Carb-based Life Form

FICTION. Well, except to the extent that it isn’t.

Potato Head – Couch Potato : )

However you cut it, however you cook it, however you season it, I love a potato. The potato is my favorite ingredient in any casserole, stew or spelling bee. You say “potato,” and so do I!

In fact, I love potatoes so much that I fail to see the shame in being one. I know that “couch potato” is supposed to be a pejorative, but come on. Comfort food, comfortable viewer: sounds like a win-win situation to me. Couch potato: cool as a couch cucumber. (A more discouraging word might’ve made a world of difference. Think of what I might have achieved by now to avoid being called a couch cabbage, or a sofa sprout.)

In other words, no, I can’t really report any novel progress (or bike riding, or potato eating, for that matter) this past week. I did revise a lot of short stories, and try to figure out where to send each of them. So in that way I was quite productive. But only in that way.

judging book covers by their victims

I didn’t read nearly enough fantasy and science fiction back when I was impressionable and consequently have no appreciation whatsoever for these genres’ most embarrassing book covers. I went for the Nancy Drews and Agatha Christies instead. So now I can’t help but feel kindly disposed to cheesy paintings of intrepid girl detectives who’ve been chloroformed and imprisoned in cellars, or cheery cartoon drawings of knives protruding from the backs of corpses in picturesque British villages — even if that isn’t what I’m interested in reading. But so many of the books I would be interested in have been chloroformed and imprisoned in the most villainous SF covers. Will our heroine find them in time?