I didn’t watch the Oscars last night, though apparently the rest of Twitter did. I enjoy these enormous tweetalongs, even when I’m not actively taking part. There’s something reassuring about so many people enjoying the same thing, having fun together. All those people. I like to look at the pictures of what people were wearing the next day, so I’m not entirely immune from the event.
A good weekend. I stayed in, as did most of the city, I think. I started a short fantasy story – the Women Destroy Fantasy call will open in a couple of weeks – and finished reading the Anne Whitehead book on memory. It was…well, it was a typical academic book. I don’t like it all that much when an academic writer does the ‘I will show that’ trick at the start of a chapter or the end. It doesn’t strike me as being a particularly creative way of posing questions or answering them, though it is a fairly accepted way of introducing a subject in a paper. Maybe it’s because I’m not reading these books for an assignment – I want them to read more like creative non-fiction? Maybe.
Time to settle in for my morning writing. The workmen are just outside the door, putting up another wall for the renovations (we are taking the side of the building off, and in another wing, the roof). They assure me they won’t wall me into the office. Here’s hoping.