I violently failed National Novel Writing Month 2009. Surprise, surprise. There were dreams, but not progress. Dreams, but no results. Dreeeaams. How many thousand words is a dream worth? I only got so far as recording the first five minutes. How many hours and days and years can a dream be worth? How many moments and years contained in a dream. I am sorry, NaNoWriMo, I let you down, but I was lost in yer dream.( Here are the remnants.Collapse )
I never write in you. Why is that? Because I live locked up in a solid brick house, with TEN LITTLE PIGGIES. Am I afraid of the big bad wolf shimmying down the chimney? Nay, for that wolf be roasting over the flame and the smoke of his soul is twirling up and out that chimney, for one good lass and TEN FAT HOGS can take on one puny wolf, easy. A stringy beast for supper, but a mighty symbol to dine upon.
I'm still not writing in you.
Sucks to be you, Journal, because I'm up to all kinds of crazytimes. You won't be hearin' 'bout 'em. PTTTHH.
Love and kisses,