You have witchcraft in your lips, Cate

The kind that turns ghouls and writers into besotted fools.

I now have a bad case of "the novel is always greener." My head's all filled up with Cate--the way she walks, the way her braids rattle when she tosses her head, the way she stands up straighter when she's angry... She's already won a bid for serious pov time in the San Antonio book, and threatens to steal it all away from Alex and Liz. I love Adrian too, but he is shy, and would rather someone else talked about him.

Ahhh, infatuation.

And of course, she's making me research geology and paleontology, so I can hold an intelligent conversation with her. Anyone want to go caving with me this summer?

But I am a dutiful writer, and I will open Dreams again today, and poke it with sticks. Maybe I no longer care if the draft is full of holes, as long as it's finished.

And for OWWers, I'll give you a cookie if you can spot all the T.S. Eliot references in tVH. :)

King's Quest!

cristalia, I could kiss you!

So, I'm reading The Toronto Book, as I have f-all else to do at work tonight, and I want so bad to cry at certain parts, but there is only rock and no water in these tearducts today, and all the mucous in my head is busy crawling down the back of my throat and choking me to death because breathing Dallas air is like getting up close and personal with an exhaust pipe today, and then it hits me, rather like the pressure against delicate bones inside my skull (which is not so much like a balloon, but rather a thousand tiny gnome hands all pushing around my nasal suture).

And poof, I'm back in the proper headspace to work on Dreams. And, what's more, I see what's coming, and I know how to put it together.

I said goddamn!

It's all about drawing maps for King's Quest.