So Part Two of ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
kimnik's (Nikki Kimberling's) experiment in terror -- I mean, sample scene of passionate lovemaking -- is now up on her Live Journal.
This is where I gently suggest where she may have gone astray in her literary effort. And point out alternatives -- besides giving up writing.
kimnik's (Nikki Kimberling's) experiment in terror -- I mean, sample scene of passionate lovemaking -- is now up on her Live Journal. This is where I gently suggest where she may have gone astray in her literary effort. And point out alternatives -- besides giving up writing.
sick
Thank you, dear heart. Thank you for the card as well. I think it was the last thing I was able to concentrate on for some hours...
Now, now. All writing is writing. Non-fiction writers don't seem to get the gold and glory -- actually, they do get the gold, come to think of it. Non-fiction is far more lucrative than fiction.
Anyway, you do a great job with your reviews and interviews, and that is certainly "writing."
WE are delighted we were able to amuse.
It could just be me but you seem like you're sick a lot, Mr. MOM.
It's time for some orange juice or soup or something and more sleep.
I'm very sympathetic to Josh at this time until he recovers, but the thought of you calling him Mr.MOM somehow does not compute :)
I think that's covered. He's got like a SO or something.
the thought of you calling him Mr.MOM somehow does not compute
Ah, well I've kind of forced this whole mentor thing on him. I should probably feel bad about it, but I love it, and I've convinced myself he doesn't hate it, and someday I'll pay it forward, as it were, unless my prospective writing career goes down in a blaze of glory. Which it might.
And it was either Mr. MOM or Daddy Warbucks, but the latter just sounds kind of...wrong. Even if it would mean in addition to writing hella good reads, and being Super Mentorific, Josh could break into song at any moment.
I've made me a fortune, that fortune made ten.
Been headlined, and profiled again and again.
But something was missing, I never quite knew
That something was someone --But who?
Who would need me for me, need me for me alone?
The world was my oyster, but where was the pearl?
Who'd dream I would find it in one little girl?
Aw, Josh, you're too kind! And the voice ain't bad!
Really? I think I start to get sick a lot and then sleep and get over it. This is the first real head cold thingie I can remember -- I mean, that just knocked me on my ass -- since Christmas when I was sick for about five weeks. That was a real drag. This seems to be passing to the merely miserable stage quickly.
It's time for some orange juice or soup or something and more sleep.
Yes, the SO brought me the Dole magical elixir of orange-pineapple juice. Glass full of crushed ice...one sip and I start to feel better. When I start adding vodka to it, I know I'm well again.
When I start adding vodka to it, I know I'm well again.
*cough* Tim and Luke *cough*
I was inspired -- if that's the word -- to take tiny fragments of the original, your suggestions, and that "black fingernails" comment to write a Goth version of the scene.
It's just wrong on a different level -- Alien Sex Fiend on the stereo, the scent of patchouli and clove cigarettes, and the taste of absinthe. And my "writing" is a bad blend of the dual influences of straight romance novels and gay erotica. But I thought it was funny.
Except no Goth, would keep the name "Roger." He'd have to be called Remy or Severin.
(Did you know that Roger means "famous with a spear?")
What a great idea. I'm must drag myself over to peek in at the young lovers. *g*