![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leahbobetOctober 16, 2011 Progress Notes:
"On Roadstead Farm"
Words today: 2600.
Words total: 12,150.
Reason for stopping: That takes me through the 40 pages I need for the arts council grant application, which I will now finish putting together for tomorrow.
Darling du Jour: "They burned," he said, and lowered his head. "They burned as they rose and they burned as they fell. They burned the road right off the land."
Words Hallie Won't Admit to Knowing: absently, automatic.
Mean Things: Prowlers. Finding out exactly what that fight you missed yesterday was about. Being overlooked, again. People seeing things that are not apparently there. Bad things happening at previous stops on one's journey (although: Good story, Heron. Maaaan). Trapped, helpless inadequacy when you're supposed to have all the answers.
Research Roundup: Goat birthing, and what that's like. US maps, and some distance calculations. Mythology of crossroads.
Books in progress: Joseph Heath and Andrew Potter, The Rebel Sell: Why the Culture Can't Be Jammed; Ryan Oakley, Technicolor Super Mall.
It is an unpleasant thing to think you're done something in the lovely midafternoon, and then reread the instructions, and realize that sans serif font means you're still short seven full pages. Moral, kids: Always check these things first. Oof.
That said, I'm done it now, and the goal of having two complete arts grant applications this month is pretty damn achieved. I can't say this takes me off deadline -- there's another one that's been creeping up on me while I've been preoccupied with this -- but whatever. Achievement unlocked.
Now, for printing and packaging and all that. And to hit the showers. I smell like words.
"On Roadstead Farm"
Words today: 2600.
Words total: 12,150.
Reason for stopping: That takes me through the 40 pages I need for the arts council grant application, which I will now finish putting together for tomorrow.
Darling du Jour: "They burned," he said, and lowered his head. "They burned as they rose and they burned as they fell. They burned the road right off the land."
Words Hallie Won't Admit to Knowing: absently, automatic.
Mean Things: Prowlers. Finding out exactly what that fight you missed yesterday was about. Being overlooked, again. People seeing things that are not apparently there. Bad things happening at previous stops on one's journey (although: Good story, Heron. Maaaan). Trapped, helpless inadequacy when you're supposed to have all the answers.
Research Roundup: Goat birthing, and what that's like. US maps, and some distance calculations. Mythology of crossroads.
Books in progress: Joseph Heath and Andrew Potter, The Rebel Sell: Why the Culture Can't Be Jammed; Ryan Oakley, Technicolor Super Mall.
It is an unpleasant thing to think you're done something in the lovely midafternoon, and then reread the instructions, and realize that sans serif font means you're still short seven full pages. Moral, kids: Always check these things first. Oof.
That said, I'm done it now, and the goal of having two complete arts grant applications this month is pretty damn achieved. I can't say this takes me off deadline -- there's another one that's been creeping up on me while I've been preoccupied with this -- but whatever. Achievement unlocked.
Now, for printing and packaging and all that. And to hit the showers. I smell like words.
