Hunted and bagged

I’ve begun reading and watching editorial comedy. It’s editors gussying up their responses to clients. Obviously, it’s played for laughs, but there’s truth in there.

Oh, dear God, I am these people. I am both ends of the joke. I am the audience laughing at the silly author, and I am the author who doesn’t understand why ‘Her snozzberries tasted like snozzberries’ isn’t an applicable line for a spicy romance.

KBPI

Just heard Genesis, Jimmy Buffett, and Nirvana, in succession, on the classic rock station.

Those are all the same genre of music now.

God, I’m f’kin old.

Chop Chop Goes the Editing

My problem is narrative oversharing. My fiction goes way too long into things that don’t need discussion.

I’d really like to see the original, terrible cut of Star Wars just to understand classic examples of what should be cut.

School

The professor was a blithering idiot.

“I really don’t care about any of you students,” he said. “I went to harder schools, and over fifty percent of us didn’t have what it took. You’re lazy, you’re cheaters, and you don’t care. You’re just here to appease your parents or meet boys, girls, what-have you, and none of you are worth my time. I don’t accept late homework. I don’t give partial credit. I will fail each and every one of you, and laugh in your whining faces when I do it. I just don’t like you, and I hope that tells you everything you need to know about this class.”

It absolutely did, and I rose to leave.

“But for those of you still here, we’ll begin with advanced draconomancy, the summoning and controlling of dragons. They’re immune to normal sorcery, so we’ll have to develop specific techniques.”

I sat back down, and I hated myself for it.

Good morning!

Evil bean juice make me go fast, make my heart beat fast, make me make mistakes fast!