I saw this cartoon, and it reminded me of the aliens in my book:
Mood Status: Still in the crapper, but benefiting from the subtle warmth of the promise of Spring. (I know. First half of the sentence, gross. Second half, poetic, right?)
Writing ability status: I have a marathon writing day planned for this weekend, and Sam asked me if I was ready.
I answered by saying this: "Yes. The characters in my head have finally started talking to each other again, so I actually have stuff to write. Wooo Hooo!"
Sam says (with hesitant forced laughter): "Hehe... That's great. I'm so relieved you have voices in your head again."
me: "I know, right?"
Online Geek Gaming Status: Okay, so remember those guys who were totally out to destroy my village? Well, since I couldn’t beat them, I joined them! (It was a six day process, complete with interviews, tap-dancing, and begging; not wholly unlike the definition of “Stockholm Syndrome”.)
I don’t feel comfortable giving the name of the new alliance, since I don’t want y’all to think I’m a closet serial killer, but I will tell you the words in the name, and you can unscramble as you wish:
So, Great, huh? I’m safe now, right? You would think.
The first message the alliance sent me was: “Welcome. And BTW, we’re all under attack from IB.”
The message might as well have read: “Welcome, and I hope you’ve bought your plot and alerted your next of kin, cuz you’re gonna die, and soon.”
IB is, like, the absolute scariest alliance. The “I” stands for “Irrational”, and I can’t tell you what the “B” stands for, since we have younger readers.
So, to put it in perspective, imagine fighting tribal villages for a small piece of land in Africa, only to discover the U.S. is about to nuke all of us, and we have nothing to defend ourselves but rocks and logies.
My villagers are doomed.