For anybody who wonders where I get my wee little word count meters ...

... it's right here. I never have a problem with it going down, and it's cute and tiny just the way I like it. :)

My plans for today involve three chapters of Heroine Addiction for the agent-shaped person and 3200 words of This Way To The Egress for NaNo. (I've had that title lying around for ages but haven't had anything to use it for where it worked, but when I started writing yesterday I was like, "That ... actually kinda works this time. Huh.") I'm going to sprain something trying to get that much written, honest to God.

I already have something like 4000 words written for this month. It's a little ridiculous, because there's been some months this year where I didn't write that much. Heh.

A few links:

-- "Dad let me upload this. :D" This is fantastic. So there's this kid, Elliott. He's fourteen. He's been out for two years. He decided he wanted to go out for Halloween as Lady Gaga. So his mom did his makeup and per her, "His father accompanied him [to West Hollywood], dressed as his body guard. Elliott drew a crowd as he lip-synched and danced to Lady Gaga's music. He was ecstatic."

Dear bigoted fuckwits: THIS is why you're destined to lose.

-- Cake Wrecks displays some really great Twilight cakes. Yes, Twilight cakes. They're actually very nicely done.

-- It's a cookbook, or something: 14 types of Twilight Zone endings: It's pretty neat to see them boiled down like that.

-- The 6 Best Towns To Live in (If You Have a Death Wish)

URGH.

Dear Heroine Addiction,

I will give you a whole dollar if you write yourself. Seriously.

Sincerely,

Me

*

Dear This Way To The Egress,

Why you gotta so distractingly easy to write? Quit shaking your ass at me.

Sincerely,

Me

What the hell?

( SYTYCD )

This is why I should not be left alone with writing challenges.

A line from This Way To The Egress, describing the main character's college roommate (one of several):

Leslie is the serious cheerleader type, who's blond and fresh-faced and always reminds me of someone doing backflips on a beach in a tampon commercial. She doesn't smile, though, or sneer or frown or laugh. By the time summer rolls around, she will have said a grand total of twenty-seven words to me the entire year and executed three whole facial expressions.

I'm at something like 2900 words, so I'm closing up shop on that one for tonight to work on Heroine Addiction, which just wanted to throw a strop and not go anywhere. I presume that was out of jealousy over the shiny new literary tartlet waving her ta-tas at me and giving me a come-hither-and-write-me smile from the other side of the room.

... I really couldn't tell you when my writing process started looking so much like a lesbian love triangle.