….which is not to say I’m completely done murdering squids. I did a very weak pass at the last five chapters and then dove straight into a frenzy of note-taking and list-making, trying to pin every loose end and plot hole to the cork board by its pretty, dead, formaldehyde-soaked little wings.
Anyway. This is my first real departure from Holly’s advice, and I’m not yet sure it was the right thing to do, but I got so mired in stuff I can only really fix with the MS spread out sacrifice-like on my computer screen; it’s just too hard for me to connect the dots on hard copy sometimes. So I made enough notes to put any overeager freshman to shame and now here I am, where the keyboard keys all stick and the screen resolution is always just that little bit off. I gave up on contacts and glasses a while back and have just pulled the monitor as close to me as I can get it, so the cord is completely extended and I look a little like my grandmother trying to drive her town car.
Typing hell.
Amazing. I have lived with myself for mumblemumble years now, have lived with my strange desire to create imaginary friends and then splash them all over a piece of paper for -um – yes, about 27 years now, and yet the staggering illegibleness of my handwriting never fails to stun and dismay me.
Yes, I know illegibleness is not a word. I’m making it one. If “meh” can end up in the dictionary, well, I think I can do this much.
Anyway. This is my first real departure from Holly’s advice, and I’m not yet sure it was the right thing to do, but I got so mired in stuff I can only really fix with the MS spread out sacrifice-like on my computer screen; it’s just too hard for me to connect the dots on hard copy sometimes. So I made enough notes to put any overeager freshman to shame and now here I am, where the keyboard keys all stick and the screen resolution is always just that little bit off. I gave up on contacts and glasses a while back and have just pulled the monitor as close to me as I can get it, so the cord is completely extended and I look a little like my grandmother trying to drive her town car.
Typing hell.
Amazing. I have lived with myself for mumblemumble years now, have lived with my strange desire to create imaginary friends and then splash them all over a piece of paper for -um – yes, about 27 years now, and yet the staggering illegibleness of my handwriting never fails to stun and dismay me.
Yes, I know illegibleness is not a word. I’m making it one. If “meh” can end up in the dictionary, well, I think I can do this much.
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