Welcome to November 18. Remember how I said how bad I am at Nanowrimo? My prediction has come to fruition. I wrote a little bit of a new story on November 1 and since then have done fuck all (British term). I haven’t even written here, until today.
Currently, I’m in my office. I had the sliding door open so my dog could stick her snoot outside while she slept, but it got cold, so I shut it. Still my right hand is frozen solid from using the mouse. Also, I may be a little drunk.
Nonetheless, I’ve been sitting here for… *looks at clock, thinks, tries to remember what happened last, gets distracted, considers what would happen if the world really WAS flat and it really WAS turtles all the way down, refocuses* … about 2.5 hours after having breakfast with Ashley. I’ve gone on Facebook, made some comments, watched some videos, gotten a little teared up about puppies and kittens and people who murder their babies, drank one 15% AVB beer, and now here I am. Ready to move on to a Mike’s Hard Lemonade (so mild) and maybe write a chapter of my book.
My writing group meets on Mondays at a secret location (not really) in Philadelphia. My next submission date is coming up in a couple of weeks, and I need to have something. So I figured I’d write a blog post to get warmed up. I’m trying to catch all my typos as I go, but as set forth above, my right hand is cold, and I’m drunk. Makes for poor typing.
“But Beck,” you say. “Can’t you just wear gloves?”
Yes, I can. I have some. I’ll get them.
“And Beck,” you say. “Isn’t it true that you’re supposed to write drunk and edit sober? Like Hemingway said?”
I’ve heard that, yes, and I’m about to test it out. But JFC, Hemingway did not say that. Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet.1
Anyway… my husband is off running an 8K on a lark, and I’m here getting a little toasted. I just went upstairs and put makeup on for no reason. Then I made a video and I’m so stupid it made me laugh so here it is.
Going to try to write now.
1. I believe this is a quote by Machiavelli.↩