I just broke 20K in my NaNo novel. All my neuroses are coming out on the written page. It’s like therapy, only forced.

MC and werewolf: Still no nookie. Who knew I was such a prude?

Now what happens?

New Interior World.

I know, it sounds like a furniture store, but no. After thirty odd years of having my dream landscapes distinctly coastal, last night I dreamed of a big old wooden house somewhere where there are mountans and marshes. There was a lake nearby because at one point I was in a speedboat on it.

I was in a big rambling house, which I seemed to own, for a writing festival. Or something. Maybe I just knew it really well, because I totally knew where all the closets and light switches were. I’m not sure, because my family was there, and it might have been their house instead. (I was an aunt to some children who were other races than white, and I was enlisted to make their beds for them). I also was training a large, wolf-like dog to become socialised with the other dogs in the house. There was this amazing shower that you got to through a closet, and it had a screen door looking out on the front yard of the house. Many people were showing up for the conference. One of them was a mentally retarded teenaged boy. For some reason, I was happiest of all to meet him.

I blame the fact that many of the bloggers I read have gone to academic conferences this weekend. That and I wrote almost 5,000 words on my NaNo story yesterday. And I ate cheese before bed.

I will be eating cheese before bed again tonight, and (I hope) writing another 5,000 words. I want to go back to that house!

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