Who Shot the Tortoise?
You'd think I could find a way of working that would actually . . . I don't know . . . work. Wouldn't you?
For longer than 24 hours anyway.
But, no. Today the tortoise has been limping along, barely even getting a hundred words. Total. He actua
lly even lost ground. Got the end of his chapter shot out from under him. Got a new end which is actually better, but lost several hundred words in the process.
The old words didn't make it into the next chapter. Well, no, that's not true. They did make it. But they kept getting shoved further and further toward the end. I guess the hope was that I would somehow catch up with them and make them part of the narrative.
Um, no. Didn't work. So, snip -- they're gone.
The tortoise looked around and said, "Huh." And then moved on.
Liz Fielding asked me what was slower than a tortoise. A snail? Maybe. I'm probably going to find out. I'm trying to get Sara out of the house with her date. They should have been out of the house several months ago.
I think I need to go do Twyla Tharp's "egg" routine -- the one where y
ou sit down on the floor and wad yourself up in as tiny a space as possible (like an egg). And then? Well, you can stay there. But I've already done that. Been doing it for months.
I think the point is to expand, grow, try something. Anything. MOVE.
Off to be an egg.
Question for the day: if you become an egg and you roll off something, do you go splat?
For longer than 24 hours anyway.
But, no. Today the tortoise has been limping along, barely even getting a hundred words. Total. He actua
lly even lost ground. Got the end of his chapter shot out from under him. Got a new end which is actually better, but lost several hundred words in the process.The old words didn't make it into the next chapter. Well, no, that's not true. They did make it. But they kept getting shoved further and further toward the end. I guess the hope was that I would somehow catch up with them and make them part of the narrative.
Um, no. Didn't work. So, snip -- they're gone.
The tortoise looked around and said, "Huh." And then moved on.
Liz Fielding asked me what was slower than a tortoise. A snail? Maybe. I'm probably going to find out. I'm trying to get Sara out of the house with her date. They should have been out of the house several months ago.
I think I need to go do Twyla Tharp's "egg" routine -- the one where y
ou sit down on the floor and wad yourself up in as tiny a space as possible (like an egg). And then? Well, you can stay there. But I've already done that. Been doing it for months.I think the point is to expand, grow, try something. Anything. MOVE.
Off to be an egg.
Question for the day: if you become an egg and you roll off something, do you go splat?
# # #
MySpace update -- I have color, thanks to Michelle Styles. She gave me color, I gave her a prospective hero. I like my color, but I think she got the better end of the deal. If I ever get Flynn out of here, maybe I can use Mads Mikkelsen as future inspiration.
But for the moment at least, we won't be mentioning my fickleness to Flynn.
MySpace update -- I have color, thanks to Michelle Styles. She gave me color, I gave her a prospective hero. I like my color, but I think she got the better end of the deal. If I ever get Flynn out of here, maybe I can use Mads Mikkelsen as future inspiration.
But for the moment at least, we won't be mentioning my fickleness to Flynn.
posted by Anne McAllister at 3:44 PM
2 Comments:
Tortises lay eggs.
I am sure everything will go on along vommingly.
And I do know that I got the better end of the bargain.Mads is lovely. I will gladly return him to you -- slightly rumpled in due course.
Glad you like him, Michelle. Enjoy. And it will certainly be a while before I'm in need of a new hero, so take your time. Thanks again for all the MySpace help!
word verification: gfifyndd -- not sure what it is, but I'm definitely sure it's Welsh.
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