Because it's more interesting than reality.

My life these days is fairly dull. Apparently a local paper finally ran a review of my book, which is good, though I haven't seen it yet. ETA: No, that's what you get for listening to other people. It was just the Eagle running the press release I finally convinced Williams to put out. And in the next week or so, I have a radio interview, which should be interesting if a) my phone manages not to crap out, and b) I manage not to sound like an idiot. Still, both are PR, which is something my book is sorely lacking, so I should be pleased. And even am, a bit. But other than that, life continues in its not-interesting-enough-to-be-a-feature-film way, and so I thought I'd take a cue from 2h2o and share with you a snippet from my dream last night:

There were assassins trying to kill me, and the nondescript person with me. We had somehow killed one, and I was feeling pretty proud of myself, until the person with me reminded me that there were probably more. Then we ran and dodged through the snow and behind trees, and when I knocked a gun from the hand of one assassin, I gave it to my accomplice. Instead, I picked up darts that were randomly stuck in the snow, and threw them at the assassins.

Even in my dreams, my aim sucks. While I managed to kill one or two from far away, in a standoff with an assassin 30 feet from me, I threw two darts and completely missed with both. She threw one at me and missed. I threw another one at her and missed. She threw one at me and hit me in the chest, but it didn't really hurt, so I plucked it out and threw it at her again, and missed.


Around this time, I woke up and was half an hour late for work.