Rah rah rah

I've been immensely lazy these past few days. Truth is, I kind of went into a coma funk after I attacked finished too much of most of that Russian story I was working on (see here for the painful details) and realized that the stupid thing was over 4000 words long. Yes, four thousand. -plugs into online word counter- 4507 words, to be exact. (And 25444 characters. No, not the story characters, you imbecile, the letters/numbers/punctuation marks, etc. Geez. Not even the Iliad had 25444 separate characters, although LOTR might be a bit more on the mark. JRR Tolkien had a helluva lot of time on his hands. Er... off-topic? Sorryz. Sorry. Doubly so for the stupid typo. Damn, we're OT again. -forcibly closes parentheses-)

Anyways, the only reason I'm spazzing over my redonkulous word count is because I'm trying to get the stupid thing shaped up for a contest. Not that I expect to win it, of course (when was the last time I won a contest anyways? I think it was when I was in the womb. Fastest sperm cell, natch) but hey, it's the thought trying that counts. As Chronos will no doubt tell you if you bring up a little thing caled the TR Essay To Win A Newly Developed Character Or Something, I'm Not Really Sure, Because I'm Kind Of Allergic To These Kinds Of Games, And I've Never Understood Gaming Contests Anyway, And I Hate Writing Essays As A Byproduct Of Writing Too Many English/Asian Studies Papers On The Fly, By Which I Mean At Eleven PM The Night Before It's Due, Despite The Fact That I've Never Failed A Writing Assignment, And What Is Up With The Sentence Casing Nowadays? (-slaps self- Sorreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...)

Rah rah rah. -shakes head- Urh. That's what I say when I know I'm freaking people out and need to get back on track. Methinks I will be using it more often come August--you know what they say about sophomore year, namely that it will kill you dead and eat your liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. No, wait, that's Hannibal Lecter. Nvm.

Speaking of which, I haven't finished parts II, III, IV, and V of Operation Lit-ra-tchoo-rah, which means that I cannot start on Operation Literary Awesomeness, which will highlight the most... er... awesome literary creations in my long and overly extensive reading history. Such as Atticus Finch. -compassionate thumbs up- He is the epitome of chivalrous gentlemanliness. And Hannibal Lecter. -depraved thumbs up- He is the epitome of magnificent bastardry. And Lisbeth Salander. -badass thumbs up- Who is the epitome of, well, Lisbeth Salander. -cheeky grin- Etc etc ad nauseum, for maybe 5 female characters and 5 male characters, or however I choose to run this show. Look forward to it sometime before I turn 21. Aren't I productive.

Now to (belatedly) return to our original topic, I am rather ticked off because my wonderful horrible historical romance mash-up of pain and tears and Russian patronymics is over the contest's word limit. Now ordinarily I'd just rewrite the thing and post it up in about two weeks. (I write slow, I rewrite slower.) However, said contest ends on the last day of July, which is -checks calendar- two days from now. And the theme of the contest changes each month so who knows how long I'd have to wait before I got a theme correlating to my story and therefore qualifying me to enter. Who knows?! Well, maybe the Magic 8 Ball and maybe God (and definitely Chuck Norris, because Norris knows all) but holyfeckI'mgoingofftangent again rah rah rah. -deep breath-

Awkay. In words of two syllables or less, I have a story that is over the word limit for a contest that I want to join. Said contest ends in two days. I have two days to rewrite a story and cut out nearly one fifth of written material (BEEP BEEP BEEP THREE SYLLABLES AH WHO CARES). And I'm not even done yet. -weeps-

So yes, that is my plan for tonight tomorrow and... well, basically tomorrow. I will attempt to commit suicide via redrafting. When all's said and done, I've heard it's a terribly inconvenient way to off yourself, because the spell check gets in your way, but obsessively checking word count apparently does wonders for your level of aliveness. Which is to say that it lowers it. Drastically. And so on and so forth. -hums tunelessly-

Ciao, loves. Don't wait up for me, I've got a love story to rehash.

~Mnemosyne