Last week I had drinks with the brother and sister book editor (sister) and Colbert Report writer (brother) who had attended my Godzilla lecture. They had been encouraging me to develop it into a book or some other type of thing.
The get together was not momentous; I wasn't being offered a book deal or anything. Just a little chat about the current state of books and a bit of a writer's pep talk over a few beers (or water, in my case). Apparently the cute-in-that-incredibly-enticing-nerd-girl-with-those-glasses-you-know-the-ones-way editor gives people she feels are good writers this little shove in the right direction... once. Though she did say she'd prod me again in 6 months, which made me feel special.
However, now I'm left with the rather dangerous thought that I'm a good writer. I've never really thought about it too much; I've always felt I was far too prone to using run-on sentences, semi-colons and ellipses to really consider myself anything more than a hack. Yet here was this obviously-smarter-than-me-about-books person telling me that, no, I actually am a decent writer.
Well, at any rate, it'd be a nice creative option to fall back on when I completely stop exercising or taking care of my physical health in any way, shape or form.
Which starts... oh, 2 years ago.
I guess I should start writing.