Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen

Moose Girl Dream Dance, Hurrah!

One thing last year's Year Of Sick seems to have given me is the ability to nap. I could never really nap before unless I was sick. Now I can if I need it. For example, the alarm went off at 4:45 this morning so we could get markgritter to the airport. I got up (@#%&$%#$) and took him to the airport and read lj and went and got breakfast with timprov when Perkins opened. (And let me state for the record that "when Perkins opened" is not a phrase that should have any meaning, because what good is Perkins if they don't stay open all night? It's not like you go there for the food. Imagine the horror that would have been my college years if we'd had to spend our 2:00 a.m. Perkins runs at Happy Chef instead. Even if we would have pressed the button.) And then I hung out with T. until he went to bed, and then I worked a little bit on easy revision stuff, and then I read a bit, and finally I went back to bed! And slept! And now I feel better! And not so much like someone dumped toxic waste in my shoulders! And more capable of abusing the exclamation point!

In my nap-dreams, dichroic was starting to write a book with elk in, so I was telling her what it's like to write books with elk in. (The answer, in case you're wondering: very hard. The books I've written with elk in are much harder than the ones that left the elk out. My advice from this experience: skip the elk whenever possible.) (On the other hand, it was nice to have someone with whom I could be "The Moose Girls.") Also in my nap-dreams, papersky was telling me that she'd seen my books last time she'd been in China, she just hadn't picked up copies because she didn't know me at the time and also she doesn't read Chinese. I started trying to argue with her that I don't have any books* out in English, much less Chinese, but she was able to describe details of the plots as summarized for her by her Chinese friends, so I had to conclude that my books were indeed out in Chinese. Then I got a check from my Chinese publisher, and dichroic and I did a Moose Girl Dance over to the bank to cash it, with papersky walking alongside us holding the dog's leash and shouting, "Hurrah!" at appropriate intervals. (What is a Moose Girl Dance like? Very stompy. Somewhat noisy. Upsetting to the dog. But the dog liked papersky and would behave for her, so that worked out all right.)

This is why Heathah's husband tells me not to tell people my dreams, but in truth I'd rather have my brain than someone else's.

And I need to remember that when I get back to non-trivial revision bits, but first I need lunch.

Oh, and I know which story I'm writing longhand in my new paper journal now! "Carter Hall Judges the Lines." It's the one for you, wilfulcait. It will be fun. There is peewee hockey, and there are Greek goddesses, and I'm excited to be writing it. And it's good to be excited about what you're writing at least some of the time.

*Edited to add: I should note, before markgritter reads it and starts the old argument up again, that he would have me say I don't have any novels out in English. Because I do have books out. Every time we do this, I argue that work-for-hire doesn't count, and every time he says it's a book and I wrote it and they put my name on it and published it and gave me money, not vice versa, and therefore it counts. Take whichever side you please.
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened