Branching out with my writing
Today? Face reality.
It’s nitty-gritty time in the writer’s workroom.
Yesterday’s [July 25] noble effort to ‘simplify’ has, of course, complicated things.
You’ve discovered a wealth of vivid characterization, intriguing plot points, and cogent, logical outlining…in freehand.
Time to digitize. Yes, type.
Fire up the Ninja Coffee Bar, cue up your ‘Gettin’ Stuff Done’ playlist, and launch into a keyboarding trance.
See you on the other side.
A day to simplify.
Those cheap notebooks [July 24]? Boon can morph into bane.
You’ve been forced to reassemble your Pulitzer Prize winner from a jigsaw puzzle of those 70-count darling-demons.
No virtual assistant can save you from this.
Can you guess?
Leap toward opportunity.
The siren’s song of 18-cent notebooks should send you straight to the back-to-school sales. [No worries about dodging kids. Frantic moms, on the other hand…]
Rise above regret today.
That cheese dust from the forbidden Cheetos [July 21] is gumming up your keyboard.
Go old school. Whip out a sharpened Ticonderoga #2 and a tablet and finish that chapter.
photo copyright Christopher Paulin
Or else your front door might be graced with some of these…
You’re welcome…;->
An exploration of a new genre is courageous, yet treacherous.
Your rhyming picture book on the merits of gratitude? Well, your writing group wasn’t grateful.
Forge ahead, but skip the couplets.
Leave the lame verse for the celebrities.
Today–reach out to people.
Plan your cookbook-signing.
Your biggest challenge: Finding an actual brick-and-mortar bookstore.
Alternatives? Set up a promotion table at the meat counter in Earl and Pearl’s Stop n’ Shop. [Better provide skewers and samples. Hungry shoppers don’t exactly sprout cash for text-on-paper.]
Next to the table, try something subtle, yet memorable.
“Portion-control is for wimps. Buy the whole book!”
Today is the day to find alternative gigs.
Start small. A skywriting company needs a proofreader.
Too ambitious? Seek out that children’s publisher of wordless books.
Your publishing company is off to a good start.
You’ve tracked down office space. [That spare lumber in the garage needed to be cleared out anyway.]
For those draining 400-word days, you’ll need that footrest. Rex the Wonder Retriever lies at the ready.
And every writer needs face time with an apathetic reader. Your tabby Whiskers is primed to ignore your every word.
Word Inventions