I just finished reading Contact by Carl Sagan solely at the gym. It was a bit of a headache (literally) to read on the elliptical, but I feel like a champ for multitasking in this way—exercising body and mind simultaneously. A fellow gym-goer commented that he’d never seen anyone go that fast on the elliptical while reading before. That’s how determined (crazy) I am. And Sagan was great. As far as novels go it a) wasn’t really anything like the movie b) kind of rambled on ala Les Misérables or Dune, and tended to be a bit overwritten, but the ending was worth it. I think I said “Whoa,” or something else very Bill-and-Ted-esque.

I’m thinking about reading Plato’s Republic next, but I’m kind of craving something lighter. Contemplating complexity while bobbing up and down and sweating is tough on my eyeballs and my brain.

I haven’t looked at my novel in a week. We’re not speaking to each other for a while. Is it weird that I found myself wondering how my characters were doing in my absence? That I kind of missed them? That maybe I have a crush on one of my characters and found myself wondering if I was his type?

Ah. I’ve said too much.

Still, I felt like we needed some space. I’ve got some after-hours work stuff that’s demanded most of my time this week, I’m aching to finish editing A Scribble in the Margins, and I promised my son I’d read the 600-page novel he wrote. (Way to go, Jaed!)

I wish you all a happy and productive week. I’ve missed your comments on my blog, so feel free to leave something to let me know you were here.