I just finished writing Year of the Dog ! It had a massive plot hole that I had to fix which turned out to be more work than I expected. Here’s a snippet: “Hey, Auntie Nell.” He wrapped his arms around her, bussing her on the cheek and breathing in pikake flowers and shortbread cookies. And suddenly he was nine years old again, and her solid presence had made his chaotic world stable once more. “What are you doing here?” He usually took her to dinner on Wednesday nights, but today was Tuesday. The edges of her smile faltered a little before brightening right back up again. “What, I can’t visit my nephew?” She angled around him to enter his home. “Is this your new house? Looks lovely.” Which was a blatant lie, because the fixer-upper was barely livable, much less acceptable to a neat-freak like his aunt. She also left four matching pink and purple floral suitcases on the stoop behind her. Only then did Ashwin notice the cab driver standing slightly to the side of the walkway. “Can ...
Captain's Log, Stardate 09.04.2006
TMI:
Writing: I posted another "Health and the Writer" post at WriterQuotes, and another synopsis tip at myStory Sensei blog.
Diet: Youth group is going to kill me. Or more specifically, my diet.
We started youth group meetings again this past Saturday after taking August off. After every meeting, we have chips, cookies, and soda for the kids.
I can usually hold back on the soda because it eats away at the enamel on my teeth (read: pain), but I have a hard time keeping my grubby hands off those chips. And sometimes the cookies, too, if they’re good ones.
It’s just that they’re there. You know what I’m talking about. They lie there crying, Eat me! Eat me!
Brain dislocates from stomach, and hand reaches into the chip bowl.
I need more self-control. That or chop off my hand.
TMI:
Writing: I posted another "Health and the Writer" post at WriterQuotes, and another synopsis tip at myStory Sensei blog.
Diet: Youth group is going to kill me. Or more specifically, my diet.
We started youth group meetings again this past Saturday after taking August off. After every meeting, we have chips, cookies, and soda for the kids.
I can usually hold back on the soda because it eats away at the enamel on my teeth (read: pain), but I have a hard time keeping my grubby hands off those chips. And sometimes the cookies, too, if they’re good ones.
It’s just that they’re there. You know what I’m talking about. They lie there crying, Eat me! Eat me!
Brain dislocates from stomach, and hand reaches into the chip bowl.
I need more self-control. That or chop off my hand.