A pot roast of ill-repute

So, I was talking to my stepdad last night and somehow or other the phrase "a pot roast of ill-repute" fell into the conversation.

And suddenly, suddenly I knew what I am supposed to do with my entire life...Or, at least, a few months of my life...at some point in the future...

Okay, so maybe it wasn't that big of an epiphany. But still, it was fun to have inspiration strike. (Does inspiration strike? If not "strike," what is the correct verb to describe what inspiration does?" Okay, seriously, anyone who just said "inspire" hold still. I'll be along shortly to kick you in the shins).

Because here's my new plan: I'm going to write a book (or maybe a story) called "A Pot Roast of Ill-Repute." Seriously. Awesome, right? I kind of adore it.

And here's how I know the stars are aligning in favor of this plan: I recently rediscovered the disk upon which I managed to save all of the writing I did in college. Some of it is appalling...namely, any ventures of a poetic persuasion. I dare not call them actual poetry for fear that I shall be struck deaf, dumb, and blind by Calliope for my impertinence. (Because this blog is called Not Hein, I won't burden you with a sample of my work. Let's just say that a sonnet about flan was, sadly, not the worst idea I ever had in this arena).

BUT, some of it is not half bad. Some of it I had forgotten all about. Among these, I found this silly novel I wrote about three paragraphs of. It's kind of Wodehousian, but I could probably mangle it into something more original. And, dear reader, and AND...the first person protagonist--whose name, poor thing, I believe was intented to be Sanderley--is absolutely the kind of person who would be befallen by adventures of an ill-reputed pot roast nature.

Now, I have no intention of abandoning my current project for Sanderley and his pot roast. Not only is my current project far more evolved than is Sanderley, but it is also a rather exciting venture in its own right. But I, myself, am thrilled to be reminded that I am neither a one-hit wonder nor a one-trick pony. That even if I have chosen to write one book (or, ambitiously, a series of books) that might qualify as fantasy, that doesn't mean that, assuming I manage to get the thing published, I am doomed forever to the obscurity of the SciFi/Fantasy section of your local Barnes & Noble, my books destined only to be perused by the hopelessly dorky on their way to the Manga section. (K...that was meaner than I meant it to be. There are lots of semi-normal people who read SciFi. I number myself among them. Manga, though? Not in my experience).

And, even though I am pretty stoked about my current project, as hair-pullingly frustrating as it usually is, I like the idea of having other things to work on when I need a break, rather than just submerging myself in an endless glut of Prison Break. (sigh...Wentworth Miller...). AND to have a title? A title that I love, that I find inspiring? Unheard of.

Seriously, though, I'm almost as bad at titles as I am at poetry. (Emphasis on the almost. Nothing, nothing of my creation is quite as putrescent as my poetry). Seriously, in high school I wrote this story...obvious L.M. Montgomery knock-off, as most of work back then was...that I believe I burdened with the truly amazing title of "A Girl, A Prince, and a Town Called Lochanor". Ugh. I shudder. I'm sitting here at a little table in Panera, shuddering. ( That might be because the air conditioning is always too high in here. But it's the only place in town with free wireless where my clothes aren't infiltrated by the clinging aroma stale coffee).

So, to have a ready-made title? Thrilling.

In conclusion, to this, my first blog post I enclose what I believe will be a tradition in these posts as they continue: Today's list of things that are Not Hein.

~roommates who set up a blog for you for your birthday and then remind you, gently, that it exists solely for your use

~books with titles like "Sanderley and a Pot Roast of Ill-Repute"

~stepdads who use phrases like "a pot roast of ill-repute"

~Sigur Ros...who I am totally going to see in concert tomorrow---yay!

~michael scofield...even if i should spend more time writing and less time being all girly and aflutter over his dreamy blue eyes and the appalling hotness of his brooding. and his scheming. and his shouting. and his very, very, very occasional joking. especially since he is, in fact, fictional. but seriously...tune into prison break season 4. it's as good as season 1, if slightly less appropriate to the name.

~the office season 5 premiere. i was giggling out loud in a crowded panera and didn't even mind.

~also, as ever, cake. an objective good, if ever there was one.

And with that parting thought, I'm off. Maybe to write. Maybe to watch some Prison Break. But almost certainly to get myself some cake.