Anyway, I just finished Cinder by Marissa Meyer, and I really, really loved it. I know it's one of those things - that "Cinderella Story" thing - but I think I'm a sucker for that, which is probably why I loved it so much. But it was a nice change after reading City of Bones by Cassandra Clare, not that that wasn't a fun book too, but it wasn't as well written as Cinder. The crappy thing about this most recent book is that there won't be a sequel until 2013. Trust me, even though it says "cyborg" in the summary, it's worth a read. It's fun, sad, romantic, etc.
Anyway, I hit writer's block and cleaned the crap out of the basement. One of the kids had shoved a bunch of toys/garbage/dishes under the futon I sleep on, so gutted it, sorted everything, and moved the furniture around. It really looks like a bedroom now. I set up the futon so that we can put it up when the boys want to play video games, and I can put it back down when I want to sleep. Billy Collins said it, though. Cleaning really does get the writing juices flowing. I've been feeling inspired now for about an hour. Woot.
I think listening to books is as important as reading them for me. Sometimes my internal voice gets so jumbled up with my vision of a story that I can't think in words anymore, so when I try to write, I can see the story but I can't put it into words. I'm not sure that makes any sense, but I know what I mean, and I'm the only one that reads these posts anyway.
I know I should sleep, but I really don't actually want to, and I'm not sure if I should. I'm afraid that if I do, I'll lose all these words that are piling up inside of me. I really don't want to go to church tomorrow either, and if I sleep, then it'll be morning and I'll have to go...
Anyway, enough.
Let me make one promise though. I will never write about robots. There are only a few people in the whole flipping world that can pull that off without making me want to vomit. Marissa, let me just say, you are one of them. Thanks for the story.
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