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  1. My inability to think of a title is actually distracting me from my writing. Not that I should be doing either of those things right now. I need to be at work in less than six hours and I haven't slept yet.

    I don't know... I'm almost done with the story, and it still hasn't presented itself to me. I'm gonna have to beat it out of him (because my story is totally a he...) if this goes on for much longer.

    There are certain things I want the title to include in some way: Dogs, Quid Pro Quo, making stories for yourself, reinventing yourself and college. See my problem? What kind of title is that supposed to make?

    The story is about a guy and a girl who after the death of their respective fathers decide to reinvent themselves as they enter college. One wants to calm down, become a good guy. The girl wants to live more, experience the world and actually do things. They find changing is not easy, and decide to help each other out. To my surprise there is very little love in the story. I like how they ended up more brother and sister like than lovers as I had originally planned.

    Thought writing the story down like that would help me see something... it didn't. I'm just whining.
  2. A little punctuation abuse there. I'm sorry exclamation and question mark.

    I need to rant a little here. I had a great premise for a story, but couldn’t really think of a plot of any kind. Around the forum here, I've seen a lot of people saying they prefer to just make stuff up as they go, not knowing the ending or what will happen next. I decided to give it a try. It does not work for me. At all!

    Actually, I don't understand how it can work for anyone. It just feels like nothing I write has any goal or greater purpose and everything that happens is the most predictable things you can imagine. I figured maybe the greater plot would come to me as I kept on going, but it hasn't. I just reached the 20K mark, which is when I reread what I have written for the first time. It kind of sucks. The story itself actually isn't too bad, but it seriously needs some direction, which I cannot give it before I know the destination. I think half of what I have needs to go, and the rest needs to be rewritten.

    At least the characters are well developed. No thanks to the story. They have all been used several times before in other stories which have been scrapped. It's normal for me to reuse a character or two, but in this case, absolutely every character is a reuse. It's kind of fun, and makes me more determined to keep going. I love these characters, and I want a complete story for them.

    So yeah, that's my rant.
  3. I rarely write poetry. And when I do, it's usually pretentious crap. But when sitting on the grass today, waiting for my dad to pick me up, these... things happened.

    My Toes are Pretty

    My toes are pretty
    Not long and bony
    Like on those anorexic phonies

    My toes are pretty
    Not short and stubby
    Even though I'm a little tubby

    My toes are pretty
    My toes are as pretty
    as this rhyme makes no sense

    Public Bathroom

    Oh public bathroom
    So filthy
    So stinky
    Who used you?
    And abused you?
    Poor thing
  4. Happy 17 May!

    For most of you this is just an ordinary day, but for all of us Norwegians out there, it's our national day! This date in 1814, Norway got their own constitution. And how do we celebrate this? With hotdogs, and boy, I won't be eating hotdogs again for a year. Seriously!

    Anyway, been a pretty good day. Got up early to see my cousins walk in the kids parade, where everyone between the ages of 0-19 and people in marching bands walk in a parade wearing pretty clothes and sing a bunch of songs. Then if they're lucky enough to live in the capital, they get to wave to the royal family. I'm not so lucky and instead live in a rather small city. Note that I'm not really upset about that, just being stupid.

    My oldest cousin is ten, and he didn't want to attend the school thing at his sister's school, so the two of us went to the fair that comes around every year. We discovered the Hulk has been replaced with Spiderman. Okay, more to explain. This fair brings the same rides about every year, though occasionally they switch it up a little. The Hulk is a ride known in our town for being awesome yet extremely painful. Because you are pushed against a steel railing. Spiderman is pretty much the same ride, but it's padded! So still awesome but not painful.

    When it started raining we took the disco cups, which is basically tea cups but there's disco music, because there's a roof over that ride. It rained for a long time and we both ended up throwing up. Then, as the intelligent beings we are, we went and bought cotton candy and ice cream. Then we got free hotdogs. Then more ice cream. Then some more rides. He threw up again. One more ice cream each.

    Then we went to grandma and grandpa who fed us, guess what, hotdogs and ice cream. Then it got boring with all the adults, so I took both my cousins to my place where we played Little Big Planet. Then the youngest got tired and I took her home, returned, and then we played Modern Warfare instead. But being only 10, he got tired at 9:30 so I took him home as well.

    I didn't feel like going home yet, so I walked to my friend's job because I knew she would be off at ten. We rented a movie, Repo Men, an okay movie, then I went home and collapsed on my bed and struggled to get the laptop and write this.

    In conclusion, it's been a good day
  5. It was a story I started when I was 14. I loved it back then, but I always had a problem. The character and I were too different. I loved poetry and flowery description back then. The character really didn't. She'd be at the mall, and I wanted her to tell what it was like. The sounds, the smells, the sights, the people. She then turned to me, raised an eyebrow, and flipped me off.

    Seven years later, and I have through years of trial and error adapted a much simpler style of writing. More to-the-point and clear. I hoped that now she could cooperate with me. I started all over again. At ten thousand words, she stopped me to say, “this isn't working out. It's not you, it's me. I'm simply too awesome a character for you to write, and you're simply not skilled enough yet.”

    I ran her over with a bus