Long

Page 878, and no end in sight. If things keep up at this pace, and plot, this may be the longest Anita book ever. I may finally break that thousand page mark. Not a goal I ever wanted to make. I, unlike Charles Dickens, don't get paid by the word. I'm off to bed.

Blessing and Curse

Anita has had one of those painful revelation moments. It's either going to be an epiphany that changes completely how she looks at her life and the men in it, or she's going to realize that the knowledge doesn't actually change anything that has gone before. It will change how will deal with certain vampiric abilities in the future, but what's done is done, alls well that ends well, pick your saying. The milk has spilled and you can't put it back in the bottle. You just have to clean up the mess, and buy more milk. Anita's leaning towards the whole epiphany thing, and as her stress level rises, so does mine. I've tried for it not to effect me, but it does. We're planning an outing with our daughter and her friend this weekend. Real family bonding time. I'm so far into Anita's head, that it seems like a weird thing to do. I've reached that magical point where her world is almost more real than anything else, yet not. When I'm like this, it's a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it helps me write and breath life into the world. A curse because it's hard to be thinking about vampires and wereleopards when I'm supposed to be helping with homework, and planning family weekends. I have to fight to be truly present in my everyday life, and not so far inside my head, that I'm only there in body, not in spirit. Yet, I strive to keep spirit in that book world, because to lose the feel of a book too much impedes the writing. Deadline is well past, I can't afford to be impeded. A juggling act, this. One I've never truly mastered.

Six pages today. I owe myself at least four more, and I'd prefer five.

Allergies and morning music

Mold count was around 122,000 parts per yesterday. No wonder all of us here thought we were sick. Most of the household and staff suffer from allergies to one degree or another. Yesterdays count set a new record for the St. Louis area, which is one of the worst areas in the country for allergies anyway. Today isn't much better. It's like trying to think through mud. Movement is like having to push through cobwebs. They don't really restrict your movement, but they distract, and set you off balance. I finally dragged my allergy befuddled mind up to work. I have hot tea, thank God, and all I needed was music. Audioslave bad first thing in morning when head is hurting. It's a great album, but not when you feel like you have a hang over. Jon and I have actually started calling them allergy hang overs. It's accurate. To ease into the morning, I've got one of the Harry Potter soundtracks in, and even that seems a little loud. God, I don't feel well. My body's allergies have done this to me. I cannot imagine drinking enough to do this to myself on purpose. I'm going to look for even quieter music, and try to make pages.

Done a little early, yea!

Did four pages before lunch today. Nice change. I'm ending the day at 4:30 in the afternoon with 11 pages to my credit. Yea! Wrote most of the day to Christmas music of various Rat Pack members; Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr. But in the last half, or more, of the writing was done to Audioslave. What I think was their debut album, which is self-titled, Audioslave. So far I like the whole damn album. Very cool. I'm quitting work for the day. First time in days that I've been done this early without feeling like I still owe myself pages.

Nearly ten and all is not well

It is nearly ten o'clock at night. Jon and I just finished helping Trinity with her homework. She had scouts until 5:00, and we had to have dinner, but damn. It's a lot of homework. I managed to get two pages, which, I guess, with the disrupted day I've had isn't horrible. It just feels horrible. It feels like the book is becalmed in the middle of a very big, very empty ocean, and I have no idea which way is shore. I'm going to bed now before I grow anymore maudlin.

A disrupted day

People are cutting through my living room wall. Saws, nail guns, loud shit. I am hiding up in my office, trying to escape the noise. God, I will be so glad when the addition is finally done. Soooo glad. Dogs are upset, even hiding up here with me. Their hearing is better than mine so it must be really annoying to them. One of them decided to pee on the small dog bed by the desk. Then they all sit around staring at me like, "Our bed is all messy. Aren't you gong to fix it for us?" They act like the pee-fairy did it. But we have stranger's in the house and heavy tool work, and it's stressful to a little dog. I'm sure Pippin was not involved in the incident, the puddle isn't that big. Another plus of little dogs, the messes are smaller.

The day started with an 8:00 A.M. parent teacher conference this morning. Jon, me, and Gary, my ex-husband. Apparently we are one of the few divorced parents that can actually come to these meetings and behave civilly to one another. You should hear some of the things Trin's first grade teacher said that some of her divorced parents had done in front of the kids on parent's night. She had to explain herself after both Gary and I hadn't understood why she felt we needed two separate times for conferences. Why couldn't we do it all at once? So she explained that it had gone badly in the past. We assured her that that wasn't the case for us, and it isn't. Now, everyone knows that they don't have to worry about any of us misbehaving. We're there for our kid. Some parents must forget that.

Allergy shots rounded out the morning. Yippee. As, Trinity has begun to say, "That was sarcasm, wasn't it, Mom?" Yes, that was sarcasm. I'm going to try and do some work.

Dreading work and what we did this weekend

Feel terrible today. Dreading getting to work. No idea why. But as often happens when the day seems to weigh a thousand pounds, I got five pages done before I had to break for exercise. No, exercise is not fun, but being healthier is. I guess exercise is a lot like writing. The process isn't always fun, but the results are great.

Jon and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary this weekend. No, it's not the actual day of the anniversary, but it is the only non-kid weekend we will have before the actual date. And yes, for those of you who met us before we wed, we've been a couple for five years. I prefer to celebrate on the actual date or before the date. So since it's my preference I gave Jon the choice of what to do over the weekend. I offered to take him out to a restaurant that he likes better than I do, but he preferred to trade dinner out for dinner in, and a movie out. We saw LORD OF WAR. A very dark drama-edy. Not light enough to even be a dark comedy. It was good, but a disturbing movie. It leaves a cynical and near depressed feeling behind it. So Jon and I hit the video store on the way home and got some comedies that we hadn't seen yet. We figured among three, we'd find one we wanted to watch during dinner. Monster-in-Law was a delight, though a little slow in the beginning, but it's just packed full of wonderful performances, great physical comedy, and just a feel good movie. (We needed it after Lord of War.) Man of the House with Tommy Lee Jones as a Texas ranger trapped in a sorority full of cheerleaders was surprisingly good. It's a bubble gum movie, and you get your Hollywood ending, but again, Jon and I wanted a little Hollywood ending after the earlier movie. Though one thing in Man of the House that surprised me was the clothes the girls were wearing. I asked Jon is this really what girls are wearing in their teens and early twenties? Like out in public? Jon said, yes. I asked, "Then what are street hookers wearing?" I wasn't trying to be funny. I was being serious. The last time I saw women dressed like this was when I was doing research on street prostitution. Admittedly, that was somewhere around book eight, BLUE MOON, so about eight years ago. Has clothing changed that much? I mean I watch videos, but I thought everybody realized that those are costumes, not street clothes. I asked, well then what are the same age of men wearing? Baggy shorts, pants, over sized shirts. As the women are exposing more and more flesh, the men are covering up more and more. That is just plain unfair. Why so much female flesh and no male flesh? Who made this rule? Damned unfair, if you ask me.

Jon loves to cook, and, in fact, does the lion's share of the cooking. He wanted us to cook dinner together to celebrate our anniversary. Mushroom soup with Sherry, it was a lot of chopping, slicing, and dicing. I did that part. So Jon could do the actual cooking. On a recipe I've never made before, I prefer to take a back seat and just hand over ingredients as requested. It was a lot of work. It smelled wonderful. Unfortunately, it didn't taste wonderful. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly good either. We actually added sandwiches to the soup, and didn't really eat the soup. Tastes differ, and whoever did this particular soup had different tastes that we. But it wasn't about the soup. It was about being in our kitchen together. About doing something together that is a lot more intimate than movie and a dinner out. Sex is great, and that was included in the weekend, but the sex wouldn't be happening if we weren't cooking together, reading together, sharing together. A good sex life comes out of the rest of your life being good. Foreplay can sometimes be chopping a bejillion vegetables, and making soup together.

I gave Jon his present before the movie, because I have trouble keeping a secret,and it's always best I give surprises as soon as possible, so I don't spill the beans. I got him the Slytherian class ring from Nobel collection. Because some day's you feel like an evil, dark wizard and some day's you don't. Frankly, the ring looked beefier in the catalogue shots, but Jon loved the reason I bought it for him. One of the reasons we work so well together is that we both know, and enjoy, that not everyday is a Gryffindor kind of day. My first husband just totally didn't get that.

In a couple of weeks, after our anniversary is past, we will have another kid-free weekend. It will be Jon's turn to celebrate our anniversary. His turn to get me a present. My turn to pick what I want to do with the weekend. I'm probably going to opt for dinner out. Beyond that, don't know, but I look forward to finding out.

Progress not in miles, but in inches

I've counted my progress not in pages, but in sentences. It's six o'clock, and I'm struggling for just twenty more lines. Twenty more lines will get me four pages, and I can throw in the towel for today. It will be a relief. Four pages is progress, and on a day like today it's as much as I can drag out of myself.

Well, as often happens on days when I've beaten my hands bloody on the metaphorical wall, that last desperate effort when I was dead tired, discouraged beyond measure, and hadn't give up on anything but a pyrrhic victory, is when I get the most pages done. It's almost like all those false starts, thrown away pages, had to get out of the way to let the good stuff through. Whatever I have ten pages for the day. Ten pages, respectable, and very happy to have it.

Christmas problems

Dean Martin has finally paled on me. I switched to Tony Bennett, but it just wasn't what I wanted. Right now, it's the Barenaked Ladies holiday album playing behind me. I have a stack of holiday albums waiting beside the player. I think next in the stack is the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. The fact that I'm listening to one holiday album after another let's you know just how slow the writing is going. Aaahhh! I just have to keep repeating to myself, we're almost done, we're almost done. Of course, that chant worked better two hundred pages ago, when I thought the book would end at six-hundred pages. Now, as we are almost eight hundred pages into the book (788) the matra of almost done just doesn't have the ring of authenticity that it used to have. Damnit. We are so hitting eight hundred pages, and that leaves me with nine hundred looming on the horizon. I do not want this book to be nine hundred pages long. And longer might drive me mad. The deadline is looming, and I need this book done. Damnit. I'm starting to look around at ways to shorten the ending, and wrap things up faster, and that's never a good frame of mind to write in. You get sloppy, and rush. Maybe I need to meditate, or take the dog for a walk around the block. Something to quiet that voice in my head that is screaming, just fucking finish it! Bad voice, bad anxiety. Usually that worried voice is an asset, and helps me write faster, but there comes a point where it's a detriment, and this is it. Hell, I've done almost anything to avoid sitting at my desk today. I've even switched desks. It helped, for awhile. I think this is my second blog entry for the day, and I did two yesterday, as well. I'm portioning them out, but they're just another way to avoid the book. I'll write a few sentences then need to do something to calm down. Sometimes I do this, usually in the middle of a book, but sometimes at the end. I hate it at the end. It all works out, but it feels miserable until I find a way to deal with the anxiety. In the middle of a book, I just work through it, at the end of a book it doesn't usually go away until the book is finished. That's why I hate this mood more at the end of a book, because it usually lasts longer. I'm going back to work now.

More noise, more building

The new addition has pierced the main house at last. We knew it would, but I've been banished to my office with all four of the dogs. Not because the dogs wanted to come up, but because the workmen couldn't tear out a door, replace it with a window, and make more wall where they split the difference. Pippin especially is unhappy at being excluded from all the excitement. He's pacing, and starting to be more descrutive than normal with some of the stuffed dog toys. A Santa snowman that has survived since last Christmas may bite the dust from his worrying at it. Sasquatch is a little worried about all the banging downstairs, but he's settled down with Phouka on the dog bed. Jimmy is pacing to, but it's a different level of pacing between a two-year-old dog and a fifteen-year-old dog. But they'd both like to investigate what's happening downstairs. They probably wouldn't want to stay with all the noise, but they'd like to investigate. Funny that the full-blooded pugs are much calmer and less worried about it. Jimmy being half beagle, and Pippin being half boxer, one quarter Brittany, it just seems to make them both more interested in patrolling the area.

I'm still listening to Dean Martin croon Christmas carols. Late yesterday I was finally able to switch to Nickleback, but mornings this week have been Christmas with Dean. Sigh.

Gloomy day

So tired. Rain and storms off and on all day. I used to love rainy days because my grandmother wouldn't force me to go outside and play. I hated to be outside after a certain age. I just wanted to read and be left alone. I don't know what my grandmother thought I'd do outside. She just couldn't stand the thought of me spending a beautiful day reading. I'd sneak a book out with me, until she caught on and started searching me for them. But if it rained, no outside. I did my chores. I helped with the gardening and yard work on a nice day, but other than that I wanted to read. She loved some books, and some poetry, but she didn't understand my near obsession with reading. In later years she apologized, said, "How was I supposed to know how important books were to you?" I value the apology, it's probably one of a handful that anyone ever heard from her.

I suppose I haven't dealt completely with loosing her this spring. Never easy loosing a parent, I guess. Not as hard as loosing my mother when I was six, no, not that hard, but still hard.

Thanks to everyone who donated to Granite City

This goes out to everyone who gave five dollars or something small to Granite City. A lot of you figured that the auction would go too high to play (you guys were more optimistic than we were; shame on us for doubting) so you gave smaller amounts to the shelter. I just wanted you to know that we appreciate it, and I did know about it. I was a little overwhelmed with Bev's generosity, and my own difficulties at beating the end of the book into submission. Though, today, it feels like the dragon is going to win. Maybe not. It's early yet. But if hope were a flame, it would be a match, in a high wind.

So thanks again to all of you. 99.9 percent of my fans are some of the best people on the planet. But like in every majority, sometimes it's the noisy unpleasant fraction of a percent that get the attention. So, to all you good guys out there, thanks.

Bad day at work

Bad day at work. No pages so far. Admittedly, the pages I was ready to trash yesterday, are actually good, just a few places to expand. But, somehow I just can't settle down to work today. Restless, and just want the book done. It makes me want to rush, and you need to take your time at the end of a book, not rush. But my impatience is showing. I'll tell you how bad I'm feeling today about the work, I'm listening to Christmas carols. I'm tired of all the music that I listened to during this book. All of it. Even the Scary Solstice carols from the H.P. Lovecraft society cannot get me out of my deep blue funk. I am listening to Dean Martin sing Christmas carols. Why Dean Martin? No idea. All I know is that as he croons "Silver Bells" my anxiety begins to seep away. Of course, now I've got to break to lift weights. Which is extremely irritating with no pages, yet. And I have an appointment with my landscaper at 2:00. Shit, my whole day is just going to be gone. Tonight's supposed to be date night for Jon and me. Which is great, but the deadline pressure is beginning to get to me. Just not enough of me to go around.

The auction for Granite City

Thanks to everyone who participated in the charity auction for Granite City. We were all floored that Bev paid 7,100 dollars for the priveledge of having her name used in a future Anita book. Thank you so much for your generosity. In one fell-swoop we've raised enough for the animal shelter to have their sewer system fixed completely. If they had not been able to fix it the shelter would have had to close down. They are a no kill shelter, and some of their harder to adopt animals have been there for years. It would have been a tragedy for the animals.

We put up the auction before Katrina hit, so now there are even more homeless animals, not to mention loads of people who have lost everything. We've donated items, and some money, but we're actually looking at maybe an auction of some kind for the hurricane relief effort. The auction for Granite City brought in more money than we'd dreampt, so cool. Thanks again to everyone who participated, and thanks to Bev for her generosity. I think your name will get to be a corpse in book 14. Strangely, book 13, DANSE MACABRE, doesn't have any dead bodies yet. Unheard of for an Anita book. Of course with a few hundred pages still to go, you never know. Thanks again.

Quickish note

Trin's been home sick from school. Either the beginning of an upper respiratory infection, or the end of a mild virus. But as all you parents know, the kiddo home from school disrupts the day. So I've got a page and a half to my credit today. Not even two pages. Crap. We are starting to go through boxes before we move stuff over to the addition, too. We're down to the boxes that Jon and, or, I, have to make decisions on. Some things can simply not be left to others. There were other things, as well, business from New York. I'm giving it one more go for the day before raising the white flag. My goal is just another page and a half. Just four pages total. That's all. Frankly, when a day has been this disrupted, four pages seems hard. My normal goals are just off the board for the day.

I'm sitting at my desk with Sasquatch, our youngest pug, asleep across my arms. I can feel his throat vibrate against my arm as he snores. I've got Nickelback's SILVER SIDE UP on the head phones. It covers the sound of tools from the addition. We're hoping it's done by mid-October. The other three dogs are scattered around the room, on dog beds, and Phouka in her favorite haunt under the desk. I'm drinking tea out of my newest mug. It says "Big Bad Wolf" on it, the big bad wolf from the original Disney's THREE LITTLE PIGS is the image that goes with it. For some reason the mug pleases me a great deal. I've been trying to decide if any of the werewolves in my world would enjoy it. If I can come up with anyone, you'll get to see it in one of the books. A werewolf drinking out of a Disney, Big Bad Wolf, mug just amuses the hell out of me.

One quick note. I still don't think THE BROTHER'S GRIM worked, and some parts of it were awful, but some parts of it were very striking. Some of it worked. There were images that are almost totally unique, and that have stayed with me swirling in my imagination. The part that pissed me off, I've dealt with, and now I'm left with the images that worked. The visuals, and moments, that might not be as striking on the small screen. I still say go to the cheap show, or some such, but if my opinion might keep you from going at all, then go see it. Just ignore the whole making fun of the French, which I think could have been taken out entirely, and a little fixing of the script would have gotten us to where we needed to go. For the moments that sing, it's worth going, just be prepared that some of it not only doesn't sing, but it strangles on it's on mixed intentions.

Remembering 9/11, and a rant about Katrina

9/11/2001 changed the way most Americans viewed their world. Every anniversary of that day has been poignant, but this, the fourth anniversary seems more so. The government has been predicting another cataclysmic attack every since 9/11. We, the American people, have allowed the federal government to undermine our personal freedoms, all in the name of safety. We were promised that these measures would make us more secure, safer. Well we had the attack, but it wasn't terrorists. It was a natural disaster. The southern coastline of our country is devastated. New Orleans is a city forever changed. The government had at least three days warning that the storm was coming. Three days warning, and the reaction from Homeland Security, FEMA, every branch of the government seemed confused, unfocused, and inadequate to meet the terrible force set against us. Everyone finally agrees that the government, whatever branch, did not react in a timely manner. Lives have been lost, and my understanding, are still being lost for lack of proper care. The people on the ground in New Orleans and elsewhere, they are doing their best. I cannot imagine the conditions they must be working under. I cannot imagine what the survivors are going through. Our best wishes and prayers go out to everyone involved.

After the tragedy of 9/11 people were so afraid, that they voted their fears. They have allowed the federal government an unprecedented erosion of our own freedoms as Americans. Jon and I have stood in a lot of airports with our arms out, and our legs spread. We toured in early October just after 9/11. We were in San Francisco airport when it was evacuated for a bomb scare. Three hours we waited outside the mostly glass structure wondering when, and if, all that glass was going to be blown our way. Luckily, it was a false alarm, just some careless person leaving a package. Or at least, that's what we were told. We'll never really know. Don't have the clearance for it. But if we are in danger to the degree that our government has told us, then why are they going to get rid of thousands of the TSA workers at the airport. Their are reports of ten thousand, or more, being let go, from individual airports. If the danger is as grave as we were led to fear, then how can the government be cutting our safety measures at the airports? It makes no sense.

We were told that if we allowed them to begin to eat away at our personal freedoms, that we would be safer. I had hoped that they were right, but after what has happened in New Orleans, I do not believe it. The government had three days to plan, and they failed that city, miserably. Three days to plan. What would happen if we truly did get that terrorist attack out of the blue, no warning? Would the federal government be there to save us? I'm not saying they wouldn't want to save us, but I simply no longer believe that they have the organization or leadership to figure out how to save us. Jon and I had talked about getting a generator, and going more solar. That is no longer idle talk. We're not going to go all survivalist, but having power of our own, and extra food put by, is beginning to seem like a good idea. If the events in New Orleans had happened before the edition to our house was this close to finished, there would be an extra room with a generator, more solar power, and a stockpile. I do not want to frighten people, but I am frightened. I may complain about our current president, and be less than thrilled with him, but I had entertained that he had a plan. That someone on his cabinet, in his administration had a plan. I no longer believe that. We, the American people, have let the government eat away at our freedom of speech, dictate who we can and cannot marry, and are in danger of loosing even more of our rights as free citizens of this great country. All that we have given up, or had forced from us by the votes or apathy of our fellow citizens, and are we safer than we were three years ago? Has everything we gave up made us safer? If you said, yes, to that question, then I do not understand you. The government's failure, at every level, in New Orleans, makes the only answer to; are we safer now than three years ago, no. We are not safer. Our government is not more able or ready to help us. In fact, the government seems lost. I do not like feeling that my government is this out of touch, this confused. They have scrambled in the last few days to point fingers and blame like children a when a lamp gets broken. It wasn't my fault, it was his. I feel like the governed needs a mommy to come in and say, "I don't care whose fault it was, clean up this mess, and help these people."

We have donated in small ways to the relief efforts happening in the wake of this awful storm. We are trying to decide how to help in more major ways. It is all so overwhelming. I have found hurricane Katrina to be a more personally overwhelming disaster than 9/11. Why? Because I felt that our government did it's best during 9/11. I did not like that the federal government was trying to take away our rights as free citizens of this country. I didn't like the extra rules. I did not have the faith in the concept of Homeland Security that others did. But I had hoped, that even if they were doing it in ways I didn't like, that they had a plan. That the governed knew something I didn't. I now believe what I thought all the time, that some parts of our government used 9/11 for their own political agenda. That they fostered fear and anxiety among their voters to get re-elected. Their lack of sympathy and action about this predicted, anticipated disaster, has made it clear that they are not prepared. I do not believe that the answer is to give Homeland Security, or FEMA, or any federal agency more control over our state government, or the personal lives of the people. I believe that the answer lies at a more local level. We must regain our freedoms, believe in our selves, and not let anyone use our fear against us again. I'm not talking about the terrorists. I'm talking about our own governed officials. They used our fear of another attack from terrorists to pass laws, and institute new government programs. All to keep us safe. I believe that some of them will try and use this abysmal failure of the government to protect it's citizen to try and give the federal government more power over us. Do not let them. Do not let them use this for political clout. This isn't about politics. This is about all the people who have lost loved ones. Who have lost everything. But they are playing games with the survivors, even now. Countries around the world have offered us help, and the federal governed is refusing it. We need it, so why refuse it? They say it's for security reasons. That they don't want foreign planes in their air space. I just don't buy that a plane load from Sweden is a danger. Which is one country, among many that they have refused aid from. Why? Is it to keep us safer? I do not believe that. A lot of the countries that we helped during the tsunami have offered aid, but we are refusing it, or most of it. Unless the governed changed it's mind since last I checked. If they have, then I'm sorry, but to my knowledge we are turning away help. Help that the people of our southern coastline need. Why is our government turning it down? I don't believe it's security reasons, they've used that line for three years, I don't believe it anymore.

I believe the reason that our governed is not wanting to take the aid from other countries, is because we're America. We're a super power. We don't need anyone's help. Maybe the federal governed doesn't need the help of other countries, but the people of Louisiana do. I believe that the federal government is afraid to take up the offers of aid, because if they do, then it says, we, the super power need the
help of other countries. If we, the United States of America, need the help of other countries, then it begins to beg the question, are we a super power? I believe the federal government fears to take in all the foreign aid because it will make us look weak as a country. I believe that some of the federal governed are afraid to take all the foreign aid, because they fear it will lead to criticism of them. I believe that many of our politicians are more worried about politics than saving lives. I do not want to believe this. I disagreed on ideological grounds with many of the leading politicians, but I had thought that at some level they understood that politics isn't about power, not ultimately. Ultimately politics is about people. Please, anyone who is actually in charge of this disaster. Please, take the aid. Help these people. Fix this mess. Worry about our standing in the world community after the survivors have food, shelter, clean water, health care, and safety. We are the United States of America. We will still be that, if we let a plane from Sweden land in our country. We will still be America if we let all the countries we have helped over the years help us. Taking help from your friends is not weak. That is what friends are for. I know that it is naive to talk of friendship on a international political level. But, maybe, in this time of crisis, we could begin to realize that we have more friends than enemies in the world. The world may be puzzled by America. We are unique, and sometimes too loud, and too full of ourselves, too sure, but we are, after all, only 230 years old, as a country. We are a teenager, as countries go. Maybe it's time to grow up, and realize that we aren't isolated in our fears. That there are millions of people around the world, right now, right this minute, that are worrying with us. Strangers we will never meet have cried at the news of our losses. As we cried when the tsunami hit. As we cried when we heard of the tragedy on a bridge in Iraq. Tears do not make us weak. Tears prove that we have hearts.

Muse driven frustration

Too much news coverage of the terrible events in New Orleans. Needed something to try and take the mind off of things. Saw CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY. It was great. Nicely creepy, and fantastical. Also saw THE BROTHERS GRIM. I had real hope for the movie, unfortunately, the hope was not realized. It's the number two movie at the box office this week, and we contributed to that. I hope others who saw it were happier with the movie than I was. The movie tried to do too much. Action adventure, buddy film, comedy, horror movie. A very ambitious mix for anyone to attempt, and sadly this movie just didn't pull it off. Very disappointing. So disappointing in their use of fairytales that it pissed me off. I thought, I could do better than that. I had this same sense of anger and frustration years ago about vampires, and then fairies. I got two book series out of the fact that people were just not doing things the way I wanted to read them. Well, I got twelve pages, and the first chapter of a book where fairytales play a role. It's the first chapter probably of a book at least one, or two down the road from where I'm at now. Twelve pages in a rush of muse driven bitchiness. I can do better, well, then do it. Few things inspire me like seeing something that could have been really good miss the mark. Of course, my take on the whole fairytale has nothing in common with the movie that frustrated me, except that fairytales are involved. You're supposed to use things as inspirations not rip them off, or regurgitate them on paper. You can be inspired but find your own voice, and your own unique vision. Because that's what it's all about. Your own take on an idea that no one else could do.

The Mayor of New Orleans

The New York Times link to the radio interview transcript

You may have to register to the site, but its a free registry.

I have nothing to add. This man says everything I could, and he knows what he's talking about. Where I'd just be shooting my mouth off.

Give it a read. Or give it a listen through the mp3 link at the top of the page.