I am having one of those days. It’s Friday! I’m photoshopping pictures of bedridden elderly ladies for a scare-tactics hand hygiene campaign! I just ordered new jeans ON THE INTERNET, because that’s how I like to roll, folks. Rebelliously. A little bit dangerously. I probably cannot be trusted with your children or stemware. WATCH OUT.
Dear running: let’s never break up again.
Last night, I got home from a quiz night with my mama around nine (NB: we won! Also, told you I was edgy!), clambered into bed to finish my bizarre bargain-bin book about magic pirates, and the next thing I knew it was 6am and I was cosily awaiting the arrival of my alarm feeling all well-rested and bushy-tailed. How often does that happen, you guys? Let me answer for you: THAT HAPPENS NEVER.
Here is a short summary of my usual sleeping habits, 1982-present:
10pm: I’m tired. Maybe I will go to bed soon.
11pm: Okay! In bed! Sleepy! This shit is going OFF!
12am: SO TIRED. What should I do tomorrow? LET ME JUST WRITE A LIST.
12:30am: GOD I AM SO TIRED. I wonder what would happen if character A did X instead of Y? Better write it down! Oh wait, gotta pee. That dog has been barking for ages. Maybe there’s an intruder! Maybe its owners are dead and no one has found their bodies!!
12:45am: Or maybe there’s about to be an earthquake. What would I DO if there was an earthquake?
1:15am: Five year earthquake-recovery plan complete! Better decorate my post-tragedy mansion…
1:45am: Okay, TIME TO SLEEP! Wait, I need a beach house! OTHERWISE WHERE WILL WE HOLIDAY?
2am: I’m sailing a boat! On the lake outside my completed beach house (I guess technically it’s a LAKE house now. Does that change the décor?). Ian Somerhalder is also in the boat! Mmm, sailing.
2:15am: Wait, I hate sailing. All your clothes get all wet and chafe-y and the boom of your tiny boat hits you in the face when you lose concentra…
2:30am: WAIT, WHAT IF CHARACTER A DID Y INSTEAD OF X?! I HAVE TO WRITE THIS DOWN! Oops, I wrote this down yesterday. Also, it makes no sense. MAN I WISH I WAS ASLEEP. But I can’t sleep because Ian Somerhalder wants to picnic outside the beach house and I need an outfit to picnic in. WHAT IS APPROPRIATE ATTIRE FOR PICNICKING LAKESIDE WITH IAN SOMERHALDER?
6am: I HATE EVERYTHING.
Here is the same summary, with hard cardio applied to it:
10pm: I’m tired. Maybe I will… ZONK.
6am: YAY, A DAY! MY FAVOURITE! WHEN DOES MY ALARM GO OFF? WHEN DO I GET TO GO TO WORK? WHY DON’T IAN SOMERHALDER AND I TALK ANYMORE?
Dear Stephen King: I can’t believe I’m about to declare my love for another one of your books before I get to the end. Or, as you usually like to call it, the ‘I’m bored now. Magic trick!’-bit.
I’m listening to the audio book of Under the Dome. This is kind of a foolish book to listen to, since it’s four hundred thousand pages long, but I’m enjoying it so very much I hope it never ends! Ever! And not just because Stephen King is bound to ruin it in the last ten pages like he always does.
(Hand of freaking God my ass.)
That aside, Stevie K is amazing. He is probably my hero. I still haven’t read a lot of his horror books but when that dude is on, he is pretty much the king of everything. The dude is a master class in storytelling AND in writing: the best writing gets the fuck out of its own way. He writes SUCH solid prose, and I don’t think he gets nearly the credit he deserves for it.
I LOVE the way his worlds unfold on their own, tangling into these complicated, fantastic sprawls of ideas and images and characters that all feel like real people making bad decisions, even when there are aliens. That sense of discovery and exploration is also why he can’t end a book to save his life, but the ride is so goddamn good I can almost forgive him.
(Except for the Dark Tower books. We don’t mention the war.)
Under the Dome is Stevie K on top form — sprawling cast, rich world, so freaking readable you could chew on the pages. I’m only halfway through it, but I’m going to go WAY out on a limb and declare it better than The Stand.
Wait, what just happened?
Dear After: be mine. xo, Katie.
I don’t want to jinx it by putting it in print, but OH MY GOD YOU GUYS, AFTER IS GOING SO WELL! I AM SO EXCITED!
YESTERDAY ONE CHARACTER SAID SOMETHING TO ANOTHER AND THEN EVENTS TRANSPIRED AND OMG, OMG, OMG, IT IS ALL SO AWESOME. JUST YOU WAIT.
I am on a STREAK with this thing. It is bound to end with me face-planting in a mountain of French fries and taking to my bed for several days when I realise I’ve written myself into a corner and the only way out is to start over or have everyone discover it was all a dream, but until then I am SO VERY HAPPY.
Words! Nine months of constant work and I finally get to play with ACTUAL WORDS!
YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW EXCITING THIS IS TO ME. More exciting than sailing with pretend Ian Somerhalder. More exciting than internet-jeans. MORE EXCITING THAN YOUR MOM.
Basically, the most exciting thing ever. The peak oil of excitement.
(Except hopefully my future writing career holds more than rising sea levels and economic collapse. That would be depressing.)
And anyway, if I get really stuck, there’s always THE HAND OF GOD.