Day 11 was yesterday but yours truly was a Plus 1 at a shmancy dinner for the world’s pre-eminent Romanian writer where many glasses of red wine were imbibed along with a pork chop the size of Texas. Did I do my dirty thirty in the afternoon. The fuck I did. Was it pretty? No. Was it interesting? Not really. It was a meat and potatoes two paragraphs that need to be rewritten but decent in that it forwarded my plotless plot.
Are you still with me?
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Yup, still here and wondering…do you get to take home a pork chop shmancy doggy bag and if you could, would you? Oh the shame of leftovers when eating on tables covered in linen.
Yes! Managed to incorporate “a cloud of bandages,” a rabbit chewing on the molding and the quote “Let me be boiled to death with melancholy.”
Oh yes. Definitely with you.
Yesterday before I left I was able to accomplish at least the 30, (ha, I love the “dirty thirty” phrase) and that involved moving some sentences around, enhancing a few, etc. It all counts toward that end goal.
Fair amount of truancy this week but still with you. Does going through manuscript figuring out where and who to revise count?
Yes, with you. But really I just want the pork chop.
Yes! Although yesterday’s writing involved a lot of internal kicking and screaming.
Yes. Last night, before the clocks were set back, I struggled through my 30 minutes with bleary eyes and a bottle of “robust” porter. The words were all blurry and hazy on the page (writing with pen and paper) and I may have fallen asleep once or twice; it was great!
Doing it. Right now. Thirty or bust.
Ooh baby, here I am
Signed, sealed, and delivered, I’m yours!
Hi, Betsy, Illustrating my theory that there are only 100 people in the world, my cousin, Merrie Blocker, sat across from you last night at the shmancy dinner! Hope you’re fine. Regards, Susan
SRF
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Merrie was absolutely intriguing! Hope you are well. xoxo