Friday with a Side of Links
As I was curled up in the fetal position on the floor yesterday (true story), Mr. B rolled his eyes and told me to get up.
“I’m a bad writer,” I wailed.
“No, you’re just not writing what you really mean. You’re self-censoring again.”
“I have to throw this whole thing out and start over,” I moaned.
Mr. B rolled his eyes again.
“Ok, I’m going to scratch out the introduction and write three more introductions, and you tell me which one you like more,” I said, resolutely.
I wrote three more introductions. It was a painful exercise.
“I like the third one,” he said.
“But it’s just the best out of the four. Not the best one,” I slumped in my chair. Then I got up and went to lay on the floor again.
Mr. B rolled his eyes for the third time.
“Just write what you really mean. What you really mean is xxx, xxxx, and xxxxx. So write, ‘xxxxxxx,xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx and xxxxx and xxxxx, xxxxxxxxx.’”
I stared at him.
“How did you do that? I’ve been struggling with this intro sentence for two weeks. And you just pulled it out of me in five minutes.”
Then I got off the floor and rewrote the first sentence. And then the sentence after that. And the sentence after that.
Basically what I’m saying is that Mr. B is Simon Bradstreet.
Also, being whiny on the floor is really uncomfortable.
- We’re fat and lazy!
- Is Philly ghetto? I think we already know the answer to that, yes?
- “Why I pirate”
- Living with your wanderlust
- Cool Soviet Jew poster, bro