Been spending most of my waking hours writing hypertext short stories and often there’s a need to remind myself I’m a writer–or at lease I’m supposed to be writing down stories. There are several methods I use to bring myself back into the black depths of writing, but one of them is to read one of the previous hypertext stories–up to #34 done out of 100 planned–and get myself back in the mood as well as copyedit what I may have missed before. I’m noticing a lot of double “a” or “the” and I laugh because it usually comes prior to an adjective or an action verb where I either don’t know what’s coming or I’m trying to think of a better way of saying it. Then when it hits, the fingers automatically type the article before the word.
In going back over yesterday’s story and comments, I realized that in rereading I had completely forgotten a line of the story and thus didn’t even answer the question of what was in the pastrami. So I came upon this, and maybe found out:
He went home not wanting to believe she’d been taken. He would never be able to eat anything again.”
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Coo coo ca choo Mrs Robinson. Nooooo… that’s not right. Love to you is what i meant. Even with this big honking magnifying glass, responding is tres diffult. I get help with posting, but i’m on my own with everything else. Next month, some witch doctor will be expelling this cataract, so i’ll soon be able to stalk properly. Have a super duper weekend.
They do that surgery with a potato peeler, don’t they? And afterwards we can do eye exams using my hypertext stories–don’t try them now, you’ll screw up your eyes forever. Have a weekend of Bloody Mary Mornings, Anne. Love ‘ya.