"A simple plan: We'd be different from all the rest."
Flippancy is the poor man's wit.
Or, to quote Dorothy Parker, "Wit has truth in it; wisecracking is simply calisthenics with words." (My thanks to chris_walsh for reminding me of the latter).
We're not getting snow, though I wish we were. We're getting rain and lots of wind (gusts 40 to 50 mph).
---
Friday was spent reading back over everything that's been written thus far on The Drowning Girl. We spent hours going over the pages, and I made hundreds of red marks, catching grammatical errors, misspellings, continuity errors, clumsily repeated words, and so forth. I looked up and it was dark, and I had the odd sensation I'd not done enough work that day. Which is idiotic. After writing so much over five days, then spending hours proofreading, a writer should not feel like a bum for not doing more. Anyway, yes, polishing.
Yesterday, I sat down to make all the edits I marked on Friday, but after about forty pages, I lost all patience. Spooky finished for me, mostly, the things she could do on her own. A lot of my editing marks are hard to read, or vague, or indecisive, so she couldn't attend to them all. I sat in the front parlor reading: Hellboy: The Crooked Man & Others and Hellboy: The Wild Hunt.
Tomorrow, I'll begin Chapter Three. Supposedly, today is a day off.
---
The words are a highway, leading from here to there, and it's almost a bearable thing, so long as I don't remind myself that there is Death.
Or, to quote Dorothy Parker, "Wit has truth in it; wisecracking is simply calisthenics with words." (My thanks to chris_walsh for reminding me of the latter).
We're not getting snow, though I wish we were. We're getting rain and lots of wind (gusts 40 to 50 mph).
---
Friday was spent reading back over everything that's been written thus far on The Drowning Girl. We spent hours going over the pages, and I made hundreds of red marks, catching grammatical errors, misspellings, continuity errors, clumsily repeated words, and so forth. I looked up and it was dark, and I had the odd sensation I'd not done enough work that day. Which is idiotic. After writing so much over five days, then spending hours proofreading, a writer should not feel like a bum for not doing more. Anyway, yes, polishing.
Yesterday, I sat down to make all the edits I marked on Friday, but after about forty pages, I lost all patience. Spooky finished for me, mostly, the things she could do on her own. A lot of my editing marks are hard to read, or vague, or indecisive, so she couldn't attend to them all. I sat in the front parlor reading: Hellboy: The Crooked Man & Others and Hellboy: The Wild Hunt.
Tomorrow, I'll begin Chapter Three. Supposedly, today is a day off.
---
The words are a highway, leading from here to there, and it's almost a bearable thing, so long as I don't remind myself that there is Death.