Wednesday, June 30, 2004

Fits and Starts

I have not written anything in my novel for a mind-boggingly long time. I'm pretty sure I'm avoiding it by writing in this blog (which I might like better, though it won't pay me royalties...). Also, I've been painfully obsessed with getting my house and yard ready for a pending family reunion we're hosting, and that's taking up a goodly chunck of time (gotta love the word goodly, and don't underestimate the satisfaction derived from saying the word chunck).

So - in fits and starts, I think I'll start writing bits of the novel via the blog. Thus killing two literary birds in one fowl (heh heh) swoop.

Here's the beginning:

My coffee tastes like piss. It is truly abhorent, and I momentarly wonder if someone hasn't actually pissed in the pot. I know it happens. I remember seeing it on one of those overly dramatic news magazine shows. You know the ones - "Scandals Caught On Tape!". I wouldn't put it past some of the developers - they're still pretty miffed about all their stock options going to rot. I know how they feel - I've got a couple thousand that are never going to be worth anything, but you don't see me squatting over the brewing machine.

That's enough for now - I really have to get back to work. Hmmm, I don't know that I'll post a lot of the novel - Arthur thinks someone will pinch it. But, with only maybe 5 people reading the blog, I doubt that I have anything to worry about.

1 Comments:

At 4:42 PM, Blogger Carmi said...

If, before reading this post, I had been entertaining thoughts of drinking coffee (which I wasn't, but for the sake of this scenario, let's assume I was) your post would have turned me toward the cold water dispenser. Permanently.

I wish they could create coffee that TASTES like it SMELLS. How can something that smells so good taste like the residue left on the garage floor by a rusting '74 Malibu Classic with a leaky oilpan?

The sole exception is Tim Hortons coffee, of course. But that's only because they load it up with enough sugar to keep the population of a small West African country peeled to the tops of their thatch-roofed huts for days at a stretch.

WRT posting pieces of the novel, online samples of content have long been used to whet the public's appetite for more. If someone scaffs the entire book from someone else's blog, he/she (aka loser) likely wouldn't have bought the thing in the first place.

And you're assuming this literary pirate would even understand words with more than two syllables.

czl

 

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