Positively chilly today. It’s 18 degrees, cloudy, and rain (if not thunderstorms) are predicted. [Literally, as I publish this post, the rain arrives… Beautiful!]
I could sense it was coming. Yesterday I could not wake up. And I mean: I. Could. Not. Wake. Up…
I think it was some deep physiological response to the changing weather. After weeks of being hot, sweating, and generally struggling to get comfortable, I felt too relaxed. The cooler weather seemed to spark whatever part of me is made from the DNA of the brown bear or hedgehog. I started to prepare for hibernation, suddenly attracted to caves and deep piles of leaves.
I also took the day off and watched two films which really need explaining in a longer blog post (maybe this week). I think I needed the rest, which is why, today, I plan more of the same. I’m also looking for a book that’s perfect for this kind of lazy Sunday. Nothing too heavy but in the right zone. I looked at a Don Winslow but I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a 200,000 word epic about the drug war. I remember reading The Power of the Dog years ago and thinking it one of the best books I’d ever read. There are two sequels (The Cartel and The Border) and I have both but I’m not sure how much of Dog I’ll be expected to remember…
I have some non-fiction but that’s too close to work. I’ll end up reading about politics or Trump’s crimes and I’m in no mood for either.
I could read a Robert Crais but I’ve been ODing on them recently.
I just picked Thomas Harris’s Hannibal Rising from the shelf. It’s the only book of his I haven’t read but I always put it down for the same reason. The idea of Harris writing about Nazis is too close to my worst nightmares. He can be disturbingly dark writing when he’s only writing about the modern day.
Then I have various books about writing. I have Chuck Wendig’s Damn Fine Story which I might read. The itch that drives me to distraction is always writing long fiction. I used to do it constantly and, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned, the very first book I had accepted by a real publisher was a comedy novel based in the world of politics. One of these days I’ll go back and get back to my first love… One of these days.