I am working on my latest novel, Monsters at Arawa Station. (The one that is actually most likely going to be a novella, unfortunately.)
The kid, who like all of us lately, is overly-stressed and agitated, due to Everything, is ripping one piece of Kleenex after another to bits. I am attempting to restrain my desire to tell her to cut this the fuck out.
The kid: But what happened at the end of Oakley Day?
(Oakley Day being a story I wrote two or three years ago that almost sold to several places but never quite did.)
Me: The hero got recruited for a job with the one percent. And takes it, so that she can infiltrate and start the revolution from the top down.
The kid: Everything you write is about the Revolution.
Me: I don't know why this always surprises you.
The kid: Velocity's not. Velocity isn't about the Revolution.
Me: Of course it is. Velocity quit the Core because she couldn't stand living on the blood of slaves. And also --
The kid: But now she's just a pirate. And --
Me: And also the end of her arc is how she joins the Revolution. I just haven't written that bit yet.
The kid: (Sighs. Rolls her eyes. Rips up another Kleenex.) Well, Monsters isn't about the Revolution. It's about cute monsters.
The kid: Oh you're not serious.
Me: Cute monster revolutionaries!
The kid: Jeez, Mom!
Less droll notes: Monday my brother was found dead. Wednesday as I was driving to the kid's high school orientation, I got hit by a tailgater ($4500 + damage to the car my father had loaned us, which at least the other guy's insurance is making no trouble over covering). Monday at dawn my kid starts high school; Monday evening I fly out for the funeral. Tuesday Dr. Skull has training for a job he has -- finally! -- gotten. Wednesday I fly home. Thursday I start the fall semester, three days late. Intermixed with all of this: visits to insurance agents and body shops, doctors and pharmacies and the high school (twice), a notary and a fast trip to the mall, hunting funeral attire.
Why, this is life, nor are we out of it.
3 hours ago