So I'm sitting here, writing up a report (Gasp, not the story? And during the summer none-the-less?) for my summer class (Oh, there's the sense) when suddenly and violently my copy of Microsoft Word goes dead. I know, right? That's a dream killer.
Except I guess I use Microsoft Word and computers so much that I've just gotten into a habit of saving every time I stop writing. Not that any of that matters (cause I have auto-save set to like 5 minutes... I hate losing work), but the difference was definitely nice this time since the repair build wasn't a good copy but my 2 minute old copy was excellent. So go me, save some time, dance break!
Now back to what we all really care about, my other Word projects. Broken Falls, as my friend probably has been killing me to write more and more of, will be put on hold until after tomorrow. Why? Because I have a test tomorrow and so I don't think time spent writing a novel will be the best way of studying. So until then, bye bye writing and hello random notes!
With that said, Broken Falls has entered the final story stages. As I told my friend last night (and I know she still wants to kill me for this), I'm at the part where I feel there are lots of mysteries but not enough explanations. Its time to start pulling those mysteries together, showing how they are all solved, and giving the readers what they really want, a conclusion. I know, from me that's a freaking insane idea considering the last whole story I finished got me sent to the vice principals office. I'm not sure why, I thought my story was very nicely depressing... so why would they think I'm suicidal all of a sudden? Which reminds me, don't let copies of your suicidal novels fall into the hands of teachers, principals, loved ones, or generally anyone that you know. Seriously, they all take it as if you wrote a diary about it when in truth some stuff had to be made up to make a better story and they don't know the difference between reality and writing.
By the way, while on that subject, the teacher that got the copy and turned me in for it was totally stupid. She failed to realize that all normal high school students are depressed (Where the abnormal ones end up never achieving anything greater in life) and that writing was a way to let out the steam for them. When did she finally come to realizing this? When she taught the creative writing class and on one paper there were 28 sad, good, emotional stories, 1 terribly written and uninteresting happy story, and then my story which fell right into the omg poetically amazing but no one there cares cause it's a bunch of high school bastards. (I wonder if I still have that short story...). At any rate, moral of the story is all high school students are depressed as they should be.
By the way, I just checked all of my secret story hiding locations and I can't find that story. I found the story that got me in trouble but the other one seems to have disappeared. I'll send that story to my friend, she can read it I guess. (And on another 'nother note, I just found a creepy one that had an ending... I'll send that as well). I've been writing since high school, so the possibility that I have short stories completed is there (and a lot of them I remember but not as well as when I wrote them. My style has changed, my pen name is... well I don't have one yet... and its just kind of weird to look back and think I completed something (Even if it was short).
For reference, my longest completed story is 3,821 words and 5 pages long (42 KB of space) and my current story is 101, 110 words (I didn't make that up, its just weird on its own) and 133 pages long (376 KB of space). So a little bit bigger.
Alright, back to my report... then bed... then class... or something...
Words since last post: 599
Total Words: 101,110
