Words Every Day
So as I read "For Whom The Bell Tolls" and try not to write entirely in three-word sentences, I am also continuing to work on this beast, The Big One (not its title), and I read a Hemingway passage like this and oy:
"There is nothing else than now. There is neither yesterday, certainly, nor is there any tomorrow. How old must you be before you know that? There is only now, and if now is only two days, then two days is your life and everything in it will be in proportion. This is how you live a life in two days. And if you stop complaining and asking for what you never will get, you will have a good life."
That's pretty good! I also like Pilar as a character very, very much.
The rule (my rule) of writing a book is 800 words a day: sometimes more but never less. And there are days when it's no problem, but there are days when I hit the word count button a dozen times wanting to wriggle free. So in this big messy book I'm writing (see earlier posts for a description), one conceit is that a company called P.I.D. (for Phasing. Intonation. Duration.) has perfected a way to accumulate everything a singer ever sang during his or her lifetime and recreate the singer's voice, and have them say or sing anything you want. So popular music in 2050 in part consists of dead people like Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson putting out new original songs.
Why do I impart this nugget?
Because today, a day on which I hit the word count button *more* than a dozen times, it so happened it was Robot Prince's turn to sing a brand new and vaguely xenophobic song:
Girl he don’t love you like I do
He ain’t grown up in this town like us two
He don’t know what we been through
Send him back make this place just like new
34 words! Almost for free!
"There is nothing else than now. There is neither yesterday, certainly, nor is there any tomorrow. How old must you be before you know that? There is only now, and if now is only two days, then two days is your life and everything in it will be in proportion. This is how you live a life in two days. And if you stop complaining and asking for what you never will get, you will have a good life."
That's pretty good! I also like Pilar as a character very, very much.
The rule (my rule) of writing a book is 800 words a day: sometimes more but never less. And there are days when it's no problem, but there are days when I hit the word count button a dozen times wanting to wriggle free. So in this big messy book I'm writing (see earlier posts for a description), one conceit is that a company called P.I.D. (for Phasing. Intonation. Duration.) has perfected a way to accumulate everything a singer ever sang during his or her lifetime and recreate the singer's voice, and have them say or sing anything you want. So popular music in 2050 in part consists of dead people like Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson putting out new original songs.
Why do I impart this nugget?
Because today, a day on which I hit the word count button *more* than a dozen times, it so happened it was Robot Prince's turn to sing a brand new and vaguely xenophobic song:
Girl he don’t love you like I do
He ain’t grown up in this town like us two
He don’t know what we been through
Send him back make this place just like new
34 words! Almost for free!
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I listen to way too much Classic American Top 40 with Casey Kasem. I've envisioned a future where I could recreate my own AT40 songs complete with Kasem's voice and all of the bits he did. Long distance dedication, from the archives, etc. At some point in the next 10 years, I'm sure that this will be possible for some type of price.
A Friend of the opossum.