What I'm working on

Three novels. One nonfiction book. Three graphic novels (including one ongoing piece). At least six short stories.

That's off the top of my head. I'm sure I'll come up with more when I decide to go back through my journals.

So, I guess I better get going.

I'm going to sign up for this "how-to" graphic novel program that's touring in and around Seattle. It's making a stop at my local library, so, there you go. Ought to be quite interesting, since I can't draw a stick figure. Whatever. Got ideas all over the place. At the very least, I'm hoping to take away the knowledge on how to write a graphic novel script and/or know how to talk to my future artists about what I want to get across.

Ugh. Getting sick of work draining all my energy. Worn out. Don't want to write, even though I feel better for it afterward. Keep moving, Marine. Started a Pilates program and my stomach and sides feel as if someone's been beating me with a baseball bat. Hurts to breathe if I inhale for anything longer than a five count, stinging for the sweet release of the long merciful exhale. The pain fades, and I imagine this is what it's like to die...as the pain receptors die off and the brain begins it's long, slow fade out. Probably feels like a gentle caress by unknown hands when it happens. Unless it's preceded by a grand mal seizure or a major coronary, of course.

Body Count: Over 200. Some forward motion has been achieved.

Useless note: It's been 22 hours since I last played "The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker." Mark of improvement.

Today's Word: Hill

From One Word.

I grew up in the flat Midwest. The closest we ever got to elevated plains came one of two ways: on-ramps from the nearby interstate and when the town snow plow would streak by at 3 a.m., sculpting an instant mound of packed white snow. The street turned into a canyon, walls on either side to climb and sled down.