As to Zelazny's Amber I am pretty sure part of my like of it was that I had an audiobook version read by Zelazny. Just one of the books in the middle. The way he read it made it so damn cool. But I have now read the first 5 or 6 books and become disillusioned. Somehow it didn't keep its "promises".

Just read the Anubis Gate by Tim Powers and thought it extremely good. Don't know how I didn't know of him. Going to read more by him. Time travel and a very detailed early 19th century England with plenty more, Byron and Coleridge and Egyptian gods and gypsies. Really good.

Started Beloved. The characters are so damn good compared to fantasy fiction. But I've seen the movie a couple times and it seems to follow very closely...

I wrote while I wasn't being athletic because of my broken toe and basically stopped once it was better and I was back to tennis a few times a week. Why? Not laziness. Just so disillusioned with my stories. They aren't very good. Feel like I need to start over but I haven't somehow started.

Also I finally got a piano again after 15 years. Just about memorized moonlight sonata so far which I had previously only been able to sight read. But memorizing is so much more enjoyable. And some other things. First page of Bach's famous toccata and fugue. Fur Elise. I really missed it. Could just happily play and play with no time left for other things. The internet changes things. I can tune it myself now thanks to amazon and youtube. I can easily find good free sheet music and immediately hear a recording of anything. Would have made things very different back in 1988.

But starting to feel unhappy that I'm not writing. Wondering if I should try to salvage what I was working on. Or just totally go back to the drawing board while trying things a bit different. Thinking to make the lead more heroic, more "Gary Stu". Avoiding any mentions of ever having been a child. And writing more linear with a bit less outlining. Ending up with a ton of junk that needed extreme editing actually really lost my interest, finally.

I haven't written anything in the last week. I was away to Seattle for "work". I did read Thomas Disch, The Genociders, which is about how earth is turned into a one crop garden while other life is exterminated. Tad bit depressing. And Frank Herbert's The Heaven Makers which wasn't as depressing as the MC was very intelligent and sort of prevailed. About how immortal aliens are behind the scenes controlling our behaviors in order to make movies.

And now 1/3 into Zelazny's ten volume Amber. Which I had read a part of before. There is something about it I liked before. It has a certain feel. But also I listened to a part of an audio version where Zelazny was reading it and it really made it better. I vaguely recall being in New Mexico at the time. But maybe I wasn't. I don't know. Something though about it like while at the same time something about it don't such that I hadn't already read the whole thing despite being a voracious reader of fantasy for many decades. Too much intrigue /mystery where the motives seem largely pointless. (To rule Amber). And I ask myself, would I be happy to have written this? And the answer is no. But over and over such is the case. All the best writing I find myself thinking this. I wouldn't have bothered and that's probably why I haven't bothered. And I think perhaps it's a sort of nihilism about life. So much of the stuff of life I can't get into. And so I don't write.

But Song of Solomon. That was a book that I would have been pretty happy to write. I can't at the moment think of anything else really. Some short stories. Death of Dr. Island. Chun the Unavoidable. But that's different.

So I have to think more about this. Read more Morrison. More magical realism.

I don't know perhaps I would have pretty happy to write most of the first two Fitz trilogies.

Played really good tennis today. Using only an australian grip. Including hitting a lot of non-dominant hand forehands. Two hours of doubles. The worst player was a retired lady who used to play pro. Played Goolagong. And I hit a non-dominant one hand forehand. And two hand backhand. A one hand backhand slice. A one hand backhand drive. And hit it all OK. The left hand forehand needs work. Hit with the former pro exclusively left handed for 20 minutes afterward.

In Seattle there was a grand piano that I played a lot. Synthesizers are just not the same. I am going to buy a piano. Haven't had one in more than a decade. Want to get back to being able to have prelude in c sharp minor by Rach memorized and others. I miss memorizing music. Weirdly I wasn't good at that with the cello. But as it's almost always just one note at a time, it's so much easier to sight read. But memorized music is so much more enjoyable and I'm sorry but the piano is more enjoyable.

Wrote about 20,000 words in a bit less than two months for two stories. Half will need deleted. And the going is a bit slow because I'm just not sure what I'm really doing. Feel like it's too dark. And also going through the motions somewhat. And probably too worried about middle ages authenticity.
Thinking about starting another story where I really try to make it even less dark. Though I feel like it has less and less to do with me as I make it less dark. I feel the life I have experienced has made it almost impossible to write.

Have been reading Book of the Long Sun by Wolfe. Ian Mortimer's 14th century england. Murakami Men without Women. And Morrison's Song of Solomon. The last being the stand out. So good it made me wonder what the heck I was really writing myself. Murakami was very depressing. Long Sun is good. I think gods and magic really need to go together.