Despite being bedridden for days, I’ve managed to make minor progress with my short story for school. 2,700 words. I need at least 3,000. Tell me, what do girls talk about with boys in bars late at night? On second thought, don’t answer that. This is not that kind of story. I need more conversation! For someone who can talk til her mouth runs dry, why can’t I write authentic conversation?
I’ve read half of the Essential Short Stories book. The Vincent O’Sullivan is still my favourite, but there’s also a fantastic one in there by Sarah Quigley, and also Katherine Mansfield’s classic The Doll House.
Posted some new poems at sundayscars.wordpress.com. At least I rarely struggle with those.
I was going to write something sort of cute and funny about things girls say to boys in bars that referenced things you’d said to me in bars but then I gave up on that lame idea and wrote this about how I wasn’t going to write that, instead.
For the sake of trying to be useful and helpful and make your like easier and frankly to try and salvage something from what and let’s just face it would otherwise be a total non-comment-comment and basically a huge waste of electrons: they troll them. Hard.
LIFE. Your LIFE easier.
So embarrass. And disappoint.