Mystery

May 4

Ahhh. My last afternoon at work for a whole month. It's 3:45, and I'm basically done with everything. I'll probably slip out of here in another half hour or so, after I take care of some last-minute things and kill a few minutes chatting with you.

I'm still reading Irrational Fears. It's good-- it's no Zod Wallop, but it's good. Spencer loves his Lovecraftian stuff... I'm glad he stayed away from it in Zod, though.

Did you know it's okay to say "mofo" on television? At least, I assume it's okay-- I heard it, and it wasn't a documentary about abbreviated profanity or anything. I wonder if you can say "muhfuh"?

I'm going to dub The Chronic and take it with me on the plane. I'm going to sing "Nothin' but a g thang" at 8:30 in the morning. That'll help wake up my fellow passengers. It's a long flight, too-- straight from San Jose to Washington, D.C. Then it's just a little puddle-jump down to Greensboro. This'll be, like, the ninth airplane I've ever been on. It's only the third plane trip I've ever made. Flying fascinates me. It also scares me, a little-- I did the last leg of my trip to Arkansas last year on a plane with propellors, and I was one terrified boy. I don't hyperventilate or go catatonic or anything, but I never forget that I'm thousands of miles in the air. A lot of people on airplanes act like they're on a bus. It's not a bus. It's very different.

Sometimes it helps me to imagine that I'm on a bus.

There's a lot of under-the-floorboards subconscious work happening on Rangergirl. Occasionally these weird images drift up, and I know they go in the book somewhere (they go in the first draft, anyway), but I don't know where. Writing novels is such a strange process for me. I can always see the shape behind the veil, but the details are often very fuzzy, and sometimes the shape is much larger than I had first assumed. One of my favorite parts of the process is watching the shapes attain solidity.

I'm very visual when I'm figuring out a story-- I see the scenes, the characters. Sometimes I see them so clearly that I don't remember to put it all down on paper, and fully convey it to readers. I think a lack of a sense of place a lack of attention to detail are real weaknesses in my work. I'm working on it. Rangergirl should be better. You'll be able to smell the leather and patchouli in that book, feel the gritty hardpan dust in your hair and taste the mocha chai on your lips. It's such a California book, so much about my sense of this place where I've moved, my eyes opening to it. But it should work more universally-- it should, ideally, resonate with anyone who has a place that they love-- flaws and all-- and want to see protected.

I like frogs. Toads, too. They're symbolically lovely, but I think Freud misunderstood. I think he missed the point. Frogs and toads are very potent in fairy tales, and it's a toss-up as to whether they're monstrous or magical.

Which is okay. Because what I think toads and frogs are about is secrets. Moist dark places, where there are strange sounds.

Hmm. And they're dissected in biology classes everywhere. Dissecting the mystery. Hmm. In high school I wrote a very bad poem about bisecting angles and dissecting angels. I still think it's a potent idea-- dealing with the misguided desire to understand and analyze mystery-- but I haven't written much about it lately. Maybe I should. I don't think that's what Rangergirl is about, though. Maybe another book.

Okay. I can leave in fifteen minutes. I think I'll post this, and finish work, and go home, and hang out with Heather, and let loveliness ensue. Good weekend to you, dear ones.