I am writing. Except not right now, cuz I'm blogging.
I am in my new local coffee shop (I moved in January) and some kind of folky folk folk music is playing. I have cinnamon tea and a mediocre scone. (Why are the baked goods mediocre in every place that lets you plug in???)
Some hot new books that just came out: Heist Society by Ally Carter and Scarlett Fever by Maureen Johnson. One is art theft! International intrigue! Romance! The other is theatrical! New Yorky! Hilarious!
Okay, enough exclamation points. But if you're looking for something deeply fun to read, you should start with those.
I am reading The Basic Eight by Daniel Handler aka Lemony Snicket. It is fantastico so far. I don't know why it isn't a YA novel but maybe something deeply disturbing is going to happen soon? Hopefully, actually. I can't wait to see what Handler really BRINGS when writing for an adult audience. He is such a great speaker -- I've seen him talk once at a conference and once at the National Book Awards. I met him, too, briefly. I felt like a giant immense dork. He was nice but very reserved. I imagine when you have such a startling and outlandish speaking persona, it is very difficult to make small talk at the same event where you've just spoken.
What else?
Nothing, really. I am at that stage of writing a book where you don't have momentum and you will do anything to avoid working on it. Yes, I will make chili! Yes, I will shovel the sidewalk for an hour! Yes, I will clean the kitchen! Yes, I will even sew on buttons.
It is a bit desperate.
