7/6/00

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Read some interesting journals:

July, 2000

7/6/00

I've discovered something. It's pretty damn hard to come up with stuff to post in this journal. Not that anyone's actually reading this, I'm sure. (BTW, if anyone IS reading this online screed, please email me and let me know. Just curious. Watch, I'll get nothing. I've been talking to myself for the past couple of weeks.) And after sampling other journals...well...I've come to the inescapable conclusion that I have the most boring life. And if I have a life that sucks so much, why the heck am I writing about it? What could possibly possess me to bother when 1) I have a sucky, boring, uneventful life; 2) Most likely nobody's even reading this; 3) I'm soooo boring I can't come up with a third reason.

Then, there are the OTHER online journals. The brilliantly funny, witty ones which cause me to literally guffaw into my 'puter. People like Dana, Melanie, Em, Sam, and Erm. Read them. You'll see. Trust me -- you'll become hooked. There are thousands of online journals, and only so much time to read them. These five are worth re-visiting. I'm sure they get lots of email.

Then, just to make me feel a little better, there are the sites which...well...are... actually lamer than mine. And that's pretty durn baaaad. ("Bad" meaning...well...actually...bad. Oh Lord, why must I explain these things?) To give an example, I came upon a journal whose current entry told of his visit to a pizza parlor with his girlfriend. Boring enough, yes? Ah, but that was not all, you see. Oh... he thought he'd be witty and talk about...boogers. Ha. Ha. Ha. I'm laughing already. To Lamer-Journeler (no hyperlink to protect the identity): Gee, I really enjoyed reading about how you "tricked" your girlfriend into thinking that the dried mucous shrapnel (after picking her nose in public; it was nice of you to describe in detail her method of extracting snot. Thank you) did not land in the very piece of pizza she was about to eat. And, of course, she unwittingly bit into the snot-sullied pizza slice. Ho. Ho. Ho. Oh my God. What wit. I'm soooo glad I wasted the nano-second it took to scan that entry. But you know, I feel so much better about my own lame site. Thank you. You have no idea what you did for my flagging self-esteem.

Anyway. Just read the other sites.

Mind Diver's word count is increasing. 442 words on Wednesday and 985 words today. I was smokin'. Finally got to the "party" scene; Gillian has met Christopher...sexual tension is not far off now. The page count is nearly 70 pages, Chapter Seven...only about 330 pages left to go. Sigh. Dome.JPG (56070 bytes) Jeez, how I wish I could just flush those damn words out instead of chugging along. I've got to keep my inner-editor at bay. Inner-editor you ask? Well, let Julia Blackshear Kosatka explain it to you (btw, another excellent journal).

Yes, that durn inner-editor causes writers to obsess over every stinkin' word, bit of prose, plot line. And it doesn't wait until the first draft is finished to poke its pointy little head into your business. Oh no. The inner-editor lives for bad-timing. The inner-editor thrives on making a writer question his/her work -- on a constant basis. The inner-editor must be put on stasis until the first draft is done. Oh, were that as simple as it sounds...