Well, it's Christmas Eve, and I'm huddled into the darkest corner of our apartment, staving off the winter chill and trying to keep our 2 cats from bounding up the nearby presents and onto my desk. Neither of those efforts is going particularly well, but I don't mind. It's going to be a fun week.
After a busy month at work and a flurry of Christmas errands, I finally get a little time to myself. That means more time to write. I have 2 big projects going at the moment. One is that new novel I keep mentioning—a little stagnant but alive—and the other is a project I expect to be of novella or short novel length. The words are coming easier, now, and the new story in particular is catching fire. Maybe, like so many before, I just do better in the cold and the dark.
Speaking of the cold and the dark, I'm also finally reading The Road, a Cormac McCarthy novel that has somehow eluded me so far. I love McCarthy, particularly because his style flies in the face of anyone who believes there is one way, and one way only to write. The Road, like so many of his others, is pure storytelling. Quotation marks? Nah. Apostrophes? Sometimes. His style is a living, breathing thing, and it doesn't follow the rules. There's something wonderful about that.
If you've never read The Road or seen the movie (also excellent), it's pretty damned depressing. Enough to keep my spirits in check and make sure I don't go writing about any singing birds or happy elves, in any case. Can't have too much of a good thing, especially if this vacation is going to turn into a holiday writing sprint, the way I expect.
Anyway, I'd love to write more, but I have work to do. Merry and I wish you a happy holidays from out here in San Francisco, and for now, bid you goodnight.
So does Twilight, my writing buddy.