Have any of you ever noticed how certain decisions that seem to make sense to the people making them really make no sense for the people who actually have to carry them out? Yeah. That's the vague statement of the day, but really.

I'm fighting this strong urge to write in the style of "The Mists of Avalon," which I'm almost finished reading for the second time. I'm usually more of a character development type of girl myself, but books that are nothing but plot can be so darn good. It's total brain candy, a 900-page retelling of the Arthur legend in a feminist cast -- and I seriously doubt that an author relying on language and style to hold a reader's interest could pull of 900 pages. Can you imagine if "To the Lighthouse" was that long? Or used phrases like "go thither my lord," or used the same adjective three or four times in a single sentence (as in "on the icy cold evening, she put her icy hands in her cloak to protect her raven hair from the icy wind")? You'd go insane. But in the right context the storyline itself is so strong you don't even notice. I wish I was in my nice decision-less bed reading it right now... some realm whither no mortal makes decisions but thine own self alone...