Shoot for the Moon
Things I discovered while cleaning my office...
In 2008 I joined the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter 'Send your Name to the Moon' project and apparently, via microchip, off my name went...
I don't have a hole punch. What self respecting office doesn't have a hole punch?
Amongst the many notes of awesome story ideas/titles, I have a note saying - Coffee pg. 30 - huh! I suspect it's part shopping list (I'm so scatty I forget what I have to buy even if it's only one item) and what page I was up to reading/editing/something.
That I have a file with first drafts of short stories in and some of them may be saveable (the story about a field of hats and some Hells Angels maybe not so much). And that, there are no stories hanging from my Jingle Bell Line--possibly because the jingle bells were buried beneath awesome writing advice I'd printed from the internet.
Four new trays was never going to be enough.
I should figure out what the heck to do with all my old novels because I have paper everywhere. If only they weren't all saved to floppy disks and defunct computers. In theory, I should maybe bin them. What!!! OMG! Freak, freak, freak. Okay, won't do that then. I tried to persuade mum to type them up but she was having none of it. You just can't get the staff these days.
Dust makes me sneeze.
In 2008 I joined the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter 'Send your Name to the Moon' project and apparently, via microchip, off my name went...
I don't have a hole punch. What self respecting office doesn't have a hole punch?
Amongst the many notes of awesome story ideas/titles, I have a note saying - Coffee pg. 30 - huh! I suspect it's part shopping list (I'm so scatty I forget what I have to buy even if it's only one item) and what page I was up to reading/editing/something.
That I have a file with first drafts of short stories in and some of them may be saveable (the story about a field of hats and some Hells Angels maybe not so much). And that, there are no stories hanging from my Jingle Bell Line--possibly because the jingle bells were buried beneath awesome writing advice I'd printed from the internet.
Four new trays was never going to be enough.
I should figure out what the heck to do with all my old novels because I have paper everywhere. If only they weren't all saved to floppy disks and defunct computers. In theory, I should maybe bin them. What!!! OMG! Freak, freak, freak. Okay, won't do that then. I tried to persuade mum to type them up but she was having none of it. You just can't get the staff these days.
Dust makes me sneeze.
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