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Day by day
Jul. 8th, 2007 05:22 pmIf the purpose of spam is to evoke a reaction, then it's working; every day that passes, I hate and resent it more and more.
On the other hand, if the purpose of spam is to sell stuff, to generate business, then it's not working. I never have engaged with it, and never will. And yet, it will not go away. What does it remind me of? Oh, that's right: Mac the cat. If I have a plate of food, he never gives up and never goes away, just keeps coming back and back and back. Mac is spam.
(I can tin him nao, and sell him to little old ladiez...?)
In other news: I have been working. Lots. Last week I proofread a how-to book, and still wrote ten thousand words; the new book has just passed two hundred pages, sixty thousand words. That's coming up towards what should be halfway on a draft. As usual at this stage, I'm enjoying the day-to-day, really engaged with the individual characters and scenes, but I hate and fear the whole; I'm convinced I have written All The Wrong Words, taken the wrong approaches, avoided action wherever possible, etc etc. I ought to read it, just to reassure myself, but I dursen't, for I am a coward. I will blunder on, endwards.
Also - good grief! The sun is shining! It is warm! It is not bucketing down! I have spent time in the garden, creating new compost-beds. I've moved my Vietnamese coriander into one of them; it's a delightful herb - not of course a coriander, any more than it is a mint, which is the other name it's known by, but fabulous in soups and stir-fries, excellent as a garnish, anywhere you might actually use coriander - but it wasn't thriving in a pot in full sun, so I'll try it shaded.
Also, I must must must get someone to look at my roof, and mend the holes. Unhappily, I can not not not afford it. Is this the cleft stick of a dilemma?
On the other hand, if the purpose of spam is to sell stuff, to generate business, then it's not working. I never have engaged with it, and never will. And yet, it will not go away. What does it remind me of? Oh, that's right: Mac the cat. If I have a plate of food, he never gives up and never goes away, just keeps coming back and back and back. Mac is spam.
(I can tin him nao, and sell him to little old ladiez...?)
In other news: I have been working. Lots. Last week I proofread a how-to book, and still wrote ten thousand words; the new book has just passed two hundred pages, sixty thousand words. That's coming up towards what should be halfway on a draft. As usual at this stage, I'm enjoying the day-to-day, really engaged with the individual characters and scenes, but I hate and fear the whole; I'm convinced I have written All The Wrong Words, taken the wrong approaches, avoided action wherever possible, etc etc. I ought to read it, just to reassure myself, but I dursen't, for I am a coward. I will blunder on, endwards.
Also - good grief! The sun is shining! It is warm! It is not bucketing down! I have spent time in the garden, creating new compost-beds. I've moved my Vietnamese coriander into one of them; it's a delightful herb - not of course a coriander, any more than it is a mint, which is the other name it's known by, but fabulous in soups and stir-fries, excellent as a garnish, anywhere you might actually use coriander - but it wasn't thriving in a pot in full sun, so I'll try it shaded.
Also, I must must must get someone to look at my roof, and mend the holes. Unhappily, I can not not not afford it. Is this the cleft stick of a dilemma?