From: annie@canetoad.UUCP (Annie)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: Annie's Writing Lesson II (was: thursday is strawberry.)
Distribution: world
Date: 27 Sep 92 20:59:21 EDT
Organization: The Satellite of Love


1. First drafts should never be posted.
2. Usually, the first one or two paragraphs of ANYTHING you write can
   be cut without, in any way, hurting the rest.
3. The rest of what you've written mey also be crap.

Again, I'm NOT flaming. Just some helpful tips for the beginning writer:

In article <80586@ut-emx.uucp> llama@pooh.cc.utexas.edu (sine nomine) writes:
>
>okay, so i'm sitting here in the lab, and it's sunday and that's cool.
>i mean, sunday is a day, and it's a nice day today, and the football
>games are all over so there's no need to fear walking out in the
>street anymore, even if my cat is a very lovely sort of warm biscuit
>color.
>
>my terminal is here, being a terminal, and i'm typing on it, which
>makes a great deal of sense, since the keys are white with little
>black letters. the payphone in the hall is watching me, i think, but i
>know better than to let on; the quieter i am, the more it'll let me
>post before it turns me in. i glance nervously at it from time to
>time.
>
>then i hear the noise.
>
>the nose noise.
>
>allergy-man is sitting next to me. every 4.3 seconds, he sniffs. not
>just a polite sniffle, but a horridly congested, terribly allergic,
>loud, wet sniff. the sort of thing that makes you shudder and reach
>for your own kleenex (he's brought an entire box with him, but he
>doesn't seem capable of using it).
>
>click. click. clickclickclick *sniff*
>aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh. 
>
>i want to tie him down and shove dristan up his nose. or maybe just
>suction his sinuses with a turkey baster. *sniff* it's insidious; i
>barely noticed it an hour ago, but now it wears away at me like the
>chinese water torture. i can hear his congestion. i am becoming one
>with his nasal mucus. i want him to die.
>
>i type faster, trying to catch the attention of the payphone. *sniff*
>the large arrow on the office window mocks me, knowing my plight. all
>the other terminals in the room are occupied; does no one else hear
>him? *sniff* 
>
>the light switch is here. maybe if i turned off the lights and
>simultaneously yanked the wires from the back of his terminal, he'd
>think there was a very localized power outage and go home. 
>
>if i knew his login, i could mail him a schematic demonstrating
>*sniff* proper kleenex use.
>
>my pulsebeats are slowing down, modifying themselves to fit in the
>rhythm of his sniffles. everything winds down... wait. *sniff* he's
>pushing away the keyboard. he's picking up his kleenex box.
>
>he stands up *sniff*. breathless, i wait. i sneak a glance at his
>terminal; blank! he's leaving. 
>
>clickclickclick.
>
>i can go back to wondering about the applesauce under the carpet now.
>the porcupines are rejoicing.

--
In my dreams, i can still see her there, in the light of the full moon,
my hands cupping her breasts in the protective shadow of the Tilt-a-Whirl.
--E. Andi Woods
...uunet!canetoad!annie                          canetoad!annie@uunet.uu.net
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre