Not giving up on the novel, but I’m going to do something different.  Going to go buy a couple 100-sheet legal pads.  Start writing one.  Once it’s filled, I’ll somehow blend it into the novel  So, I’m probably going to wind up with more than 201 pages.  Do they have legal pads at the drug store on the next block over?  Two blocks actually, I think.  Sipping a Diet Coke.  Was going to spring for mocha2, but wasn’t in the mood.  Strange for me, not wanting a mocha.  [Anything out of character, great for writing.]  Cleared off my desk, a little.  No clutter.  Adding to this newly-forced freedom.

Outside, beautiful.  Should go for a little drive.  Maybe take some pictures(?).  But I’m so comfortable in this quiet, just writing.  Could bring this laptop, do some more car writing.  Or get that 2nd mocha, capture some characters.  Went through the titanic plastic container of old writings, and its satellite mini-container also housing wasted efforts.  You know what, I should just throw it all into the novel.  Just to finish the novel.  Maybe it won’t get picked up.  Who cares.  It’ll be done.  I’ll have completed a book-length piece of “Literature.” Made me sick, actually, seeing how much I’ve written over the years, done nothing with.  This novel, THE different turn.  The question I continue to pose to Self, “Where do these pages go?”, stems from a random reach into that box.  I remember, one day just reaching in, picking out a page.  Started reciting it, religiously.  So, where will all those pages go, or most of them?  Into this novel.

No stimuli in here, in this Room.  Too comfortable.  Nothing worth writing.  That fact I’m writing about nothing being writing-worthy is hardly worth writing.  But I did?  Why?  To take up word count, naturally.  Not sure how much penmanship that provides the page.  Wonder what my wine’s doing right now, how its structure’s molding and remolding itself.  What will sit on palate, once poured from a bottle (after sufficient aging in bottle, not to worry).  Just had an idea, to write at the coffee shop on Farmers.  Always busy, always full of characters.  This novel, hopefully shows what my characters wants, what he doesn’t know he needs.  Among other things.

2/3/12, Friday