I am writing a new Thor origin story.
“I worked out really hard to get big and fit.
AND NOW I AM THOR!”
Cook to perfection
I saw this line in a recipe: “Cook to perfection or until brown on both sides.”
Of course, I imagined this: someone’s cooking chicken. It’s lovely. It smells wonderful. They turn up the heat a little bit, and flip it over. Now they start to get a little anxious. Is it brown enough? Or has it gotten too brown? Is it sticking in the pan? IS IT PERFECT?
Then they remember : it’s cook to perfection, OR UNTIL BROWN. And THIS is certainly some shade of brown. They briefly contemplate writing a “50 Shades of Brown” cookbook before moving on to the next step in the recipe.
I’ll bet Chuck Wendig doesn’t have these kinds of problems when HE’S cooking.
A simple plot
I have a crazy plot that JUST might work. I’m going to get up at 8:30 tomorrow morning, and try to convince everyone around me that it’s REALLY 7:30. I only have to convince several million people to reset their clocks for me to pull this off.
Wait. You mean they’ve already DONE it? EXCELLENT!
The heart wants what the heart wants
Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants.
And tonight the heart wants picante chicken ramen.
Oh, wait. That would be what the stomach wants.
I’m OK with that.
The scariest Hallowe’en story EVER
I’m writing the scariest Halloween story ever. It’s about a writer who writes the scariest Halloween story ever and dies just before hitting SEND.
Do the Plot Twist!
I may need to write a story sometime about a writer who inadvertently starts a new dance craze called the Plot Twist.
Sleep behaviors
Dogs twitch in their sleep sometimes. Cats extend their claws. I just had a demonstration of that by the cat who was sleeping in my lap.
Clash of… Clams?
I have been seeing ads on Facebook for a game called CLASH OF CLANS.
It makes me want to design a video game called CLASH OF CLAMS. Picture it: a sandy beach, and clams in competition with mussels, crabs, lobsters and starfish for ULTIMATE BEACH DOMINATION.
Pinball wizards
I’ve figured this out. My cats are the pinballs in the pinball machine that is my house. Imagine a 15 pound furry pinball careening around, claws out, randomly knocking things over, and you get the idea.
Another road less traveled by
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And I took the one paved in brick to match
And that is how I wound up in Oz.