half done my first (albeit really crappy) novel
I say first as though there will be tons more.
Two things. I have 25,099 words written in my novel. It's pretty exciting for me. Two: Why on earth do I need to receive an invitation to join pinterest? I've heard so many people go on about liking it, so I figured I'd check it out. Apparently it's invite only. I'm assuming that my invitation will show up in my email soon. Do I need to send references? Write a two-page autobiography? Bribe somebody?
Is pinterest really worth the trouble?
But I digress.
Good grief I need a mouse for this computer. I'll be typing away, and then I bump the little pad on the computer (ridiculously situated right under my hands) and the cursor moves and the next sentence is injected randomly into a paragraph I've already written. Maybe I'll put a little mouse into my own stocking.
I know what you're thinking: If you hold your hands up properly you wouldn't touch that uber-sensitive little pad. You could be right, but I don't want to. I have the worst posture of anyone I know, my hands follow suit. I'm a lazy-postured typer. If my hands were a sixteen year old school skipper they'd be splayed out on the couch eating doritos and watching multiple pvr'd episodes of The Walking Dead and doing it all while wearing the comfiest, ass-crack-showing pair of old sweatpants ever.
Right, the novel.
(also: not sure I like the new blogger interface. I should never ever click on "Try Now" on these sites. I never like it)
I'm halfway through the required 50,000 words that supposedly deem something a novel. My novel idea started out as one thing, and then when I started writing the novel it turned into something else entirely. The further I get into the novel, the more I want to go back in rewrite it.
Problems:
There's more, but it's 2:24 in the afternoon, and my mind is addled around this time of day. Not only that, but my friend Catherine now has me wanting fries, gravy, ketchup, vinegar and loads of salt.
My solution: I'm going to finish the book in the next 15 days. Then I'm going to rip it to shreds, better develop my characters, keep my favorite parts and re-write the rest. So those of you who were hoping to read it once it was finished will be waiting longer. I think it'll be a fun winter project. Because you know, I don't work, therefore I have all this free time. Just ask my bathroom.
Two things. I have 25,099 words written in my novel. It's pretty exciting for me. Two: Why on earth do I need to receive an invitation to join pinterest? I've heard so many people go on about liking it, so I figured I'd check it out. Apparently it's invite only. I'm assuming that my invitation will show up in my email soon. Do I need to send references? Write a two-page autobiography? Bribe somebody?
Is pinterest really worth the trouble?
But I digress.
Good grief I need a mouse for this computer. I'll be typing away, and then I bump the little pad on the computer (ridiculously situated right under my hands) and the cursor moves and the next sentence is injected randomly into a paragraph I've already written. Maybe I'll put a little mouse into my own stocking.
I know what you're thinking: If you hold your hands up properly you wouldn't touch that uber-sensitive little pad. You could be right, but I don't want to. I have the worst posture of anyone I know, my hands follow suit. I'm a lazy-postured typer. If my hands were a sixteen year old school skipper they'd be splayed out on the couch eating doritos and watching multiple pvr'd episodes of The Walking Dead and doing it all while wearing the comfiest, ass-crack-showing pair of old sweatpants ever.
Right, the novel.
(also: not sure I like the new blogger interface. I should never ever click on "Try Now" on these sites. I never like it)
I'm halfway through the required 50,000 words that supposedly deem something a novel. My novel idea started out as one thing, and then when I started writing the novel it turned into something else entirely. The further I get into the novel, the more I want to go back in rewrite it.
Problems:
- My main character is kind of a wimp. Not even a wimp, more of a nothing character. She had no hobbies, nothing she is apparently good at, besides being sarcastic. I need to sit down and just write a couple of pages about her so that I know her better. As I work my way through, I feel like I know who I want her to be, but I think she should have been a little deeper from the beginning.
- I'm coming up with more and more plot (in my convoluted thoughts) as I go. Of course this plot wasn't quite so crazy when I started. The beginning of the book suggests that the plot is pretty simple. Now that more stuff is happening, and I need to come up with ways to make things make sense, I need to inject more stuff into my book.
- The beginning of my book is very slow, and a little boring, and if I had known what was all going on with the other characters when I started it would be much better.
There's more, but it's 2:24 in the afternoon, and my mind is addled around this time of day. Not only that, but my friend Catherine now has me wanting fries, gravy, ketchup, vinegar and loads of salt.
My solution: I'm going to finish the book in the next 15 days. Then I'm going to rip it to shreds, better develop my characters, keep my favorite parts and re-write the rest. So those of you who were hoping to read it once it was finished will be waiting longer. I think it'll be a fun winter project. Because you know, I don't work, therefore I have all this free time. Just ask my bathroom.
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