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So, tonight I found $10 on the sidewalk. I slowed, I stopped, I looked around and there was no one nearby for me to give it back to. I suffered a rather long moment of indecision before picking it up. And then I looked around for the mailbox in front of the building I found it by, so I could leave it there. There wasn't one. I was very close to sticking it in the fence when my mom called and yelled at/teased me for not just picking it up and leaving with it like someone normal would. But my idea is that, as much as I enjoy believing in fate and karma and the like, someone else lost that $10 and they'd probably like it back. In the end, she convinced me that I'd never be able to find the exact person who'd lost it, and so... now I have $10 I didn't have before. It'll probably go towards food or my credit card payment...
But! In rather excellent news I think I know what I'm doing with my NaNo now. There's a part of me that's so happy it wants to dance. I knew it was in there somewhere. (It turns out the trick wasn't to write until the character I've been pestering for years was entirely mine, but to think about it until he was entirely mine. And now he is, and it makes me happy. I knew he was in there somewhere. A bit more of me is in him than usual, and loathe as I am to admit that, I think it just happens anyway when you write, and I should learn to deal with it. Just like I should learn to stop feeling unoriginal for using settings that I'm familiar with. I can't reinvent the wheel every time I write. Though I'd like to. Also, I'm starting to think that Al Capone was a conspiracy in my universe, and that thought is making my inevitable Steampunk Al Capone a much more tolerable and less cracked-out possibility. Now... I just need to write far enough to get to that point.)Unfortunately, bringing everything into line with these revelations involves trashing probably half of what I've written... Forunately/Unfortunately half of what I've written is only a bit over 1,000 words.
P.S. Is it bad that I want to go picket with the Writer's Guild? Because I kind of do. I think it'd be fun... That's weird, right?
But! In rather excellent news I think I know what I'm doing with my NaNo now. There's a part of me that's so happy it wants to dance. I knew it was in there somewhere. (It turns out the trick wasn't to write until the character I've been pestering for years was entirely mine, but to think about it until he was entirely mine. And now he is, and it makes me happy. I knew he was in there somewhere. A bit more of me is in him than usual, and loathe as I am to admit that, I think it just happens anyway when you write, and I should learn to deal with it. Just like I should learn to stop feeling unoriginal for using settings that I'm familiar with. I can't reinvent the wheel every time I write. Though I'd like to. Also, I'm starting to think that Al Capone was a conspiracy in my universe, and that thought is making my inevitable Steampunk Al Capone a much more tolerable and less cracked-out possibility. Now... I just need to write far enough to get to that point.)
P.S. Is it bad that I want to go picket with the Writer's Guild? Because I kind of do. I think it'd be fun... That's weird, right?
