I truly suck. I don't know why Birdie lets me stay.
Enough of dwelling on that. How about I dwell on getting a B (!!!) on my midterm. I don't GET that kind of grade. Doesn't happen. I take great notes, then TYPE them. I do all the reading. I've only got ONE FREAKIN CLASS, so it's not like I've got six bazillian class things to deal with, AND I test well. This has been eating at me all day, making me wonder if my mental decline - the one everyone in my family deals with eventually - has begun.
Chapter nine if finally started, anyway. I had to begin again when the stuff I wrote last week just wasn't right. What I had done was go back to when they were screaming at each other and pick it up from Kelsey's viewpoint. Pretentious. Unwieldy. Eh, I just started on the porch in the early, early morning with, "It was a beautiful night." Heh heh heh. Well it is, except for the dead people wandering around.
I still feel like this book is a load of crap, but I'm going to at least finish it.
The whiny story of slogging through writing my first novel.
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4 comments:
You don't suck!
You got a B -- so go talk to the instructor rather than berate yourself in isolation. Better to know than to wonder.
More than me -- I have accomplished little of note today. But the day's not over yet...
There are always times when it feels like crap, but do it anyway must be your mantra (I'm having that kind of time now, too, if it makes you feel any better). Must be the weather...
This is just a terrible week. Birdie cried all the way to work this morning. And again I remind myself to NEVER tell her how I feel about anything. Why do I drink? Because I've got a lot bottled up. (semi-intentional pun)
Don't bottle it up -- but choose times to release it when you can both digest the conversation. Communication is essential, but things long buried get harder and harder to dig up, and they can be blinding in the light.
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