(no subject)
Realization: I have a lot of writing to do and very little time to get it done. And next weekend gets to be spent driving back to Michigan from Raleigh, and since I don't like my dad driving my car, that means I'll be stuck with whatever I can get out at wherever we stop on Saturday night (if we stop, which my mother might insist on).
Pseudo-hiatus from my RPG - check.
Notebook, pens - check.
Well-stocked supply of caffeinated stuff - check.
Percolating ideas - check.
Alcohol - easily procured as necessary (especially in Michigan, where my parents keep it unhidden and unlocked).
The knowledge that I can do this - ...that's debatable. But I'm pretending pretty well.
Time to lock and load, accept that all first drafts are shit, and write like I'm getting paid for it.
NB (mostly for you, Meggy): any dorking around of mine on AIM in which I can't prove that I've been writing should be met with a smack and the command, "Write, bitch, write." (Or whatever your version of it was, Tony. That one's okay too, if less snappy.)
Pseudo-hiatus from my RPG - check.
Notebook, pens - check.
Well-stocked supply of caffeinated stuff - check.
Percolating ideas - check.
Alcohol - easily procured as necessary (especially in Michigan, where my parents keep it unhidden and unlocked).
The knowledge that I can do this - ...that's debatable. But I'm pretending pretty well.
Time to lock and load, accept that all first drafts are shit, and write like I'm getting paid for it.
NB (mostly for you, Meggy): any dorking around of mine on AIM in which I can't prove that I've been writing should be met with a smack and the command, "Write, bitch, write." (Or whatever your version of it was, Tony. That one's okay too, if less snappy.)