The new novel

So, I'm doing the apocalyptic thing in my next novel, rather than raining down mass destruction on humanity (or those closest to me). I probably need to get it out of my system. I'm going for a multiple perspective narrative, which is really challenging me. I tend to slow down production when I'm challenged (my wife refers to this as being fucktarded), so I've got to be vigilant. I'm going to shoot for ten pages a day, although I'll probably settle for 1500 words.

I've got to do something while I wait for word from Penguin! I'm going crazy.

I've been thinking about the quality of my work, and writing in general. I took a look back at my first few short stories. Blecchh! It's true that the best cure for mediocre writing is more and more writing. My work now is much more fluid. I have learned to read it aloud in my editing. Totally helpful. My writing group, The South Sound Algonquins–pretentious?–has been a great source of inspiration, too.

Excuse the stream of consciousness blather but…has Dean Koontz been fucking a muse? I just finished listening to Odd Thomas on CD and damn if that character isn't fleshed out and fatty. Loved it!

Anyway, it's snowing in the Northwest. You know what that means: paranoia, dry roads and school closures. People around here freak when the first ice crystal drifts from the sky. There's probably a half inch. I haven't checked, but I'm certain the government has collapsed.