fine whine

Well, I've faltered. I wrote nothing at all for my novel on Saturday, and my parents are visiting Sunday. I didn't even keep up my ideal writing pace for a week. Nothing else important happened in said week either, except maybe for some restructurings at work (leaving me effectively where I've been) and Jessica getting serious job prospects. Like I said, nothing important.

Oh, I did finish reading White noise by Don DeLillo and Gun, with occasional music by Johnathan Lethem. The former was amusing, the latter was utterly brilliant. My novel looks like a worse idea the more this month goes on...