Too much
I wrote too much and for too long yesterday. While I was writing I kept telling myself to stop, for I was using up all my words and there would be none left for today. Damn, I was right.
posted by Lynn @ 1:17 PM
4 comments
4 Comments:
I've got this picture of you sitting in your sleeveless tee-shirt and boxers in front of a manual typewriter on a small table -- an overflowing ashtray with a smoldering butt to your left and a near-empty bottle of Jack Daniels to the right -- a small lamp sits back and to the left, the only light piercing the stale, inky darkness of the room. You're whacking away at the keys as small beads of sweat begin to form on your upper lip and brow.
And you're writing... writing... what? "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?" What is it you write?
epm -
You pretty much have it right except I drink Maker’s Mark bourbon whiskey. Did you sneak into my apartment one night while I was not home?
I write my first drafts using a manual typewriter. It makes me feel like a writer if nothing else. Plus, it doesn’t have a delete key!
I am teaching myself to write fiction. I write personal essays too. I’m also dawdling over a movie screenplay.
Fascinating... Thanks for letting my pry.
By the way, I think I accidently took you're lighter. Sorry.
epm -
I was wondering where that went. Did you see my reading glasses while you were here. I can't seem to find them again.
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