I SHOULD be writing, but I'm not.

I won't even talk about my total NANO word count today because it's not good.

It's 10.23 am Sunday morning and I'm on the net. Gathering information. Churning ideas in my head. This whole writing without a plot thing is not doing it for me. So I'm looking for catalysts, triggers...anything.

Yesterday, I made the mistake of going to the shops and hovering in the book department (and DVD department - but the TV hasn't been fixed yet so that's not such an issue). And I bought a Christmas present for Robbie's little sister (and if you reading this Traciee, you'll just have to wait until early December to get it) and I bought a Red Dress Ink book for me, The Funeral Planner.

Like I don't have anything else to read.

And guess what, I read it! Yesterday. I only meant to read the first chapter but I kept reading. And I think there was a reason for it. I had to read it, to relate what happened in that book to what's going on for me.

My last post I mentioned Hold the Anchovies, my Nano work for 2003. And I had to open the Word file to find out how many words I'd written. And once that file was open, I started reading. Hold the Anchovies is a barely fictionalised account of my first job, delivering pizzas. No pizza company names to be mentioned here. I had an affair with the boss. And it's all there, plus some interesting character embellishments of pizza customers to add humour. I was sucked back into it. It's pretty bloody good, although nowhere near complete. But if I ever publish it, I think I'm going to have to do The Bride Stripped Bare thing, and do it anonymously. (Mind you, didn't that create a lot of sales for Nicki Gemmell). I don't want to be sued.

Here is a short sample of Hold the Anchovies:

‘The usual for Cynthia,’ Suzy, the phone girl, shouted across the bustle of the pizza shop.

The usual. Now what would that be? I slapped out the dough and tried NOT to think about Cynthia’s usual. 13 Brown St’s usual was a triple pepperoni with double sauce and double cheese. 25 Sullivan St was a Supreme with half olives. Big Barry’s was a beef, olives and anchovies! Uggh! The only thing I knew for certain about Cynthia’s usual was to Hold the Anchovies!

I threw the pizza down on the tray and poured on the sauce, making circular motions from the middle with the ladle, spreading the red mixture evenly, leaving a symmetrical edge all the way around. My hand hovered over the cheese. What would Cynthia say if I left the cheese off? There were other weirdoes out there who ordered pizza with no cheese. But where was the fun in that? I grabbed a handful of mozzarella and spread it over the pizza.

I decided to let my subconscious make the pizza and closed my eyes as I placed my hand over the row of ingredients. Pepperoni -- yes. I opened my eyes between ingredients to make sure I was hitting the pizza base -- but arranged the ingredients haphazardly -- making sure the pattern had some distinction. I didn’t want to hear her say my life in the upcoming months was going to be boring and routine. Capsicum – the green strands making criss-cross patterns across the discs of pepperoni. Onion. Spicy pork and pineapple. Another handful of cheese and Alex stuck her in the oven, smiling at me.

‘I wonder what Madame Cynthia will say about this fine creation.'

I smiled back, melting into the floor.

‘You know, you just made the Alex special?’ He nodded back at the oven. And winked.

‘I laughed. Well, I made it with my eyes closed so it wasn’t intentional.’

‘Shame that. I thought you were trying to tell me something.’

Was he flirting? He turned back to the oven to retrieve the pizzas that were ready to be delivered. Slid the spatula in one quick motion, piled it into the box, and cut the pizza into quarters, and then eighths perfectly, avoiding any accusation of diet slices. I watched his tanned arms and his perfect butt. Boy, was he cute!

Dork is allowed to read, I'm NOT! No more reading for me now, till the end of Nano.