I dreamt last night that I visited my childhood bookself – I mean bookshelf. Wow. That’s was a weird typo.

I haven’t done any writing since the middle of December. That’s a really long time for me. It’s not atypical, I guess. Every year I seem to have a period where I stop for a while. Usually after a particularly fertile period. I remember being so motivated and full of energy in December, but now, all my thoughts are gone. I can’t remember what changes I wanted to make to the script I want to work on. Inertia has come and pressed its sticky thumb down on my brain. What to work on…? Funny, how at one time it was obvious to me what to work on and if anything I had too many ideas, but now they have all gone. But I am at least beginning again to follow the time honored formula for success:
butt + chair = writing .

I want to follow the dream thread from a moment ago. It had been my desire for a year or two now (since I left Barnes & Noble) to open my own bookstore. And in the best tradition of catering to the market, I’d call it Required Reading and stock mostly children’s and young adult books from middle and high school students required reading lists. We’d have stacks of Salinger and Aristotle and Shakespeare and Cisneros and Hesiod. Maybe not Hesiod. Anyway, with low overhead, it could be do-able and profitable. Especially around here with all the many private schools and obsessions the local parents have with education. We’d carry some other books as well, mostly young adult and those books popular with the kids. Maybe a little place to hang out. A small newsstand… Ah… Fun.