In my next life I'm coming back as an 18 year old guy Olympic half-pipe snowboarder. Only, I'm not going to have acne like guys on the current team.
Somebody just asked ME for help with GDFHTML. My friend BB is laughing his ass off right now as he reads this.
I was under the hairdryer at the salon with my laptop and the girl asked me, "What are you working on?" and I said, "I'm an editor for a magazine (I don't use the word "ezine" because I always have to explain it. Why does no one know what an e-zine is? For crissake, people, it's 2006.) and I'm reading stories."
She goes, "Oh, any good ones?"
I shrugged noncommittally, "I don't think I've got any in this batch that fits our needs..." I'm learning editor lingo pretty quick, as if I haven't read it on a thousand rejections before. Ok, not a thousand. I'm not that bad.
But, I started thinking, I, as a writer, would be pretty pissed if I was rejected under the hairdryer at the salon. And then I thought, No. It's a great place to concentrate. Plenty of white noise.
Ah, white noise. Love the white noise.
My dog has barfed twice in the middle of the night. She doesn't even fucking get off her bed, she just hangs her head over the side and urps. Fucking dog.
Hmm. I think I had a roommate in college who did that.
Oh wait, that was me.
Redid the website. I've got the start to the new WIP, which is in revisions. It took me awhile to warm up to ole Sean, but he's a stand-up sort, even with his penchant for long range weaponry and solving problems by pumping bullets into people. It is a fantasy, but starts out in present day France. You know me, I can't resist a few guns, and there aren't any guns once he gets to Hinterland.