The Night Was Dark
It’s Monday morning and I’m sitting on my couch, listening to old INXS songs on youtube. Writing this, instead of working on the Space Marine: Pew! Pew! Pew! manuscript, because Monday is one of the days when I can get away with that. I should probably go make coffee. Or go collect coffee from the cafe on the far side of the train tracks, if there’s enough spare change in my change-jar to justify that kind of expenditure. I’m trying to stay chill because, lo, I watched a bunch of movies this weekend, and so many of them had characters who are writers, and that is the stuff of rage. Movies give us an endless parades of characters who agonize about writers block and disappear on book tours and live with an absolute conviction that what they do is the most important shit in the world. “It’s not important,” the none writer characters will say. “It’s just a book.” “It’s
