Mlou wrote:Great! Where IS that cafe, hyper, sounds like dizzy fun.

It's all in my mind, Mlou ....

Night with delicious beer,
watching the shadows
of drunken dragons
and trading glorious dreams.

I usually handwrite. I can actually write faster than I type. Then I scribble all over my drafts until I can hardly read them any more and I cave and type it out. Then I print it off and scribble on it some more. I can only sit in front of a computer screen for so long before my brain starts to shut...

I think to actually finish a project some (sublinal or concious) outline must come to mind. Otherwise, we would have a lot of stories where characters talk on and on in endless pratter, no? Isn't it a writers job to take the reader somewhere or someplace, not just to drop them into a conversation? ...

Spell Check drives me nuts. It doesn't deal well with Canadian spelling or chemical names. I MEANT to type colour, centre, 3,4-dimethoxybenzoic acid, NaOH .....

I have to turn off the red underline thing because it's too distracting.

I'd probably be residing in some kind of mental institution.

Dionysus, wow. That was amazing. I don't write much poetry but I thought I'd give it a shot: Out. Need to get out. I can breathe outside, storming through the streets, January air stinging my lungs, boots scrunching on the snow. No bags to carry, no hands to hold, no place to go. Out here I'm free.

For me, it depends upon what the theme or mood is at that point in the story I'm working on. So... I can't listen to God Smack if I'm trying to write a romantic scene... nor can I write a fighting scene while listening to Barry Manilow. Sometimes I like to listen to something totally opposite what ...

My inner critic often tells me I should find something more productive to do with my time.

Naturally I don't listen to advice like that

I was suffering from a bit of eye strain, and I thought I'd resurrect this thred. Kyle told me today I have bedroom eyes. I look in the mirror and my eyes look more bloodshot than anything. Rimmed in red, they ache from too much reading. Looking into my eyes, would you want to go to bed with me? If ...

I can't outline fiction. Absolutely cannot. I've tried repeadedly, and it just doesn't work. Then I find myself with all these bits and pieces and it's a struggle to figure out how they all fit together. For essays, I need an outline. But I hate when I have to hand it in. No one but me is supposed t...