I was reminded of this fantastic song ('I turn on the tap but the water's too loud') by Squeeze while listening to David Lasserson's version for jazz viola (click listen now, then scoot to 8.58 on this link if you can get it). And then, with magical synchronicity, I woke up with a bastard of a hangover this morning.  Only I hadn't been drinking.

Cue Twilight Zone theme.

I know it sounds weird, but I've been writing about 3,000 words a day for the past week.  Which, for the non-word-count-literate among us, is a whole lot of words. And in case you think I'm gloating, I'm not. It's just that it's such a relief, after dragging the last book out kicking and screaming over two long years.

The new book is flying. And it keeps zigging and zagging in ways that surprise me.

It's got almost no plan.  I didn't even know what it was going to be about until I wrote the first sentence. It doesn't have a title.

And I still don't know exactly what it's about.  But it's telling me. Getting stranger and darker as it emerges.

Strong stuff.

The hangover?  I swear it's from too much writing -- too much throughness. Keeping that conduit open is hard on the brain.

Gotta be that. There's no tequila left in the house.