few hours, we had a white Christmas. Food was eaten, presents were opened, attention was demanded and given.

And today, things are back to normal. With one person hiding under the covers and the rest glued to TVs.

Me, I just want to finish writing a book before it finishes me, and to that end, I’ve been keeping company with nocturnal creatures. Last night I was sure there was a mouse in the house, but I think it was just my own delirium.

Off to eat prime rib and play cards with friends.

Merry Christmas to all, and if that’s not a holiday you celebrate, then just have a great day. =)

Are we there yet?

I have a client on the way. Which means poor Timothy rolled out of bed and started vacuuming. Sleepvacuuming. I wonder if there’s a drug for that? I wonder if he’d share?

On the plus side, my FREAKING order from insightoutbooks finally came, so I can ship out my Christmas presents later than I ever have. I don’t foresee anyone getting anything on time, but… I don’t control the world. Dammit.

Rewriting

I hate it when I have to delete several pages I’ve written because they just didn’t go where I hoped they would.

Time and page constraints… two evil phantoms when I’m trying to let the characters take the story. But I don’t have months to go on journeys with them or the freedom to submit a manuscript of endless pages…