^pause for chocolate^
The mint chocolate candle is more seductive than I antcipated. It has been devastating for the holiday bowl of Kisses in the kitchen and a warm counterweight to the cloudy cold front that is settling overhead. I am tempted to spend the entire afternoon curled on the couch under blankets and dogs and read the three novels that are tagging after me this week.
I could turn on the tree lights and drift into the company of trolls, fairies, and the PIs who keep them on the straight and narrow.
This I will do; first, however, I'd like to share some thoughts on a video that I watched yesterday. I've been following A. Lee Martinez's blog since this year's Apollocon and he recently posted a video introduction to his lastest novel. When I clicked the link, I anticipated a semi-slick book trailer. Instead, he'd uploaded a 9 minute introduction to his work and his book that consisted of his just talking to the mike, against a white wall.
Instead of a cute reminder of a book that I'd enjoyed, there was a video that reminded me that books are just as handmade as anything I'd recently seen at the Renaissance Festival; that they could grow in the same places, the same rooms, as those I remembered from being a kid. It's hard to explain how the two connect--they cross on a bridge that consists of what I remember of being an imaginative child daydreaming in my own white-walled room and what I can see of an author telling the story of telling the story without the kind of ad-type visual shortcuts that I find easy to dismiss.
To have a few minutes to appreciate and think about the craft of writing, when the rules and how-to books are silent, is a welcome break in a season of looking for those tiny moments of awe. And what better way to prolong the moment than by returning to the couch and the stack of novels?