Writing Wrongs

December 17, 2004

The other night I was cleaning out Andrewís backpack when I came across a book heís writing. Hereís the preface for the reader:

Dear Reader,

Iím sorry. Thereís no way that you can put down this book. Because if you do. Horrible stuff will happin. So start reading this.

So thatís what Iíve been doing wrong all this time. Hereís a way to raise the stakes that I donít think even Donald Maass (agent and author of Writing the Breakout Novel) has considered. I mean, who wants bad stuff to happin?

Speaking of bad, or at least unsettling stuff, I tried to give blood the other day and found out Iím on permanent deferral. Huh? Anyone who lived on western European military base from 1980 to 1996 can no longer give blood due to the ever-so-slight risk of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease (AKA mad-cow disease).

Apparently, the military bought beef from the U.K (aha, the light goes on). Thereís your beef in the mess hall, beef from the commissary, beef in the field mess. The list goes on, Iím sure.

Personally, I donít think itís anything to worry about, but since there isnít a blood test, the Red Cross must be extra careful in screening.

Writing Progress: Despite the busy time of year, Iíve been writing, and recently had the epiphany that I need to write The Boysí Club without a safety net. In other words, I need to stop worrying what others might think of it and simply write.

What Iím Reading: Still working on Lost in a Good Book along with some snippets of Super Diaper Baby courtesy of Andrew.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 11:41 a.m.