Once upon a time, there was a little girl named [oh, shit, I didn’t think of a name yet. what’s her name? umm. not something too cutesy or too Brittany. she’s nine, I think. nine seems good. if the story is set in the present, that means she was born in 2010. depending on month, but let’s say 2010. ok,
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A little while ago, I killed off a character. Maybe. Probably. Hard to say what’s real and what’s not, but that’s beside the point. At the moment that I was writing it, he was dead, dead, deadski, regardless of what might or might not happen later. And I didn’t feel bad about it at all. I also completely traumatized another
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Let’s see, where are we? I’ve gone through all of the feedback that I’ve received for book 2, and the technical corrections are done — punctuation, spelling, missing words, and the occasional tweaking of a phrase. I also wrote a new (very short) chapter to add a tiny bit of semi-closure to one particular scene. I have two things left
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I was planning… something… when I typed the word “writing” into a Google search the other day. I’m not trying to be cagey, I just can’t remember what I originally planned to search for. I ended up going down a rabbit hole, instead. After I typed “writing” into the field, Google sprouted some of its handy-dandy suggestions, and the first
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Driving around downtown is a good way to spike your blood pressure, dirty up your vocabulary, and just generally make you wish that you could take everyone else’s licenses away. I’m sure that there are perfectly sane, totally normal people driving on these streets, but I can’t see them through the thundering herd of hostiles who all seem to be
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Heather Masterson 