It's a beautiful day and I have a lot of writing to do.
Minardi is shedding all over the place and putting my new dust buster through its paces. He's not sleeping on my bed anymore so that's keeping that room cleaner, but he still hounds me all the times for treats. I've never seen such a one-track mind. He pays me attention when I have, or will get, food for him, but has determined that I'm good for little else. Whatever happened to that "I wish I was the person my dog thinks I am" stuff?
I've remembered that I've been looking for Jim Carroll's "People Who Died" song for about twenty years now. Checked a couple places but no luck :( I'll probably forget I'm looking about it again before I find it.
It amazes me that I can do so much writing without telling a story. I think the only thing I'm doing now is perparing something for the editing phase. Then again, if no interesting story develops, I won't even want to edit it. I'm reminded of writing rule #1: If it doesn't interest the author, it won't interest the reader.
Yikes!
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3 comments:
man... i was thinking about that just yesterday. i was writing this long-ass scene with all these detailed descriptions of rocks and things and i just got so frigging bored and all i could think was: if *i* think this is boring, i feel really sorry for whoever has to read it.
i'm starting to dispair of this story becoming anything but an excercise in word count. :(
that's right, you live with a dog too. mine was banished from my bedroom by my allergist years ago. poor pup.
"an exercise in wordcount" -- boy, that's perfect. I just finished a chapter where they're staking out a laundry to catch a clothes thief. Thing is, I know they won't catch him...and it does nothing for the story. It's just practicing writing!
I like to call it the world's longest timed writing exercise.
It just ends up being one long stream of consciousness version of some idea you had for a novel.
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