I didn’t know I had a lumbar, but now I’m worried about it’s survival. Apparently having a lap top makes you type in all uncomfortable crazy places and positions, then you get in a car, and GASP! – it has no lumbar support, and then your back is broken.
So, if you could – I don’t know what I need – send me some support, that’d be fantastic. Rumor has it this is a ploy to get me to shell out $50 some-odd dollars for a pillow.
It’s true, I type on the floor, a desk, at a bar, coffee shop…I thought about writing in the car, traffic was pretty bad…but what is this nonsense all about? I’m in pain! Who has time for that?
I’m trying to finish a novel here…
I think I’d rather just have a glass of wine, thanks.
A saying I like these days…in other news. Because it’s (almost) un-novel-related.
POINT THE FIRST: I just realized why I like Starbucks. And Cafe Caffeine. Whatever – um, when I ask for coffee, and do you have AMARETTO, don’t look at the manager. And when you’re the manager, don’t say “I think there is some almond crap over there.” I will punch you in the mouth. Ask the guy at Austin Java. WITH THE BRUISE ON HIS MOUTH.
POINT THE SECOND: When some one inquires to the general status of a hobby, as in “oh, you write?” or “I didn’t know you SANG…” Don’t answer “Duh. It’s kind of what I DO with my life.” Because if we don’t know that you are world famous for tap dancing or whatEVER, then you shouldn’t act surprised. That’s lame.
From the article snippy referenced: (whole thing here: gawker)
We’ve always been unimpressed with the people who trumpet their participation in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), which as far as we can tell involves telling everyone you know (usually via your blog) that you’re writing a novel in a month, woohoo, way to go you. Seriously, it’s almost as tiresome as people who think they’re all special for sprinting through five boroughs. Color us not impressed.
Okay. so maybe I have noticed that my mom is the only one still reading my blog, but hey, I won’t brag unless I finish. And I have only found one blog besides mine about this. And, you’re just bragging because gawker makes millions. I’m doing it for the little Vietnamese libraries, jerks. How many books have you written?
I’m almost done. Not with the word count, but with the story. I busted out about 6000 words in the past day and a half, and realized that that barely puts me half way to the word count goal, and I’ve pretty much told my story. How is this possible? I know that sometimes I’m blunt, but I think I’ve been doing a heck of a job describing the weather, the neighborhood, the drama…I guess the plot is flat. I thought it was going well as it came to me and got better as I wrote, secrets and deceptions just entered as if on their own. I must need more.
So, I’m going to have to either go back in there and spice things up a bit, or well, I don’t know what. Un-do contracted words? Call everyone by their full names? Give them hobbies that require a lot of description? Have them all write letters to their congressmen?
Now accepting ideas for the 20,000 words I’m going to come up short…
By the way, we leave Thursday for Las Vegas, so I need those ideas yesterday. Thanks.
We (finally) went and saw Stranger than Fiction. (I mentioned it forever ago). What a cool movie. It reminded me why I’m doing all this. Why I quit my job, why I am trying to get 50,000 words on paper in
30 like 15 days. I think like a book.
Believe me I know that I am perpetually inarticulate and surface in person. I can’t lie. But you wouldn’t exactly want to be at a bar with me and have me spouting descriptions of the soft flowing breeze that I notice drawing itself to you from the ceiling fan covered in lint that makes you wiggle your nose in a gesture you think no one notices that makes you a delight in my eyes and the ones of those around you.
I’m just saying.
So I’m an idiot in person. I don’t say or do the right things.
In a novel, I can put on whatever music I want, and make people do anything. And it can mean something. I can have things I can’t in real life. I can be thought provoking, make characters that let you know I’m more insightful than you know.
The story to the movie wasn’t what spoke to me, it was the descriptions. That’s how I think. It’s in my veins, and now it’s my job to take that, make it travel to the tips of my fingers and to the laptop I complain about and beat occasionally.
That is why I want to be a writer.
Once again, the day was spent not writing. We went to a “Hollyweird” Anniversary Party last night at a production studio, but I was still up at 8 am. Whoo me, right? Well, we decided to go get groceries and breakfast tacos (Rudy’s Rules!!!) and clean the house and watch three hours of football.
UT is on at 7 tonight and a few people might come over, so there’s even more time for me to procrastinate. I got all the way past 18,000 words last night (the condition to be able to go out) but I’m still so far behind.
I might be happy when this month is over.
*This was posted yesterday, but didn’t show up right…so I’m still unofficially posting every day like the rest of them. Really. I’m blaming it on UT.
I need a job*. Everyone that has a job, children, commitments, stress, they all have more book done than me. I don’t know what the deal is. I’m officially behind. Way behind considering that I will have limited time down the road. I have seven days before I am out of TX for the rest of the month. I don’t know what to do. My first attempt in getting some words going was to start nearer the end.
I DON’T FEEL LIKE WRITING.
I’d rather…everything. Soaps, blogs, showers, cleaning. I did not think I would procrastinate. Not on this. Surprise, surprise. My cold is gone, no excuses.
The biggest thing that I think is bothering me is that the setting for my book is in cooler weather, and we are having record heat. That’s not helping. Everything that is fun around me is not helping. November might not be the optimal book writing month after all. Grr. I’m going to go try to write now…
*Nope, not really.