OK, first off, I did work on Magellan's Witch today. Finished up my fix and got going into chapter 4, which is sort of OK at this point, but needs lots of work. Words rarely, if ever, trip lightly off my fingers. Mostly I need to spend my time herding cats into some semblance of order (wherein, by the way, it's meant that the reader should substitute the word "cats" with the word "words" in order to get the full flavor of the writing portion of my day.

Saw Stranger Than Fiction today. Writers should see this movie. Dustin Hoffman is wonderful as the literature professor -- see how many literary allusions you get -- and Emma Thompson fabulous as the blocked and suicidal author. Queen Latifa was great, gosh she has presence. And Will Farrell grew on me after a bit, too. Go see it. Good movie.

And, lastly, I just got done reading an author's blog (won't say who) in which she seems to be complaining about the poor and unworthy books that are pushing literary fiction to the margins. Uhm, excuse me? Well, yes, I note a very fine irony here. We untalented and unworthy authors of genre fiction (and yes, the digs were got in about romance) sigh over the ways in which literary fiction is privileged in terms of worthiness and wish we had advanced even as far as Sci Fi or mystery in the worthiness race, let alone literature. And here all this time what's really happening is we're pushing literary fiction to the fringes. Oppressing the auteurs and keeping them from vast readership and prints runs greater than 10,000.

Babe, if your genre is on the fringes, it's not the fault of some other genre. People like to read good stories. Get a rep for telling a good story and people will read it, even if gasp! it's literary. Or not. There's room for us all, so stop whining.

I am now ready for the sleeping portion of my day. Night. Whatever.