Day 62 A Good Story
A good story, well-told, that’s what every writer strives to accomplish. They say the shorter the story, the harder it is to do well. I’m not a screenwriter, but I imagine the same goes for films.
I watched Children of the Corn at an impressionable age, so this one rang all sorts of bells for me. Check it out.
Warning, adult content. (My daughter snorted at me for this, but she’s 16. They snort a lot at that age. Plus, she watched Saw. And liked it.)
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=4meeZifCVro]
Day 61 Farouche, That’s Me
Funniest thing I’ve heard recently was a bit of dialogue on 30 Rock last night, loosely reconstructed as follows:
“Let’s ask those ugly people, you know the ones with the paper, who change the shapes on it?”
“Oh.” Long pause. “You mean the writers?”
Yep, that’d be us. That’s what we do. We make those little shapes on the paper. And while I object to “ugly,” I’ll admit we spend a lot of time sitting around thinking, alone, often in the dark, which tends to make us pasty and out-of-shape.
They didn’t mention our social skills, I guess they ran out of time. Which brings me to our word of the day, thanks to the Vancouver Sun:
Farouche: fuh-ROOSH. Noun. Definition: marked by shyness and lack of social graces. As in, my farouche-ness makes me kind of a dud at dinner parties, but ha-HA, on paper, I’m super-cool, because I’m, like, a writer, man.
PS: I’m keepin’ on goin’ with my yoga challenge, because, well, why not? Plus, I’m making progress with my Standing-Head-to-Knee and that’s kind of a big deal. In my life.
Day 60 Expect the Unexpected
I didn’t see this coming. Yesterday the neighbourhood was aflutter with wheelbarrows, pruning shears, aerators and lime. Today? Snow.
It was even more dramatic at 7 am, when my daughter poked me to ask I’d be able to get down the mountain to school. I looked outside. White-out. Seriously, if there’d have been wind, it would have been blizzard. It was quite pretty, actually, thick fluffy flakes big as your hand, falling lazily like a soft feather blanket. Made me want to go back to bed, so I told her it would be irresponsible to attempt driving in such weather.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I’d have been able to get down; the problem is, I can’t get back up until it melts. On days like this, there’s usually a parking-lot full of cars abandoned at the bottom by people who’ve miscalculated, and I don’t intend to be one of them.
Happily, the roads look like should be fine by 3:30.
Too bad about school, but missing yoga, well, we can’t have that! It’s Day 60, after all…