1/11/07. An unseemly spill…
Back down the labyrinthine rabbit hole we go…
Kinda says it all, doesn’t it? And, interestingly, it captures the trials of my protag nicely, too… She drinks. She smokes. She turns pumpkins into Volkswagens. Will her character deficits derail her or save the day?
I stand on the brink. The war is about to begin… and I sprained my leg! The garage floor rose with unseemly haste, and I got a good look at a cobweb under my work bench before the dogs came to see why I had decided to dust the floor with my sweatpants. Sometimes this writing business has my pantaloons in knots!
Now I’m sitting here at my desk sideways, foot propped up with ice packs, trying to type. Not as limber as I used to be but have managed to squeak past the 1k word count, 1,096 to be exact.
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- Sammi
A psychic once told me that in a past life my writing so inspired a politician he took steps to have my head removed. This time around, I’ve tried to remember, with varying degrees of success, that diplomacy is the better part of valor, a little inaccuracy can save tons of explanation and, when all else fails, the best option may well be to tell the truth and run.
I wrote my first memoir when I was six and am currently working on a fantasy spoof. Although I have never met my fairy godmother — nor a common garden gnome, for that matter — once, while weeding in my garden, I fought a dragon that was impersonating a wild raspberry bush.
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