We begin

My mind goes to a strange place when I begin imagining a new story.

I embark upon JUSTINE.

I push away from the shore and see where the winds take me.

I have a map on board somewhere here. And a compass.

I'll consult them eventually.

I use the minutes when I'm falling asleep to see the story. This is a rich time for imagining, of course, but I don't remember it all.
Good stuff, lost.
Maybe it shows up someday in the writing. I hope so anyway.

In my dreams, I'm keeping a blog. I see the words on the screen. I edit. I write. And there's a story I'm working on in my dream.
So weird.

In something approaching IRL . . .

I'm making the jump from my beloved old computer to a new one. These are two identical machines, so it's like some schizophrenic alter ego that looks the same but doesn't have the defaults set right.

I have a newer version of Internet Explorer.
It annoys me.

Next on the agenda is to move everything from the old machine over to the new machine.
It is as if I were Robinson Crusoe unloading the wreck of the ship before it is finally washed away, salvaging one more barrel of nails. Rescuing one shovel, one coil of rope.

I put this dreadful day off till I was finished with Forbidden.

The old machine -- four or five years old now -- became more and more unreliable. I'd be typing away and some keys would stop working. Sometimes the A and the Z would become inert. Sometimes the shift key. Sometimes the M. One never knew.

So exciting.

And the whole shebang turned off at random intervals, taking all my work down with it.

Like the copyedits I was dealing with
under deadline.

These things are sent to try us.

So now I must get the new machine up to speed
and do the galleys.
And the kitchen floor . . . . . . must eventually be washed.

And I'm starting on JUSTINE.