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So let's get it on.
November 22, 2009 Progress Notes:
"When Your Number Isn't Up"
Words today: 550.
Words total: 1300.
Reason for stopping: It's a good round number, and no reason to push it. Also, my teapot's empty. I don't have to work anymore when my teapot's empty.
Darling du Jour: There was blood in her hair, like light. It caught the light and spilled it, thick and sticky, through sleek black curls like spilled rye. Her face was red, and the patched cream rug was red, and her fingernails were red on the hand that held the stubby pistol. The window was shut, and the bathroom door.
Mean Things: Trauma, bodies, a very quiet haunting.
Research Roundup: Invention of the record player/phonograph, Brit as a male name, where telephone technology was at in 1949.
Books in progress: Emma Bull, Territory.
The glamour: I did, in fact, cook. Hooray for me!
Went back to work tonight partly because![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stillsostrange was available for a race, and partly because it's just tickling in my head tonight and I wasn't really going to be content with watching more TV. It got a little recalcitrant at the end, but it wasn't a bad decision to make.
The mini-chapter breaks developed names today; notably, names that are all in lowercase and bits of phrases and verymekkavandexter. I will note that I just work here. Regardless, they seem to fit very nicely. I still have no idea what I'm on about with this thing, but the first chapterlette is mostly continuous narrative and not jumbled pieces anymore.
I feel like a Real Writer (tm) today for the first time in a good while.
It feels good. Clean and sharp and steady. Now, if only I can keep that up during the actual workweek...
"When Your Number Isn't Up"
Words today: 550.
Words total: 1300.
Reason for stopping: It's a good round number, and no reason to push it. Also, my teapot's empty. I don't have to work anymore when my teapot's empty.
Darling du Jour: There was blood in her hair, like light. It caught the light and spilled it, thick and sticky, through sleek black curls like spilled rye. Her face was red, and the patched cream rug was red, and her fingernails were red on the hand that held the stubby pistol. The window was shut, and the bathroom door.
Mean Things: Trauma, bodies, a very quiet haunting.
Research Roundup: Invention of the record player/phonograph, Brit as a male name, where telephone technology was at in 1949.
Books in progress: Emma Bull, Territory.
The glamour: I did, in fact, cook. Hooray for me!
Went back to work tonight partly because
stillsostrange was available for a race, and partly because it's just tickling in my head tonight and I wasn't really going to be content with watching more TV. It got a little recalcitrant at the end, but it wasn't a bad decision to make.The mini-chapter breaks developed names today; notably, names that are all in lowercase and bits of phrases and very
mekkavandexter. I will note that I just work here. Regardless, they seem to fit very nicely. I still have no idea what I'm on about with this thing, but the first chapterlette is mostly continuous narrative and not jumbled pieces anymore.I feel like a Real Writer (tm) today for the first time in a good while.
It feels good. Clean and sharp and steady. Now, if only I can keep that up during the actual workweek...
no subject
no subject
In my case, it would help if I got on with the writing, too.