I just finished reading G.R.R. Martin's A Clash of Kings.  It's interesting how completely unsympathetic I am toward all of the characters.  They're all well-written, morally complex and show consistency in their flaws and strengths, but I don't care about any of them.  I admire the conspiracies and scheming that Martin creates through them, but it's a bit like watching a chess game; I'm more interested in what the pieces do than the pieces themselves. 

The only character thus far in this series that I loved was Eddard Stark (even though I mistakenly thought his name was Neddard up until Kings; my brain confuses me sometimes) and of course he's not present after the first book except as flashbacks and bones wired together.  On one hand, I'm unaffected by the rising body count once the initial shock of "Holy shit, he's actually killing off important characters and not bringing them back through deus ex machina!" wears off.  On the other hand, I'm really detached from the entire story.  I'm interested on an intellectual level (who's double-dealing who this time?) and on a technical level (25 different POVs?  The man's a master juggler), but I'm not enthralled.

The other major issue for me is the prose.  It's boring.  Sure, it's competent and does what it needs to, but it also feels stolid and dull.  There is no sense of nuance and craft in his word choice, and it takes away from the reading experience.

I'm finally over the flu. Didn't do a damn thing in terms of writing, which is frustrating but not particularly surprising. I'm a procrastinator through and through. So, I've got a plan, a schedule of sorts to push me into writing daily and upping the wordcount every week. I'm starting slow, a mere 50 words a day. Each Friday, 50 words will be added, with an eventual goal of 1K words a day. Still not a hefty amount, but it adds up rather quickly. That and NaNo always kills me, so the thought of reaching 2K or even 1500 words makes me laugh in disbelief and then start crying.