I’m still, you know, chugging away. Having trouble writing the hero. The heroine is in full bloom, but the hero…I’m overthinking him. I think that must be it. Last night I told my dad that I was having trouble getting into the hero’s head, and his reply was, “Well, shoot his head off.”
That is very good advice, actually.
The band KISS is on the news, in full costume and makeup, talking about how much they love what they do after 35 years. As they just said, they answer to no one and march to the beat of their own crazy, otherworldly, drummer. When I was little, they reminded me of aliens. Wild, guitar toting, metal-clad, aliens. I still feel like that, but now I love it (instead of feeling just a little scared). Of course, this made me think of a blog post written by NK Jemisin on science fiction in black music.
It’s a pretty morning.
