In more ways than one…
WordPress ate this entry. Blighter.
It was great, too because there was commentary about the guy who won the 200+ million dollar Powerball and why I can never win (it had something to do with God not wanting me to be an evil supervillian–people would think I’m cute and fluffy, but really… well, never mind), and how I realized I made a tragic, fatal, boo-boo in my contest entry with TRS. And this awesome bit about how I wanted to hide beneath a rock sans a long list of animals. It wouldn’t be right to retype all that, it just wouldn’t feel as meaningful to me now.
It was chock full of humor and wittiness (yeah, right). When I asked it to edit, it said I made no spelling error–a miracle and the first indication something wasn’t right. And then it wouldn’t go back from the proofread and when I tried to save the draft, poof, nothing, gone. Thanks WP, I hate you right now. But really, can you tell this blog is mostly verbal vomit with little-to-no thought going into it?
I’ve probably confunded the judges who’ll read TRS because the obvious choice for TRS’ category was steampunk romance. There’s nothing remotely steampunkish in the first chapter. No mention of airships, brass goggles, clockwork devices or other. Perhaps it leans toward paranormal more than steampunk. Perhaps it’s something weird that invaded my overstimulated brain and wouldn’t leave. Maybe it’s just too weird to classify. I will effectively baffle the judges, who will proceed to recommend I find the nearest trash can, paper shredder and box of matches. Or at least the proper category.
I don’t care what anyone says, I think the guy who won the lottery deserved to win. Sure, maybe he’s really evil and already spending his money on crack and hoes. But more like, he’s an average guy who needed a break and now he can afford to pay his electric and get new teeth. It made me really mad when my co-workers made fun of him for not having front teeth. Hey, we can’t all be beauty queens, all right? I mean, I have my frontsies, but two of my jaw teeth have pretty porcelain coverings because a) I’m vain and b) all that brushing was off set by my love of hard candy. Maybe he has a Pixie Stix fix, huh? It might not be because of meth. And just because he has two or three kids all with different moms doesn’t make him… okay well it makes him careless, but not a bad person. Pobody’s nerfect, geez. When you point a finger at someone else remember there are three more pointing back at you.
Well, that’s all I’ve got. Unless you wanted to hear about the minor amount of success I’m having with C&C, but I’m not mentioning that because I’m pretending like I’m not working on it because I don’t want to acknowledge that it might be moving forward–finally–after all this crap I have with it. Sorry, that was a run-on sentence. Even as it progresses, I’m already having these doubts that the story maybe should’ve started different and then I think, well instead of starting C&C different, why don’t I just do a different story altogether? It’s frustrating. I need to win Powerball so I can sit in my office with all the lights off, become a recluse and plot stories all day long. Hey, mister, can I borrow $100,000?