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The Ancient Lake
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I did write a story on Sunday, called "A Lake of Spaces." The assignment from Heather was to write a story in present tense that takes place entirely underwater. (The title is from a Yeats poem: "Hell is the place of those who have denied; / They find there what they planted and what dug. / A Lake of Spaces, and a Wood of Nothing, / And wander there and drift, and never cease / Wailing for substance.") I think it turned out well. Once I found a good reason to keep my protagonist underwater for 3,000 words, it practically wrote itself.

I'm still not quite over my sick. I wanted to go to the gym tonight -- Heather's been really good, working out most days -- but I still have a cough, and breathing deeply and exerting myself make the cough worse, so cardio is kind of out. Soon, soon.

Otherwise, not much going on. We're watching assorted good television on DVD -- season 3 of Alias (which is really uneven, but still has enough good moments to keep us watching), and the most recent season of The Sopranos, which is awesome, of course.

This weekend? Party. My editor is going to be in town and we'll be at the same shindig. I can't wait! I haven't seen her in ages, and it's always great to hang out with her. Whee! So I'd better be feeling better by then. I can't drink my way into to the wee hours of the morning efficiently if I'm sick, y'all.

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