So, I've decided to write a novel.

Actually, it wasn't quite like that, as I really never thought that I was ever going to write a novel--whenever it crossed my mind, I never could think of a plot or anything, and besides, writing personal narrative every fucking day for six years (or almost every day, alright? Get out of my ass!) really made it so that I am no longer capable of making stuff up, I can only regurgitate actually occurrences.

Especially since making stuff up was never exactly my forte to begin with.

But I do tell myself little stories all the time, just to keep myself entertained, little what ifs, like what if I got a Broadway play or what if I met Henry Rollins on an airplane and he fell madly in love with me on sight or something, and sometimes stories that don't have anything to do with wishful thinking, just little musings about how the world might be different if this or that occurred, and then what would happen?

Well, I was thinking about us Callahans and semi-Callahans, this family unit of Fran and Cynthia, their children Katie, Molly and Bonnie, Cynthia's ex-husband and Katie's father Jon, and their friend me, about how the family dynamics are so interesting and what would happen if something changed, how would they settle?

And then I realized that it was a novel. And that I really would have to write it.

When I got home last night, I blurted it out to Cynthia and Fran, who asked what it was about, and I stopped, because I realized that it was too embarrassing to say. I told them that I didn't want to tell them, and Fran said that they would certainly read it, and I said that that wouldn't be for years yet until it's done, so there was plenty of time to tell them.

Because it's really hard to look your best friend in the eye and tell her, "I was thinking about what the family would be like if you died," because then you quickly have to follow up with, "It's not like I'm hoping you'll die! No really! Hey wait, come back!" and then I'm out on the street looking for a new apartment.

"So,what am I like in the book?"
"Well, I kill you off in the second chapter."
"You kill me?"
"No, I mean yes, I mean you die, but my character in the book doesn't kill you, it's an accident!"
"You mean that you kill me accidentally?"
"No, no, this has all gone horribly wrong!"

This is definitely not about wish fulfillment, it's just something I thought of, and I want to see how far I can take it. We're an interesting group, we Callahans and semi-Callahans, and I think that it might make a good book. And even if it doesn't, I think I could really use the discipline of writing something longer than six paragraphs or less on a daily (okay, almost) daily basis.

Now I just need to go out and get the perfect notebook. Because who can write anything without getting new stationery, not me!

Horoscope d'aujourd'hui:
You feel the pull between a new, challenging project and tying up the loose ends on some old responsibilities. Make a compromise.

il y a un an aujourd'hui:
Anne made me a swell mix-cd with all kinds of great songs on it, and Tracing gave me bugger-all, punishing me, I suppose, for the fact that I gave her her birthday present five months late.

* Hier / Incrément / Ce Mois / Demain *

La poste

Graphiques de Saundra la multilingue!
Traduction français par ma mère Gladys Holland.

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Dernier mis à jour Dimanche 2 Septembre 19:44:09 2001