On the Postprandial Nap

It's easy to overdo it. For dinner I fixed the honey bourbon beef brisket from the Atlanta store; it was already cooked and sliced, all I had to do was thaw and heat the beef and the sauce. Mo and I ate until we were groggy, then went to sleep on the sofa and just now woke up.

A nap after dinner really is a good idea, because when you wake up, all you want to do is go back to sleep, which I aim to do in a few minutes.

Tomorrow is book club meeting at the library. I spent part of today reading a 20-page excerpt from The Story of Edgar Sawtelle that I found on the internet. I may have to buy a copy of that book, because I want to read the whole thing again. The excerpt was from the early part of the book, and in it, Gar (Edgar's father) stepped out of his truck into the sunlight and seemed to Trudy to shimmer in the light--as his ghost much later shimmers to Edgar in the rain.

The book I'm reading right now is Imperium by Robert Harris, a fictional biography of Cicero by his slave/companion Tiro.

In a way, reading such excellent books discourages me from writing, because I know I can't measure up to top-notch literature. Edgar Sawtelle was Wroblewski's first novel. He was writing what he knew (dogs) on a preset plot (the plot of Hamlet). So why can't we all do that? Maybe because we all don't know anything as well as the best writers know their subjects.

At any rate, I'm going to try again--that is, write another November novel this year. Just three weeks away.

When I woke up this evening, I had a book sale--the first in exactly three weeks. Made five bucks!