Monday, April 28, 2003
Yesterday was stubborn, difficult, slow - take your pick. The words came in a stingy trickle and left me feeling, in the end, as if it was all crap. All day spent chasing the story, chasing my own tail, tale, tell, and all I had to show for my exhaustion was 848 words. I read it back to Jennifer and Kathryn and they liked it. I'm still not sure. Today will be better, most likely.
Still, no title.
I suspect that yesterday I was still a little weirded-out by Birmingham. At the bookfair, sitting in the authors' hospitality room, talking to the man who plays organ at The Alabama Theatre, I realized no one was wearing a cape or a sword or walking around with a fire lizard perched on his or her shoulder. That alone made the experience unusual for me.
Yesterday I wrote to Apoptygma Berzerk. I'm not sure what I'll write to today.
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