I wrote 805 words yesterday. Yay for me! I wrote no words today, however. Boo for me!

The rest of the day Monday didn't turn out as planned, though. No trip to the comics store, and no trip today to the library. Instead, I worked so that I could spend Tuesday driving to San Francisco, arguing a motion, and driving home again. Lots of miles on Snowball (yes, I've named my car, and I've named it a trite cat name; my cat, on the other hand, is named after a Shakespearean queen), lots of billable hours, and no time to write.

Oddly, though, I found time to read. I've started Snowdrops by A.D. Miller, one of the nominees for the Booker Prize this year. The narrator is a very unappealing man, making this the second book I've started in two weeks with unappealing men as narrators (the other is Cemetery Girl by David Bell). Is this a trend I'd previously missed? It's not that they're unreliable narrators, though that may turn out to be the case; it's that they have voices I just don't like listening to. Yet I keep reading. I'll have to figure this one out.