A couple of weeks ago, I was looking at the new YA books in my local library. Vampire, vampire, vampire. Vampire schools. Vampire this. Vampire that.
I didn't even take them off the shelf. I used to enjoy the occasional vampire book, but, come on, publishers. This is getting ridiculous.
Then by way of Oz and Ends I learned of Pinocchio: Vampire Slayer. In a graphic novel, no less.
Perhaps that's the will to read vampire fiction that I feel stirring within me.
Training Report: Two segments for the 365 Story Project, and not much planned for the rest of the week. Then I decided to work on this essay I started last week. Or the week before. And while going through my Word files, I found that I had done six pages on this topic...I don't know. Last year, maybe? How mortifying! How lame is that?
Except, Zen suggests that instead of being horrified at my ineptitude, I should be grateful. Hey, I had a much better start on this thing than I thought, and did some more on it today. So, yeah. Om. Grateful.