This writing fiction is not for wimps.
My last two scenes in Act Two are truly lousy. Lani’s screaming about her last scene. Krissie . . . well, the farther in we go, the harder it gets. But I think this book is amazing, and if I can just figure out what I’m trying to say as I’m writing it, it’ll be even better. This is when Bob always said, “Just shoot somebody,” but it’s not that easy. We’ll get it. We’ll hash it all out tomorrow now that we have all the Act Two scenes written, even if they do have problems. And then once we put them together in a single act file, we’ll really see where we need to work.
Just in time for Act Three.
In other news, we’re writing about cookies constantly and all three of us are dying for some but none of us have time to bake. I did buy all the ingredients but so far it’s been keyboard 24/7. And I figured out that Milton’s always sitting on the keyboard because he’s trying to dominate it. Dogs climb on top of people and animals they’re trying to dominate and the keyboard is warm and I spend all my time with it, so . . . Also, tonight Milton ate a hole in the duvet. And it’s a nice duvet, too.
But by god, we got Act Two done.
20 thoughts on “Shar 6: I Don’t Know What I Think Till I See What I Wrote”
You do realize, don’t you, that eventually the entire duvet is going to wind up inside Milton?
Well, passing through Milton.
Do you think it will come out reassembled–buttons and all?
Speaking of cookies, here’s a cool idea. It’s a series of raffles of foodie-type things from all over the world, very yummy prizes. Here’s the main page with all the prizes listed. Or you can go to the bottom of the page and follow the link to the coordinator for your geographical area.
They do it to raise money for the UN World Food Programme. And one of the prizes this years is a custom created cookie recipe. If you won, you could have her create one for the book. Doesn’t that sound cool? And it’s for a good cause.
Dominating, shooting… it might be a guy thing? Jim Henson used to say if you couldn’t figure out what to do next, a monster could eat it, you could blow something up, or throw penguins into the mix. Of course with Muppets you have slightly more flexibility than with humans, but on the other hand, with fiction your universe is your own.
Yay!! All hail Act 2.
Maybe Milton has worms?
Be glad you don’t have a parrot. Mine is terrifically jealous of the keyboard and likes to sneak over and rip all my keys off. Of course, he also likes to attack the ceiling fan. It’s like having an eternal two-year-old with wings. And pliers.
Well, we now know why Mr. M was looking for a new home. He ate his last one.
When you find Clitoris, set up a general PO Box because I think you’d get a lot of cookies sent to you that way. 🙂
Congrats on Act Two!
The single act file, yeah, I forgot about that baby. I’m struggling through a rewrite in the third act. Shall seperate it and see how it reads alone, if it becomes it’s own little story. Thank you, thank you.
And Milton …behave!
Milton has issues.
Milton is chewing on the new Amazon boxes as I type. I don’t think he has worms. I think he’s Milton. Conquering the world, one gnaw at a time.
Maybe Milton is really just a mutant goat?
This weekend I got a dog. I blame you. Thanks for the dog-adoption inspiration!
He’s an Airedale, 20 months old and the product of a broken home. He’s adorable. And he tries to climb on me, and he does this neat levitate-onto-the-bed trick in the mornings. So far no chewing, though.
We once had a black lab that tried to chew the bricks off our house. He also placed all his toys in a neat pile each night and slept on top of them. Don’t judge them…just love them.
Emma and Angus ate a steel box that was bolted onto the outside of our house. After they ate much of the kitchen. It’s a puppy thing. That or Milton is channeling your D&G muse and eating the duvet is merely his way of taking a sacrifice of his choosing, as is his due.
You mean it was a nice duvet. Poor Mr. Milton.
How old is Milton again? When my Scarlett (God rest her soul) was a puppy, the teething thing just about killed me, financially that is. She tore through every pair of my mother’s shoes (not mine, of course, because she knew who bought the food) as well as the corner of the banister and a few other things.
I vote for putting Clitoris in the suburbs of Las Vegas! Then again, we would never want the words, “There’s too much sand in Clitoris!” being uttered! 😉
Um… when Bob said “Just shoot somebody” — it would be reassuring to know that he was referring to a character rather than … oh, I don’t know, a co-writer?
Depends on the day.
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