Writing Wrongs

June 24, 2005

The other day, Andrew was giggling at his image reflected in the side of my car (probably because I had just taken it through the car wash and you could now actually see an image in its finish). In the reflection, he was about two feet tall and four feet wide. And he said:

This is how Iíd look, Mommy, if you didnít take that good care of me, if you let me eat lots of junk food.

Uh, now wouldnít be the time to mention how I let him and his sister polish off a bag of Goldfish at my parentís the other day.

So Iím putting together a working synopsis for The Boysí Club. I know itís far too long at this point. Itís in the handheld computer so I canít do a word count, which is just as well, because then Iíd freak. Iím telling myself itís only a working synopsis, that I want to see if I can present the story in narrative summary. Thing is, right now, itís like Andrewís car reflection. Sure, itís the short version, but itís far to fat.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 11:54 a.m.

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