Roller-skating sharks. Make a note.
I think I'll mosey on down to Copperfield's today. For some reason, I feel like patronizing my local independent bookstore.

Also: Is there something in the water? The writing bug is chewing on my brain again, in that peculiarly insistent taking-up-all-excess-head-space way, where pieces of the story seem to get behind my eyes and throb whenever I'm doing something that I don't need all of my brain for. The only way to relieve the pressure is, of course, to write the pieces down.

"Rare Birds" has been rattling around in my head since 2003, where it began life as a NaNoWriMo project. It's changed quite a bit since then, but remains a pretty general all-purpose fantasy quest/coming-of-age story. However, as far as a point of origin is required, I blame The Firebringer Trilogy by Meredith Ann Pierce. I love the idea of a book about warrior unicorns (with extra gryphon and wyvern and dragon sprinkles!), but in actual execution it makes me want to jump up and down and tear at my hair, for reasons too numerous to list (again, anyway).

They're not terrible books, but they did make me want to write a story about gryphons, dragons and unicorns that are a little less... well, human. Anthropomorphization is all fine and good, but there's an important distinction between "animals with just enough human traits to make a better story" (Watership Down, The Wild Road) and "humans who happen to be shaped like animals" (Guardians of Ga'Hoole, Silverwing/Sunwing/Firewing, Warriors). HELPFUL HINT: if you're writing a tale about hoofed animals and a plot element requires them to hold tools in their forelimbs, consider significant plot overhaul. Jonathan Swift is allowed to get away with this, because the Houyhnhnms are just that awesome. NO ONE ELSE. So I was noodling about with my word processor one day, and ended up writing a short little piece about an intelligent-but-nonhuman female gryphon who makes the perfectly rational decision to kill her own cub to save herself and her mate... and that turned into the prologue for "Rare Birds", which sort of went off in its own direction from there.

It's also the distinct ancestor to "Villains" (Stran the werewolf, the Dread Sorcerer Ryan, et al.: remember those guys?), and contains a few of the same plot elements, although used differently: violent acts perpetrated against unicorns, terrible things happen to a pet wolf, a character who is only pretending to be able to talk to animals, Our Dragons Are Different, and so on. (No zombie bats, however. Fortunately.)

Not only is it Highly Unpublishable, it's also Woefully Juvenile and Hideously Derivative. With that said: would anyone be interested in reading it? I mean, if I'm going to plink, I might as well plink. And, by far, my most successful NaNoWriMo novel yet was "Villains", which was posted publicly, chapter by chapter, as I wrote it. Instant feedback is a beautiful thing. On the other hand, if there's no interest, I'll continue to keep it to myself without complaint. I realize I write the way sharks rollerskate. :>

Note to self: A roller-skating shark would be awesome. Probably not if it was a skate, though. That would just be confusing.

I made a fennel & goat cheese quiche on Saturday that was delicious. I really should make quiche more often. I'd forgotten how easy it was, even with homemade pie crust.

Once I manage to tear myself away from reading cleolinda's Secret Life of Dolls, I will consider such things as "food" and "books" and "waking up selasphorus so we can Do Stuff" (Tag's in there with her, and he exudes Sleep Pheromones or something: it is impossible to get out of bed/ off the Napping Couch once he curls up on your legs. For more reasons than merely "he's heavy". Truth!).