A Writer's Notebook, Day Seven-Hundred-And-Seventy-Two

I'm back in my office tonight, which makes me quite happy.  It would have been fine to be stuck out of here last night, if I had been warned that was going to happen, but I was not prepared at all, so I hadn't gotten any of the things I needed from this room.  I am writing a story and I didn't have any copy of it except on the computer (I am in the process of backing files up as we speak, and I do have copies of most of my work, just not the current version of that story).  As well, I am reading Susanna Clarke's new novel Piranesi and was rather eager to return to it.  I am still near the beginning, but it is a strange and beautiful book, and I am not yet certain what game it is playing, which I quite enjoy.  I am certain I will have more to say on it when I have read it through.  In a strange way, I am rather glad I was kept away from that book for the night, and from the office, by extension, as it had been some time since I felt that sense of wanting to get back to a book when one cannot.  I have great freedom to read when I wish to, and so I do not often feel that way, and to be gifted that again, to be reminded of the power of a book through its absence, that is an important thing to keep in mind, I believe, a feeling that helps to remind me of some aspects of a books potential and power.

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