Cause it's one of those women who is thinking she's deep and fucked up, when really, that's life, huh?
I'm experiencing that in my writing class. One woman is reading from her novel-in-progress, which people are fucking PRAISING, when all I can think is: (1) "You are the Mary Sue of PAIN, sweetheart," and (2) "You're not the only one who's experienced shit in her life, sweetheart."
But then I think perhaps I'm terribly mean.
I'd be inclined to think you're right, Tep. We share a brain so frequently. Unless she brought something really new to the table, in terms of telling the story. Cause some stories are more about the telling than what happens.At least, that is what I hope, since I so seldom have anything dramatic to write.
Oooh. I like to write while looking out the window. Particularly if I'm working on the laptop and riding in the car.
I'll have to try the monitor off thing at some point. Don't think it's a laptop option, though.
Okay, here's a question: When did "women" become an adjective? I flinch every time I see it, and it's getting old. ("Women faculty" being the most recent offender in my life. I mean, you wouldn't say "men faculty." What's wrong with "female"?)
Katie, good question and it sends me into bruxism code red, as well.
I mean, there've always been the "women drivers/men drivers" thing, but that's equal footing.
Fuckers.
(why yes, still cranky)
" But other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how'd you like the play?"
Well, at least I know that I'm not insane - or if I am, so are you. That's a relief.
(I also stress "ass" when I say harassment. I'm a wild woman!)
I'm a wild woman!
Dudesse, I tear tags of mattresses, without buying them first.
SCREW the penalty of law.
I still say nothing is worse than people being edgy for the sake of edgy, Deb. But what would you expect from a person who pined for the grimy old Homicide squad and creepy credits? Let's see, what's an edgy mystery thing I fucking hate...um, killers that have little-kid personalities that talk about Mommy burning them with cigarrettes. I'd rather read 400 cozies than one more of that, and you know my taste is for the hard-boiled at the moment. Ritualistic, loving description of murder is nauseating too. I mean, I get the rush of power thing, but some writers get a happy off it.