Loud Water Woman & Tongue Suck Girl
So, uh, writing's hard.
This stuff, that I do here, this is easy. But when I have to pay attention to things like plot and character and stuff? Wow. How do those guys do that? For instance, you know what I suck at? Describing people. What they look like and stuff. "He was tall, yet clean." That's about as good as I can get. "He had hair. It was brown." Or, "He was real, real, real good looking."
Yeah: I'm totally going to be famous.
I've been working on this book thing, and I have this goal in mind that I'll have a complete rough draft by the end of February. And I love how I picked the underachiever month, the one that can't even see it's way to being a full 30 days long. But there you have it: my goal. By February 28 I should have a finished book that needs to be edited. And then edited some more. And then, I'll no doubt cry, abandon the whole thing, come back to it like an abused spouse, cry some more, and finally either the book will be done or I will. I'm crossing my fingers that it's going to be the book.
I decided to try writing at the library today. For those not in the know, the Bethesda library is lovely, and has this quiet room in the back that's all glass-walled like the future. And quiet. Or supposed to be. Because it's the Quiet Room; I mean, it even say so on the door: No cell phones, no beverages, and no Fritos. Only I think the Fritos are supposed to stand in for all food. So there's this whisp of a blonde gal sitting two stations in front of me, and she has brought the loudest water ever. Every time she drinks from it, she squeezes the sides so it makes these gadawful popping sounds like rifle shots and I jump. I've tried eye contact. I've tried giving her the stink-eye. And I've made several exasperated-type noises, but to no avail. I think I will make this woman a character in my book and then have something dreadful happen to her. But she's already living with a pretty dredful dye job; what more, really, could I do to her?
Anyway, take that, Loud Water Woman.
There's a young Asian Mathlete in here with me (and that's totally not stereotyping; he's got graph paper, 2 calculators, and a calculas textbook the size of my head), and we've both been trying to get the attention of this other young woman who is making loud sucking sounds on some kind of hard candy. Or her tongue. The Nigerian man sitting directly across from me and to the right has joined the Mathlete and me in our Tell-Tale hate. I mean, can she not hear that? Does she think it's a soothing, gentle sound, this sucking noise she's making? 'Cause it's really, really not. It's actually really Really IRRITATING!
If I end up not being able to finish my novel, it's totally going to be because of Loud Water Woman and the Tongue Suck Girl.
This stuff, that I do here, this is easy. But when I have to pay attention to things like plot and character and stuff? Wow. How do those guys do that? For instance, you know what I suck at? Describing people. What they look like and stuff. "He was tall, yet clean." That's about as good as I can get. "He had hair. It was brown." Or, "He was real, real, real good looking."
Yeah: I'm totally going to be famous.
I've been working on this book thing, and I have this goal in mind that I'll have a complete rough draft by the end of February. And I love how I picked the underachiever month, the one that can't even see it's way to being a full 30 days long. But there you have it: my goal. By February 28 I should have a finished book that needs to be edited. And then edited some more. And then, I'll no doubt cry, abandon the whole thing, come back to it like an abused spouse, cry some more, and finally either the book will be done or I will. I'm crossing my fingers that it's going to be the book.
I decided to try writing at the library today. For those not in the know, the Bethesda library is lovely, and has this quiet room in the back that's all glass-walled like the future. And quiet. Or supposed to be. Because it's the Quiet Room; I mean, it even say so on the door: No cell phones, no beverages, and no Fritos. Only I think the Fritos are supposed to stand in for all food. So there's this whisp of a blonde gal sitting two stations in front of me, and she has brought the loudest water ever. Every time she drinks from it, she squeezes the sides so it makes these gadawful popping sounds like rifle shots and I jump. I've tried eye contact. I've tried giving her the stink-eye. And I've made several exasperated-type noises, but to no avail. I think I will make this woman a character in my book and then have something dreadful happen to her. But she's already living with a pretty dredful dye job; what more, really, could I do to her?
Anyway, take that, Loud Water Woman.
There's a young Asian Mathlete in here with me (and that's totally not stereotyping; he's got graph paper, 2 calculators, and a calculas textbook the size of my head), and we've both been trying to get the attention of this other young woman who is making loud sucking sounds on some kind of hard candy. Or her tongue. The Nigerian man sitting directly across from me and to the right has joined the Mathlete and me in our Tell-Tale hate. I mean, can she not hear that? Does she think it's a soothing, gentle sound, this sucking noise she's making? 'Cause it's really, really not. It's actually really Really IRRITATING!
If I end up not being able to finish my novel, it's totally going to be because of Loud Water Woman and the Tongue Suck Girl.
posted by Mike at 7:09 PM
3 Comments:
I am a supporter of library hate. I like to believe I've honed my glare so it can cut through even the soul of even the most oblivious gum smacking, toe tapping spaz.
Also, I guess I should put links up, huh? Will do soon-- didn't mean to leave you hanging like that.
I must some day sit at your knee of learning so that I, too, can more effectively library hate.
When the student is ready the teacher will come.
why do they even let native americans in libraries anymore? it's our land now!
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