What I am not doing...

Jokes are hard when you're by yourself. Freakin' a, I've only got a two-page scene to write and I have nothing but bits of flat dialog. Maybe if I had no soul this would be easier. Maybe if these were my characters, or characters I had any degree of experience with. I'm kind of thinking, if I ever write for TV, it won't be for sitcoms. As if that would be a surprise to anyone. Oh, and it's hard to be funny when you're given a scene like "man and his father in a car in the rain, father is a backseat driver." I have no experience writing families! Especially not fighty ones. Rargh. I remember the good punchlines I've written because I've written so few of them. I can count like... five. Blerrr. I am a fount of bad and surreal ideas, but witty punchlines are not my forté.

In the good news department, though, my preceptor not only avoided offending me at our meeting today, but also gave me some good advice, so I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, I won't die this weekend as I try to pound out another chapter and a half. Maybe. Chances are that I probably will. And if that doesn't kill me, my newly-developed habit of falling down in front of the buses will. I don't know how I did it twice today, but I'm pretty sure it's fair to say that's a bit worrying.

P.S. The phrase "some Borg" is now one of my favourites. Imagine a conversation in which "Just because they killed a couple of boxes doesn't mean they killed The Borg. They killed some Borg." is the essential point. Now say "some Borg" a bit. It's such a delightful deviation from "The Borg", innit? And it makes a wondrous singular-turned-plural noun.

My life by the contents of my bookbag, as of January 12, 2007

( Cut, because there's a lot of crap in my bookbag and that's why I'm cleaning it out )