Mr. Doe’s Butterflies

While Atlanta, Georgia suffers from mayoral stupidity (just my simple opinion), and the palm tree outside my window shivers under a WTF coating of ice, I will try my best to entertain you on this bleak Wednesday morning.

Fear not, I am in a much better humor today. There will be no bemoaning my existence in the world, no railing against the muses of smut. It might be boring but at least you shouldn’t need a drink after reading it.

Shall we start off with the Ticker to Madness? Yes, we shall! (don’t you love that word “shall”? It conjures up so many goodies in my brain. Of course it also conjures up a lot of strange looks when you actually use it real conversation, but I’ve begun to collect strange looks, you know, like dead butterflies. Take a picture of it, pin it to my wall and just soak in the utter creepiness of it… Ok, just kidding about that. I gave myself a strange look for that. Lol)

As of noon, with 3 ½ days left to go before the midnight deadline, the tote board of words is up to…

3,257 words!!

Of course I’ve written well over 5k on this story, but I’ve had to scrap a good deal of it as my plot matured into something actually good.

Today, besides punching out another big chunk of words, I’ve got to decide on these guys’ names. I think I’ve got my British guy down to one or two choices (Anyers vs. Knox), but my American man is still John Doe. I hate that.

But we’re not going to dwell on the negative today, are we? The crack about the mayor and poorly chosen dead butterfly metaphor notwithstanding, this is a happy blog, a cheery blog, even.

Apparently, it’s going to be a rather short blog as well. My creative juices are sluggish today, moving at the pace of maple syrup tapped from a particularly stubborn tree. I need to focus every drip of brilliance on the story, so if I’ve left you a little high and dry today, I sincerely apologize. I will try my best to do better tonight.

Until then…

Chloe… and Mr. John Doe

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