December 7, 2009 -- 10:20 p.m.
Listened to Writing Excuses again before going to bed. Which, as we all know, triggers the weirdest dreams...
In this case, I spent most of the time watching my grandfather run over suicide bombers who jumped on the road, mowing them all down with his truck. It didn't make a lot of sense, but at least I got to eat Tikka Masala after we went to a banquet thrown in the terrorists' honor (with Indian food?).
Anyway, there I met Brandon Sanderson, who was holding a book signing in a treehouse. Which he should totally do because IT WOULD BE AWESOME. I climbed up there and managed to convince him to read the first five pages of my novel, only I couldn't find my new drafts. I think I ended up re-writing the first five pages from scratch.
When I came down from my hotel room the next morning, Sanderson was literally furious, sweat pouring down his face, pacing back and forth, stomping around. He told me I should never show this to anyone again because it was so horrible, the worst thing ever written in a variety of ways, and I was punishing people by forcing them to read it. THEN he accused me of breaking into his office and plagiarizing parts of the Towers of Midnight... (because it was horrible if I wrote it, but if he wrote it, it was a masterpiece :) )
I woke up, then. Strangest thing was, I woke up feeling happy despite the soul-shredding critique because I'm like "Brandon Sanderson read my work! Awesome!!!!!"
Poor Brandon. He has to play the weirdest roles in my dreams. When I was a Storm Leader, it was nice because almost all the other Storm Leaders had weird dreams about him/Robert Jordan books too. So I may be strange, but at least I'm not the only one.
Other people dream about movie stars. I dream about fantasy authors. Golly, Virgia, I think I'm a nerd.
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