A few days ago I finally finished John Steinbeck's East of Eden. It was a pretty massive book - not in page numbers, counting at just over 600, it's length being comparable to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows which I read in approximately three days, or Breaking Dawn which I read in under a week. This book, however, I've taken over five months to read. So it's 'massiveness', so to speak, is due to it's quantity and just overwhelming amount of content. It starts in the late 1700, tells of Adam's father and his time in the civil war, then of Adam growing up and being in another war, then of Cathy growing up, then of the Hamilton family: of course, all these people meet and two small baby boys come out of it, and then we watch them grow up, but that's not until over half way. As I was reading this book, I constantly thought to myself "I wonder why Steinbeck put this in?", and now, looking back, I can totally appreciate the fact that when writing a novel, you can put anything in it; the more you put in it, the better a novel it is. I'm thinking this now, as questions are being shone at my future and I'm wondering which paths to take, and I see that being a novelist is a pretty easy, almost cop-out route to take now, everything considered, so it's looking pretty alluring to me.
Speaking of alluring, I'm ill. My throat likes to burn when I'm horizontal. It's not fun. And the boy that lies in my bed and drinks my tea has this issue too. He also thinks I'm writing him a love poem right now. What a let down this will be!
Final thought: If a relationship is a meal - be it, your favourite meal at the moment - then sex is the dessert. It becomes apparent that many people like to binge on desserts, and ignore the rest of the meal (metaphorically and not), so what is it that makes relationship sex better than this 'binge' sex?
I'll have to have a few more full-course meals to answer that one !