As per my previous post, I finished the last little bit of typing. I’d feel accomplished if I’d stopped handwriting this story at an ending point, but I just arbitrarily stopped and decided now was time to type up what I had, so I have some fraction of a story typed up in which I have no ending and no clue how much longer it’s going to be, and that just seems like a little bit of a waste of time this Friday when I could have been watching Netflix and eating Nutella.
Month: December 2017
I read:
Thoughts:
The Marshall Plan by Benn Steil: Review to come on publication date.
Wordwings by Sydelle Pearl : Reviewed earlier this month.
The Parcel by Anosh Irani: Reviewed earlier this month.
Taproot by Keezy Young: Reviewed earlier this month.
I’ll Take You There by Wally Lamb: Reviewed earlier this month.
The Little Red Wolf by Amélie Fléchais: Reviewed earlier this month.
The Cat In the Box by John Gribbin and Mary Gribbin: Review to come.
A Beautiful, Terrible Thing by Jen Waite: Review to come.
The Gulf by Tucky Fussell: Review to come.
Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman: Review to come.
Favourite book:
which probably isn’t surprising considering my review.
Most promising book on my wishlist:
I wrote:
My big thing this month was getting the 35 000 words I had down in a notebook (not a Nanorwritjvalmf430 or whatever, just words I’d been writing since last June) onto my computer. So I can type approximately 100 wpm, so 350 minutes, so let’s round and say six hours, so why did it take me over a week to get it done? And, technically, I still have about 1000 words to type.
In any case, this is what I learned: nothing. Absolutely nothing. Every part of the creative process is like the time I broke my foot in that I mention it constantly and it’s always painful.