You guessed it.
I want to thank all of you for your kind comments on my Natty Bumppo post - I generally try (and don't do a very good job) to answer all the comments I get, but there's a difference between saying "hey, thank you, I worked hard on that!" when someone says "I really liked that part with Eames' dong," and trying to answer someone saying "I'm glad your child is alive and healthy and sitting at your kitchen table trying to stuff dried cranberries into your mouth and saying "NOOOHH" and demanding his train and throwing his train on the floor and shoving his beloved owl's sodden beak into your mouth while making kiss-kiss noises." and I need a little rest from bursting into grateful tears at how kind and lovely people are.
What I mean is: thank you, internet people. I don't really know a lot of you as well as I would like, but this community of fantastic, supportive, amazing people who care about each other is exactly what I would expect from assembling of a committee of people who are compelled to have detailed conversations about Eames' dong with strangers.
Also, SPEAKING OF, I am channeling all of my emotional energy (that is, the emotional energy not used in trying to fight off an Owl's amorous advances) into VIKINGS and I am...somewhere. I have done you the great favor of trying to put down a chronology of story writing stages below:
I'm not doing this.
Okay, I AM doing this, but only a little.
IT IS ON.
I AM A GENIUS
UH OH
NESTING BOXES
I HATE EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING, GDI
handjobs (this goes on for a while.)
this might have been a bad idea
I AM NOT A GENIUS
wait a minute, what about....no. NOPE.
I don't care anymore, I just want it to be over.
THIS IS WHY WE DON'T TALK ABOUT STORIES IN PUBLIC
the only way out is through.
Didn't I already write this scene? No? It is a garbled pile of mispelled half-sentences that read like something out of a peyote overdose?*
THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH <---I am here right now.
*AN ACTUAL EXCERPT FROM A CRUCIAL PIVOTAL SCENE: "aif that’s, your hands, then that’s he swallows." ....what? YEAH. This is what I'm working with.
Oh, here, have this picture of Eames nobly suffering that I have to look at every ten minutes while breathing deeply in order to carry on.
I want to say that this is the last time I will talk about this story until it is DONE, but I think we all know that, much like Arthur, who tells himself he doesn't care what a slave thinks, I don't really mean it.
What I mean is: thank you, internet people. I don't really know a lot of you as well as I would like, but this community of fantastic, supportive, amazing people who care about each other is exactly what I would expect from assembling of a committee of people who are compelled to have detailed conversations about Eames' dong with strangers.
Also, SPEAKING OF, I am channeling all of my emotional energy (that is, the emotional energy not used in trying to fight off an Owl's amorous advances) into VIKINGS and I am...somewhere. I have done you the great favor of trying to put down a chronology of story writing stages below:
I'm not doing this.
Okay, I AM doing this, but only a little.
IT IS ON.
I AM A GENIUS
UH OH
NESTING BOXES
I HATE EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING, GDI
handjobs (this goes on for a while.)
this might have been a bad idea
I AM NOT A GENIUS
wait a minute, what about....no. NOPE.
I don't care anymore, I just want it to be over.
THIS IS WHY WE DON'T TALK ABOUT STORIES IN PUBLIC
the only way out is through.
Didn't I already write this scene? No? It is a garbled pile of mispelled half-sentences that read like something out of a peyote overdose?*
THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH <---I am here right now.
*AN ACTUAL EXCERPT FROM A CRUCIAL PIVOTAL SCENE: "aif that’s, your hands, then that’s he swallows." ....what? YEAH. This is what I'm working with.
Oh, here, have this picture of Eames nobly suffering that I have to look at every ten minutes while breathing deeply in order to carry on.
I want to say that this is the last time I will talk about this story until it is DONE, but I think we all know that, much like Arthur, who tells himself he doesn't care what a slave thinks, I don't really mean it.