NaNoWriMo Day 23 --Happy Turkey Day
Yeah, that would be a grand leap of 6366 words today.
Why is this, you say?
Well, obviously I have no life. And I'm REALLY okay with that.
I purposefully forewent soliciting an invitation from friends to get invited to somebody's Thanksgiving, although as I type this, I recall I had hit up my Childhood Buds' Mom for an invite to Alabama, but I've not heard hide nor hair. I hope everything's okay in Yoursville!
Meanwhile, more about ME! So I started writing when I woke up, kept writing while my FakePod recharged, then hit the gym, got me a way too expensive plate of Thanksgiving food from Boston Market, and returned to commence to more writing. I finished and entered the word count at 11:59 PM, my time.
In the novel itself, I went to a weird place with the development that had bummed me out. So the story was right to tell me to trust it --it's done all SORTS of interesting things with the way I left it. Once elsewhere, I had read or heard an author say that if you want to make a story pop you have to take risks. Take your characters to the edge and them push them over (to paraphrase).
In other news, my Yahoo Mail main page tells me the following;
"NEW YORK - Gerald M. Boyd, who became the first black managing editor of The New York Times and was forced to resign two years later amid a reporter's plagiarism scandal, has died. He was 56.
Boyd had been diagnosed with lung cancer in February and died Thursday at his home, said his wife, Robin Stone. He had been sick for most of the year and had kept the condition private from most friends and colleagues, Stone said."
Now that's a real shame. Died on Thanksgiving Day. I didn't know when the black plaigiarist went down at the Times, he took down another brother. Crabs in a barrel. What a bastard. And now this poor dude, only 56 years old, gets no chance to salvage his reputation or defend his honor thanks to cancer. Despite all the other accomplishments he achieved (click on link, read the rest of the article please), is all he'll be known for is getting fired because of the way he managed a lying, sniveling little cheating weasel?
And now how this pertains to ME (yay me!) The article goes on to say that the man left a 10-year old son behind.
That means he was a pro writer, getting paid the ducats, and made a baby at 46 yrs old! THERE'S HOPE FOR ME YET!
RIP Mr. Boyd.
Why is this, you say?
Well, obviously I have no life. And I'm REALLY okay with that.
I purposefully forewent soliciting an invitation from friends to get invited to somebody's Thanksgiving, although as I type this, I recall I had hit up my Childhood Buds' Mom for an invite to Alabama, but I've not heard hide nor hair. I hope everything's okay in Yoursville!
Meanwhile, more about ME! So I started writing when I woke up, kept writing while my FakePod recharged, then hit the gym, got me a way too expensive plate of Thanksgiving food from Boston Market, and returned to commence to more writing. I finished and entered the word count at 11:59 PM, my time.
In the novel itself, I went to a weird place with the development that had bummed me out. So the story was right to tell me to trust it --it's done all SORTS of interesting things with the way I left it. Once elsewhere, I had read or heard an author say that if you want to make a story pop you have to take risks. Take your characters to the edge and them push them over (to paraphrase).
In other news, my Yahoo Mail main page tells me the following;
"NEW YORK - Gerald M. Boyd, who became the first black managing editor of The New York Times and was forced to resign two years later amid a reporter's plagiarism scandal, has died. He was 56.
Boyd had been diagnosed with lung cancer in February and died Thursday at his home, said his wife, Robin Stone. He had been sick for most of the year and had kept the condition private from most friends and colleagues, Stone said."
Now that's a real shame. Died on Thanksgiving Day. I didn't know when the black plaigiarist went down at the Times, he took down another brother. Crabs in a barrel. What a bastard. And now this poor dude, only 56 years old, gets no chance to salvage his reputation or defend his honor thanks to cancer. Despite all the other accomplishments he achieved (click on link, read the rest of the article please), is all he'll be known for is getting fired because of the way he managed a lying, sniveling little cheating weasel?
And now how this pertains to ME (yay me!) The article goes on to say that the man left a 10-year old son behind.
That means he was a pro writer, getting paid the ducats, and made a baby at 46 yrs old! THERE'S HOPE FOR ME YET!
RIP Mr. Boyd.
posted by Me | 11/24/2006 12:07:00 AM
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