Meme-alicious: Are We Not Sheep?
So many bits and bobs I think about and don't get around to writing. RSN a brief consideration of my thoughts on first reading Alan Garner's Weirstone of Brisingamen, but that is not yet. For now, a little bit of random meme-cruft for LJ is perhaps better than nothing at all. So here's a thing I picked up from mrissa:
1. Go to page 77 (or 7) of your current ms
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines - sentences or paragraphs - and post them as they’re written. No cheating.
Sadly, I fall just a bit shy of having a page 77 so I'll try page 7 instead:
Something felt wrong in my brain: jangly, disjoint, and wrong.
Something felt wrong in the room, too. The air was too still. Late night city sounds filtered up from the street, but nearby I could only hear the sudden hammering of my own heart filling my ears. A dark premonition drew cold fingers down the nape of my neck.
Anxiously, I rolled over, reaching out for Min across the disheveled bed. He was there. My questing fingers found the warm, swelling curve of his shoulder as he lay with his back to me.
Hmm. Okay, I didn't cheat. But my blue-pencil finger is twitching: that needs cleaning up. Instead, repeat with me, "Crappy first draft," and we move on.
1. Go to page 77 (or 7) of your current ms
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines - sentences or paragraphs - and post them as they’re written. No cheating.
Sadly, I fall just a bit shy of having a page 77 so I'll try page 7 instead:
Something felt wrong in my brain: jangly, disjoint, and wrong.
Something felt wrong in the room, too. The air was too still. Late night city sounds filtered up from the street, but nearby I could only hear the sudden hammering of my own heart filling my ears. A dark premonition drew cold fingers down the nape of my neck.
Anxiously, I rolled over, reaching out for Min across the disheveled bed. He was there. My questing fingers found the warm, swelling curve of his shoulder as he lay with his back to me.
Hmm. Okay, I didn't cheat. But my blue-pencil finger is twitching: that needs cleaning up. Instead, repeat with me, "Crappy first draft," and we move on.