Monday, March 20, 2017

Note (tiny update)

Rum and coke was the first drink I ever had. First few times I tried, it only ever tasted like flat soda. Last night, I discovered that the right kind of rum practically caramelizes coke zero.

I had two drinks after switching off the borefest that was Iron Fist for Arrow. When my head was floating, I got the urge to reread Neuromancer and add a few more paragraphs onto my novel--which is what I did while sitting on Flip's lap.

Today, I remembered I'd left this note to myself midway through the chapter:

sorry future-Becca. Might be kinda drunk. Hence why this doesn’t make much sense

So much for, "write drunk, edit sober."

But see. I added that last bit as if what I'd written was totally worthless. And it's technically not. The writing is bad in a way that a first draft is allowed to be.

But. Yeah. This ain't a first draft. Which is why "write drunk, edit sober" doesn't apply to rewrites. You'd think tipsy me would have remembered that before I started slamming away at the keyboard.

Ugh. When will this rewrite enddddddd.

I'm on chapter 17. Halfway there? Who knows.

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"Science and science fiction have done a kind of dance over the last century... The scientists make a finding. It inspires science fiction writers to write about it, and a host of young people read the science fiction and are excited, and inspired to become scientists...which they do, which then feeds again into another generation of science fiction and science..."
- Carl Sagan, in his message to future explorers of Mars.