I've spent half an hour playing around on Toasted Cheese's site instead of writing in here. I am a bad, bad, blog writer. I also have typoitis today, apparently. My rate of typos is up about seventy-five percent. Possibly more. I don't chart these things, but it's a lot worse than usual. I blame squirrels.
As usual, I'm working in Kubuntu in the not-quite-as-warm-as-usual study, with my classical music stream streaming along in VLC. I decided on a whim to reduce the opacity of my text editor window so I can see my desktop through it, so it looks like I'm typing over top of a beautiful Caribbean beach. "Look!" say the tourists behind the camera, "there are words floating in the air, being typed with a plethora of typos which are then being backspaced over and corrected, before my very eyes! Hey, mysterious typer in the sky, you got some typo issues, don't'cha?"
Yeah, we covered that already. But I suppose you were too busy ordering your girly drink to have noticed the beginning of this document, eh?
Clearly, I am in some kind of odd mood today. But this is my privilege, as I am a writer, and weird-ass moods are where we get some of our best stuff.
As I was perusing Toasted Cheese, I recalled Jasper Fforde's series of books about the Bookworld. I've touted the Bookworld in other journals I've kept online before, but let me do so here: go read these books. Begin with "An Eyre Affair" and move onward from there. Ever wonder what the characters in your favourite stories do when they're not being read? I didn't think so. Read. You'll find out. Fforde's stories are hilarious and brilliant. Anyone who loves to read should grab them up straight away. Go! Go to your local library and seize them!
Ahem. See aforementioned odd mood. Yeah. This is probably the least professional-looking blog I've done in here since deciding to dedicated myself to writing about writing (almost) every day.
I mentioned the Bookworld novels because Toasted Cheese had for sale a tote bag emblazoned with the words 'Boojum Hunter'. The word 'boojum', in Fforde's novels, refers to a jurisfiction agent (read the books) who gets lost in a previously unexplored novel. It's used as a verb in the Bookworld, but, having not read the books in a while, I had the thought that there was a something called a boojum which attacked bookpeople. I don't think this is true, and if you go read the books, you'll be able to tell me if I'm wrong!
Anyway, my apologies for taking time from your day to be random at you. But this, too, is an aspect of my writing life: the 'what the heck /is/ this, really?' bit where ideas float around in the air near my head like twisted, broken little dragonflies, each whispering fragments of coherent thoughts which are lost in the incessant twittering of the mass of them. May your dragonflies fly in formation today.