Meanwhile, in Writing Land
Jan. 20th, 2012 02:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breezeshadowI hate when I'm writing something and I can TELL I'm going to have to revise it. Like... The prose reads like a movie script, the emotions just don't feel right, the entire thing just isn't in the mood and setting it's supposed to have. Poor Hafstra, your final scene is supposed to feel stronger than this. I think I'll back away from it and let it simmer in my head.
Also. Morningstar Farms meatballs: meh. THe flavour is too strong and the texture is all wrong. But Morningstar Farms veggie dogs? The flavour is just strong enough and the texture is perfect. I suppose it IS easier to mimic horrified processed shit. Oh well. Omnom!
She did not go to her office immediately; her stomach ached from the rocky ride in the carriage to work, and so instead she turned further down the hall and to the kitchen. She did not often use it, preferring to focus more on her work than on escaping it, but there was a small table with a few chairs to sit, and the stove warmed the entire room. The kettle was already filled with water, no doubt by one of the secretaries in the early morning, and the few mugs remaining washed clean. Rose May set the kettle on the stove and grabbed one of the silver tea infusers, stained with age, resting in a basket beside the stove.
So yeah. Think I'll play some video games now. And hope my mouth stops hurting.
Tschuess.
Also. Morningstar Farms meatballs: meh. THe flavour is too strong and the texture is all wrong. But Morningstar Farms veggie dogs? The flavour is just strong enough and the texture is perfect. I suppose it IS easier to mimic horrified processed shit. Oh well. Omnom!
She did not go to her office immediately; her stomach ached from the rocky ride in the carriage to work, and so instead she turned further down the hall and to the kitchen. She did not often use it, preferring to focus more on her work than on escaping it, but there was a small table with a few chairs to sit, and the stove warmed the entire room. The kettle was already filled with water, no doubt by one of the secretaries in the early morning, and the few mugs remaining washed clean. Rose May set the kettle on the stove and grabbed one of the silver tea infusers, stained with age, resting in a basket beside the stove.
So yeah. Think I'll play some video games now. And hope my mouth stops hurting.
Tschuess.
