It Had Better Be A Good Writing Night

[dr_pretentious]

After a long celebration of National Leftovers Day with two familial clusters, I am finally about to start my work day. I mean to get two thousand words out, despite my turkey-induced tryptophan haze. It's been a lovely holiday, but I'm a bit annoyed at myself that, as I sit here, I'm 7K behind.

One of the great pleasures of this Thanksgiving is that Dan's cousin tokeiwakamidesu, my favorite in-law, is crashing with Dan's parents, too. After yesterday's turkey binge, he and I sat beached in the living room, intending to write. He's working on a paper about some Roman poet I'd never heard of, and I'm working on a novel about international crises in countries that don't exist. It's very important work. Honest, it is. Anyhow, being a big fan of the bizarre funerary customs in the Big Book, tokeiwakamidesu badgered me into describing the bizarre wedding customs in the Little Book. "That's very Sondheim, in a way I can't quantify," he said. And, after a long pause, he added, "You're going to put that on your book cover as a blurb, right? Unquantifiably Sondheim?"

It might not be as straightforward as calling a book unputdownable or compulsively readable, but it would have the advantage of not being a blurb cliche.

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Comments

[dr-pretentious.livejournal.com]

You must have a hard time buying produce. Why is it that grocery stores attract employees who can't use the apostrophe? There's just something about the produce aisle that seems to make people want to form plurals with apostrophes.

O, apostrophe, thou most abus'd of of punctuation marks!