Et Cetera

It was winding up to be a pretty good night. I’m sad the weekend is already over, but I went through three more chapters and I broke the 138,000 word mark. That means 27,000 words have met their bitter end. Plus, chapter twenty-nine has the magic back and I still hacked some words. That was a tough chapter for me and I admit it made me sad even though I knew exactly what was coming.

I got a few boxes out of the living room and I have hopes it will one day look like a living room. That will probably be after I move, but I continue to hope.

I had to get all my medical bills together and I got most of those except the eye exams and glasses.

I may even have the kitchen clean. Yee haw!

On top of that, I squirreled around and came up with an intriguing, I think, idea. Rejection Letter Trading Cards. Think Pokemon or Magic only with agents and editors. Obviously, the attributes will be pretty rudimentary, but it should be fun. An agent gets to write their form rejection letter that goes with the card. If I can find some people willing to do some simple graphics, the cards will have artwork. They will also have ten magic attributes. So, when a person gets a rejection letter, they can lay claim to the agent’s trading card. Also, clients of agents can nominate them for a special card.

I think it will be fun and not overwhelming, if we get some help.

I should even have the laundry done and cookie dough made before I go to bed tonight.

To top it all off, I decided to go to the writer’s retreat.

So, why the sad face?

Because people drive me out of my rabid mind.

If I can figure out how the Sarmatians made horse hoof armor, you can figure out bull riders don’t ride with a rawhide handle and pine tar. A kid who has never been on a bull isn’t going to go out and win $15,000 riding one who has never been ridden. I don’t care who his father is or grandfather is. Bullriding is in the jeans not the genes.

That is not a rawhide handle in his hand, it’s a rope. It’s still a rope.

Don’t write a book about something factual if you can’t be bothered to do the most rudimentary research. This boggles my mind it was even published.

It drives me insane. Totally, rabidly insane. You wouldn’t like me when I’m insane.