Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s acquired during the week in an effort to avoid writing a real post, the assembly of which usually ends up taking twice as much time as actually sitting down and creating genuine content.
____________________________________
Dude, you ain’t kidding
Watson sent me this, presumably in sympathy for my current editing efforts:
It’s interesting: I named my WIP after a classic scam that has nothing to do with birds and didn’t literally appear in the story until the third draft, yet somehow I’ve become, through the generosity of friends and family, an unexpected collector of assorted pigeonry: images, vids, poems, small tchotchkes, a tee-shirt, questionable jokes, and two proposed tattoos.
Not that I’m not enjoying it all—I am, so much so that I think I’ll title my next project, Gold, Chocolate, and Nicely Toned Cabana Boys and see what happens.
oooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooo
The other side of the story
At the “Give Me a Thrill” panel at Bouchercon,* Boyd Morrison said (more or less) that villains are the heroes of their own story.
A story as rich and complex as Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings is certainly no exception:
Interspecies cultural cues can be so tricky. And now I feel sorry for that cave troll, too . . .
oooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooo
Just because I’m biased doesn’t mean it isn’t good art
Jane’s been into Escher lately. Or maybe lizards. I’m afraid to ask.
Sunny, on the other hand, has been experimenting with pastels and eyeballs.
She thinks they’re a hoot. Get it?
oooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooo
Time management for Writers. Sort of.
I don’t remember who told me about these short films about the writer’s life by Paper Rats, but I can’t thank that person enough—it’s so nice to know I’m not alone in my weird, yet utterly charming habits.
I’m pretty sure I was originally sent”$#!+,” writers say,” but this one had my complete sympathy.
And that cat tail around 1:27 kills me.
I think they mean to inspire me to go write already . . . but all I want to do is learn Chicken.
_____________________________________
*Yeah, I’m afraid it’s going to be, “This one time? At band camp?” around here for a while. Sorry.
Earful of Cider 