I'm still having a go at that romance novel. I'm deliberately writing it very, very badly, because if I try to do it well, I'll never get it down. Usually when I write, I spend lots of time holding a pen and hardly any moving it, because I do all the editing in my head so what I write down is almost the final draft, give or take a little polishing. But apparently with romance I have to write the way my teachers always wanted me to.
I thought it was ridiculous that they always demanded a rough draft and the final copy. I always ended up copying the "rough draft" in pencil after I finished the real paper, because I knew I couldn't get the whole second copy written down legibly within the time limit. But this is not about the many ways the Alabama public school system failed me. This is about my hair.
Why did I cut my hair so short? Now I'll never be a Gibson girl!
Yeah, so the novel is set in 1909. It is also not a fantasy, nor is it about Snow White. It is...about another possibly recognizable character, but if blatant H
ouse fanfic can be published (in which Doctor McGrumpycane says, as early as page 14, "Everyone lies!" as he diagnoses a priest with fatal syphilis) then by god, so too can my fic just barely disguise itself with pretty dresses. Which I am currently researching. Along with hairstyles. Which brings me back to my previous point.
I will never be a Gibson girl!
But I have learned to do a nice pompadour. All I need is a friend with long hair that I can practice on.
...
I think it will be faster to wait for my hair to grow.