they must need bears

Our Heroine: Okay, Brain! It's time to write a novel!
Our Heroine's Brain: You have got to be kidding me.
OH: Nope! Let's get cracking! Deadline is looming!
OHB: You realize my last day off was March 9th?
OH: The deadline waits for no brain!
OHB: You realize that I have written an average of 2,194.176 words a day for you every day since March 9th?
OH: So? There's still one hundred eighty pages of book we need to write. And today is that scene in Engineering, where you get to introduce what's-her-name.
OHB: So, I have needs, you stupid selfish neocortex. And besides, you can't make me. I'm on strike.
OH: Just one little sentence?
OHB: Not on your life. Wheedling won't work. I'm taking the day off. This is not negotiable.
OH: ...
OHB: We are, you know, on schedule. Even a little ahead.
OH: ...
OHB: And you are a scary obsessive personality who needs to lighten up.
OH: You're only just noticing that now? Besides, most of that is your fault.
OHB: Besides, you have to run errands this afternoon. And then you have a dinner date. So as soon as you got started you would have to quit and go do something else.
OH: ...well, I guess we could do laundry. We really need to do laundry.
OHB: See? You have been working on the novel so much that you don't even have clean socks. Also, you need to go to the post office and the bank.
OH: Well...
OHB: Yes?
OH: ...what if we take the day off, and try again after dinner?
OHB: ...I'll think about it.

Don Imus is an asshole.*

And I support his right to be an asshole.

I also exercise my right not to listen to the bigoted turdbrain, so everybody's happy.

The whole point of freedom of speech, if you ask me, is because it makes it easier to spot the assholes on the horizon.

---

*But I've got to wonder: he's been an asshole for years. Why are we only just noticing now?

I wrote around 1200 words early this morning, resurrecting the dead pages. One scene came out better, I think, and the other one worse than their dead cousins, but it's a draft so that doesn't matter. I turned off all the lights and watched the snow falling and the night turned strawberry colored and wrote about the end of the world.

Yes, talking to tech support is a good way to trigger insomnia.

Also, while I was working, I was helping a certain somebody with Las Vegas factoids, as she's apparently been inspired by my bizarre fanfiction breakout to write a sequel to the piece. Which is quite good, so far, and is apparently where the plot I didn't manage to put in my bit went.

So my fanfiction is spawning... fanfiction. How exceedingly too meta for words. I plan to demand cowriter credit, even though she's doing all the real work. I'm just providing Not-Very-Random-In-Fact-Careful-Calculated Las Vegas Spree Killing Factoids and writing occasional blocks of exposition and poker.

(Not saying who, yet, because I'm not sure how she wants to be identified. *g* But she writes really good supergenius hypochondria.

See what happens when pro writers go bad? It's like... cascading failures. Pretty soon there will be room for a whole new crop of SFF writers, because all the current ones will be off writing Smeagol/Gollum or Clark/Supes and giggling between their fingers.)

In any case, watch this space for further developments.

Anyway, it was good, because it means I get up this morning and can start from where I would have started anyway. And if it's on two hours of sleep, well, it's not the first time.

Today I will sit here at my desk and I will write the rest of Chapter 26. And then I will write Chapter 27. And then I will be done with the draft. Either today or tomorrow or Wednesday.

Expect more random blogging at the high water marks.

Now I need to write another damned transition. But first I'm going to wash my hair and find something to eat, since I've been ravenous since I got off the phone with tech support last night at 1:30 in the morning and that was seven hours ago now.

Whups, gotta run. The telephone is circular metal banding.