xerinmichellex

Whew. So glad that first draft is done and out of my system.

I finished my WIP early yesterday at 70,000 words, which will likely expand since I feel like I just dumped a load of crap to say I FINISHED the damn thing, now leave me alone. For some reason I was really questioning my writing abilities during this novel--my biggest issue in getting it done. Maybe I've been hanging around the Absolute Write Forums or author blogs too long, because all I could think about while I wrote was everyone else is writing Shakespearean lines and I'm writing, "See Spot. See Spot run. Run, Spot, run."

For the curious minds, I whipped up this quick synopsis:( and my trip to the library )

Also: Just read J.D. Salinger died. I suspect an announcement that a film version of Catcher in the Rye will soon follow--unless his estate has specific instructions to honor his lifelong request to not sell the book rights. Though, reading what his daughter had to say about him...they might be sold in spite.

Also-also: Totally unrelated but, in case anyone wanted to know, Showtime premiered Twilight on Saturday. Within the first 24 hours they played it FOUR TIMES. FOUR! That's twice a day. Plus it's OnDemand. Those sparkles, I tell ya, they spread faster than herpes in the male locker room.

I just got back from one of those quick trips to the grocery store--the kind where most of the stuff could be bought at a quckie mart, except the ones by us keep going out of business. So, I braved the outside with my father to go to the other grocery store because the one closer to us doesn't have a parking lot on account it's been ripped up to be repaved. Already the trip wasn't looking good. In the car I was treated to my father's stirring rendition of All-American Rejects' "Move Along". (I'm still humming "Mow the lawn, mow the lawn" as I sit here.)

At the store my father and I got into a pissing contest over where the facial scrubs were in the cosmetic aisle. My father also refused to grab the milk we need until after we got the stuff that didn't need to be cold, cause he thought we were spending an hour at the store. Shopping with my father, it could have been. Facial scrub in hand, I watched my father fight with the liquor cooler to get the two Sharps boxes on the top shelf, in the very back. The Sharps were the reason for our trip; therefore, talking my father out of shaking the shelves before he spilled all the alcohol on the floor wasn't going to happen. He managed to pull the two remaining boxes out using one of the beer bottles from a pack on the shelf below.

The cashier that helped us was a little, old lady named "Norma Jean". I squeed on the inside. I can only imagine what she made of our purchases: facial scrub (which the company totally repackaged in a smaller size whilst maintaining the original price), a gallon of milk, ice cream, two boxes of Sharps, and Kraft Singles American Cheese.

Then on the way home, there was an ambulance and fire truck parked at the end of the street. A couple kids from the Bicycle Gang were sitting at the cul-de-sac watching. That's the most excitement we get around here.

Back to my editing party!