Last time I talked a little bit about how I see my day-to-day routine. Little things make me go, "What if...". I realized after I wrote it that I may... perhaps... seem a little paranoid. I want to assure you, I'm not paranoid, I'm just curious about alternate possibilities.
Here's a fun example. Yesterday I opened at work. We prepare our onions, cut by hand, every morning. They are fresh and yummy (and a big pain in the butt to do). I was peeling the paper skin off when a cloud of white dust poofed out of the onion in my hand, startling me.
Here was my thought process:
What was that? What if that was anthrax? No, that's silly, there's no anthrax in these onions. Wait, are these foreign onions? Are onions in season in the States right now? What if it's a foreign onion? What if it carries the seeds of some strange, buried prion or something? Holy crap, what if that turns me into a zombie? Do I feel like a zombie? I wonder how many people I'd infect before being taken down.
From there, it was an experiment in how I think a zombie outbreak would look, with the epicenter being my sleepy little Ohio town.
I think you get the point by now... basically, I feel like I'm always considering what could happen, and in thinking about it, I entertain myself. Greatly.
Until middle school, I was always able to fall asleep on a dime. I could close my eyes and I was gone. If it was bedtime, I was asleep. I didn't argue or ask questions, I simply laid down and that's all she wrote! As for what I wrote - whenever the mood struck me, on any topic and for any length of time until I was bored/done with it.
In middle school, I made the worst decision of my young life. I joined Power of the Pen. It was a competitive writing group (we actually went to competitions!). You'd be given about two hours to write, and everyone would be given the same topic. Some competitions, you'd do this two or even three times (yes, six hours of writing by hand). We also met weekly to talk about writing, how to improve, et cetera.
My writing was deemed not entirely acceptable in this setting. I am just not good at being given a topic and told to write on it - especially on a time limit. I made the team... barely. I was second alternate. Basically if someone got sick, I still wouldn't write. If two people got sick (inconceivable!) I might have a chance to get into the competition. However, I was assured, this had never happened in all the history of PotP. (Be ready to hear that more, 'in all the history of PotP')
So, of course, it happened with our last writing competition. I had gone all year glumly cheering my team on from the sidelines. I didn't want to cheer, I wanted to write! It was why I had joined in the first place. I smiled as best as I could, but my heart was heavy. When I was told that for the first time ever, the second alternate would be permitted to join the competition, I literally bounded about, an unbridled source of joy and energy. I thought my heart would explode, because it was far too small to contain my happiness.
I wrote with all my fervor that day. I remember my topic, "Write a story based around the idea 'Just wait 'til your father gets home!'" I wrote a story about a kid finding a little alien and causing a lot of mayhem with it. The boy took credit for the alien's misdeeds. The mom got angry and made the exclamation. It was unpolished, unfinished, maybe a little ugly, but I wrote with everything I had.
At the grading ceremony, our team was all set up to win the whole competition. Story after story was rewarded with stellar marks. Then, my story, graded last. How apropos. I received the worst marks in history, for our club. We lost the competition. We didn't go home with any awards. I was devasted; my team was furious. My friends would not longer speak to me. I cried like any heartbroken child would.
The next week at school, my English teacher (Vice President of PotP) approached me about my scores. "Your writing is terrible," she informed me. "You received the worst marks, ever, in the history of our club. I don't even want to look at you right now. You will never be a writer. Never. You should give it up. Do something you're actually good at, like math. Spare yourself the embarrassment, and don't write anymore." Then she walked away, red tresses flowing behind her in the cryptic winds of the hallway.
My heart was in my shoes. It was beneath my shoes. It was dripping in rivulets down through the dirt to burn up in the core of the earth, never to be recovered. I cried, right there and quietly through the rest of the day. I swore off writing. I packed up all the stories and ideas I was working on, clenched my jaw and gave up.
Less than a week later, the insomnia started.
This is my place to vent and extrapolate on personal matters. I may also talk about my life as an indie writer. For strictly release information, please click "here".
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Shorty Before Bed
I would like to take a moment out of my day to point over to my sidebar there and ask you to notice #3, 5, 7 and 9 of My Pledge.
There is no new content today, as I spent my allotment of "writing time" poring over the suggestions of my editors-in-writing.
This is a very, very, very mission critical thing for any writer to do. If you do not have at least 3 people read over your manuscript then read very carefully.
FIND THREE PEOPLE TO READ OVER YOUR MANUSCRIPT.
Someone in that group is bound to catch at least one detail you missed. If they do, it's one less screw-up the world knows you made.
Here's to making a story all it's meant to be. Cheers, editors!
There is no new content today, as I spent my allotment of "writing time" poring over the suggestions of my editors-in-writing.
This is a very, very, very mission critical thing for any writer to do. If you do not have at least 3 people read over your manuscript then read very carefully.
FIND THREE PEOPLE TO READ OVER YOUR MANUSCRIPT.
Someone in that group is bound to catch at least one detail you missed. If they do, it's one less screw-up the world knows you made.
Here's to making a story all it's meant to be. Cheers, editors!
Curing the What Ifs...? (or: How I Learned My Insomnia Could End), Part 1
I know I had kind of a negative post yesterday, so I'm sorry about that. I think every writer goes through it at some point. I also believe bad writers don't, and that's why I haven't enjoyed a number of books I've read in the past.
I don't work a high-end job (even with my fancy college education). I deliver pizza. Most of the people I work with freely admit that they use books only for the purpose of even-ing out that short leg on the dining room table. But, as a matter of social politeness, I ask them about their kids/pets/cars/spouses/that thing they mentioned last time we talked... and they ask me about my book.
In general, I am thinking about three things: 1. Food. (I love to eat. And read. And eat while reading.) 2. My family (love you guys!). 3. My book. But, I can think about these three things, because I have discovered my own personal cure for the What Ifs.
I mentioned my co-workers, because when they ask me about how "that book thing you're working on is going" and I say something along the lines of "I broke 30k words yesterday"... it kind of kills the conversation. I often get uncomfortable or shocked reactions to the progress in my writing. I've had them say, "I don't think I could put one hundred words together" and I think to myself, "You couldn't write a paragraph?"
That paragraph was 75 words, by the way.
They also ask me questions like, "How can you think up these things?" This puzzled me. For a long time, I thought it was something anyone could pull out. It's not hard for me to turn a mundane situation into the extraordinary. I call this the What Ifs. You take a situation and then you say, "But what if..."
Here is an example:
A man is going to work and is waiting on a subway platform.
Okay, so now let's think of some What If statements.
A man is going to work and is waiting on a subway platform.
What if he notices that his train, which runs on a very exact schedule, is two minutes early?
What if he steps on that train anyway, believing it to be his?
What if, once through the door, he finds himself not on the train, but in a forest?
What if he turns around and can still see the platform behind him?
What if the door closes and he's left in the jungle?
What if he's stepped into an alternate dimension (or: through an alien portal?)
What if his technology (cellphone, laptop, ect) don't work?
What if they DO?
What if they become magical!
What if, magical, they allow him to summon demons????
This is my thought process. It took me about two minutes to do that, because I can only type 90wpm.
That's how my brain works. I constantly have these kinds of thoughts racing through my head.
What if, when I go to pay for my groceries, there's a snake in my bag?
What if, that elderly gentleman coming down the street were to stop and shake my hand? What if he told me he knew my grandfather in "The Orange"? What if "The Orange" meant the CIA?
What if that payphone rang? What if the voice on the other end told me it was God calling?
What if that boy ran out in the street after that ball he's kicking? What if an angel saved him? What if I saw it?
All the time, these things go through my head. If I don't have some sort of outlet they gradually get louder and louder until I am awake in the early hours of the morning, begging for sleep. I had to find a cure. I'll stop here for now, and append a {Part 1} on the end. I'll talk about my cure in {Part 2}! To be continued :)
Part 2
I don't work a high-end job (even with my fancy college education). I deliver pizza. Most of the people I work with freely admit that they use books only for the purpose of even-ing out that short leg on the dining room table. But, as a matter of social politeness, I ask them about their kids/pets/cars/spouses/that thing they mentioned last time we talked... and they ask me about my book.
In general, I am thinking about three things: 1. Food. (I love to eat. And read. And eat while reading.) 2. My family (love you guys!). 3. My book. But, I can think about these three things, because I have discovered my own personal cure for the What Ifs.
I mentioned my co-workers, because when they ask me about how "that book thing you're working on is going" and I say something along the lines of "I broke 30k words yesterday"... it kind of kills the conversation. I often get uncomfortable or shocked reactions to the progress in my writing. I've had them say, "I don't think I could put one hundred words together" and I think to myself, "You couldn't write a paragraph?"
That paragraph was 75 words, by the way.
They also ask me questions like, "How can you think up these things?" This puzzled me. For a long time, I thought it was something anyone could pull out. It's not hard for me to turn a mundane situation into the extraordinary. I call this the What Ifs. You take a situation and then you say, "But what if..."
Here is an example:
A man is going to work and is waiting on a subway platform.
Okay, so now let's think of some What If statements.
A man is going to work and is waiting on a subway platform.
What if he notices that his train, which runs on a very exact schedule, is two minutes early?
What if he steps on that train anyway, believing it to be his?
What if, once through the door, he finds himself not on the train, but in a forest?
What if he turns around and can still see the platform behind him?
What if the door closes and he's left in the jungle?
What if he's stepped into an alternate dimension (or: through an alien portal?)
What if his technology (cellphone, laptop, ect) don't work?
What if they DO?
What if they become magical!
What if, magical, they allow him to summon demons????
This is my thought process. It took me about two minutes to do that, because I can only type 90wpm.
That's how my brain works. I constantly have these kinds of thoughts racing through my head.
What if, when I go to pay for my groceries, there's a snake in my bag?
What if, that elderly gentleman coming down the street were to stop and shake my hand? What if he told me he knew my grandfather in "The Orange"? What if "The Orange" meant the CIA?
What if that payphone rang? What if the voice on the other end told me it was God calling?
What if that boy ran out in the street after that ball he's kicking? What if an angel saved him? What if I saw it?
All the time, these things go through my head. If I don't have some sort of outlet they gradually get louder and louder until I am awake in the early hours of the morning, begging for sleep. I had to find a cure. I'll stop here for now, and append a {Part 1} on the end. I'll talk about my cure in {Part 2}! To be continued :)
Part 2
Dragging Frustration
Pardon this rant.
I've written three chapters in the past two days.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think that's horrible, but I don't feel so happy about. When I broke 20k, I thought over and over, I only have 30k left! That's easy!
But now I'm really in the mire of the story. These chapters are more and more important as the book progresses. A few days ago, it really, really switched to the action. These pieces need to be just right. Now, looking at my almost 34k work, I think, how will I finish the next 16k?!?
It's so close. I'm so close! But, my writer's panic is flaring up (a real condition, I'd wager!). What if it's not good enough? What if it's not as good as before? What if NONE of it's good! (Cue exit of hair follicles).
I know I am probably psyching myself out. I know my As-written-editors are clawing at me to get the next chapters.
Just gotta breathe. Just gotta finish.
Fun Fact: This will be my first finished for-pleasure work since 2005. I have well over a dozen beginnings of other stories, but I've really stuck with this one. Almost, almost to the end. Just gotta breathe!
I've written three chapters in the past two days.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think that's horrible, but I don't feel so happy about. When I broke 20k, I thought over and over, I only have 30k left! That's easy!
But now I'm really in the mire of the story. These chapters are more and more important as the book progresses. A few days ago, it really, really switched to the action. These pieces need to be just right. Now, looking at my almost 34k work, I think, how will I finish the next 16k?!?
It's so close. I'm so close! But, my writer's panic is flaring up (a real condition, I'd wager!). What if it's not good enough? What if it's not as good as before? What if NONE of it's good! (Cue exit of hair follicles).
I know I am probably psyching myself out. I know my As-written-editors are clawing at me to get the next chapters.
Just gotta breathe. Just gotta finish.
Fun Fact: This will be my first finished for-pleasure work since 2005. I have well over a dozen beginnings of other stories, but I've really stuck with this one. Almost, almost to the end. Just gotta breathe!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Why It's So Easy
I read an update from the kindly Mr. Aaron G. Niz about the speed of change, and how easily the print world is shifting to digital.
I'm 26. My mom taught me to read when I was 3 years old and I never looked back. I remember, the summer before I even started kindergarten, laying on the couch with my huge compendium (Run, Spot, Run!) of Dick and Jane stories, and a dictionary. I came from a single parent household and after the 4th word I asked my mom to explain to me, she handed me the dictionary and said, "If you really don't understand, then ask me!" Maybe it was a tough way to do it, but I love a good challenge.
I can still picture that grumpy old water heater radiator under the window. Outside, down the incredibly sharp hill (you couldn't walk up it if you wanted to, especially in the winter) was one of the main avenues through Cuyahoga Falls, 2nd street (one way only, please, at least 3 wrong-way accidents a year). Car brakes squealed because that light changed fast. People sometimes walked by, chatting. The air was hot, city hot, but a steady breeze somehow always flowed in the window, disrupting my pages. My mom's bitter old six-toed calico cat would glare at me with venom when she got in the window. But, reminiscing aside...
I have a history with books. I love them. I love how they feel. I open them up and smell the pages (usually when no one is looking). I always smiled to see the indentation of my books when I had them in a bag. You can always tell which of my books I love the most because I invariably eat something with tomato sauce and spill it on the inside pages. I have two bookcases, but still not enough space in which to lovingly display all my titles... yet, I got my hands on a Kindle as fast as I could.
I have a number of reasons for this.
1. Foreign Life
When the Kindle came out, I was living and teaching English, in Japan. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get books in English from Japan? I paid over $30 for my copy of Atlas Shrugged. No book could be gotten for less than $10. (You complain about $8 paperbacks? YOU pay $23 for Sudhir Venkatesh's Gang Leader For a Day) The biggest bookstores I went to had, at absolute MOST, about 100 titles for sale. Most of them were English Exam books, basically, classics. I lived in a port city of over 2 million people. Do you know how many books my library had in English? Ten. I had already read nine of them before going to Japan! I couldn't use Whispernet in Japan, the servers just don't connect. But, I could buy anything I wanted on my nice American credit card, with no currency conversion fees, and deliver it to my own computer and Kindle via magic (aka: technology).
2. Physical Distress
I will probably have permanent bowing in my back from the number of books I carried around as a child. I would easily throw three, 500+ page books in on top of all those heavy textbooks because, "Just in case!" Just in case I get stranded on a desert island for a month, on my bus ride to school? No, just in case I finished one, I wanted some choice what to read next. I almost never have less than five books that I am currently reading. I love to read!
3. The Drool Factor
Let's face, the Kindle is really freaking cool. It's lightweight, compact, convenient, and even though I read in every spare second of the day, with wireless off my battery lasts over 2 weeks. I am what is called a Functional Nerd. I have a personal firewall that let's me restrain myself from commenting that what you just did was a very Leroy Jenkins thing do. I don't have to remind you that there are 10 types of people in the world: those that understand binary, and those that don't. That I also happen to know all the original words for the theme song of TMNT and can probably name a number of anime characters on sight... doesn't mean I do these things! I can have normal conversations about weather, food, animals, my job... but that other, more interesting stuff is always in there. Part of me is a technophile. Having a Kindle strokes something fundamental in my being, and I love it for that.
I absolutely love to read. I read everything, even things I don't want to. I read signs, labels, nutrition facts, receipts, annoying snail mail spam, every printed word! If it's in my hand, I read it. (Thank you for spam filters, by the way.)
I also love to write. While my Kindle will never smell like a book, or give me the satisfaction of turning a page, and will sometimes run out of battery... it will also never drop a bookmark, bend a page, or soak up tomato sauce. I can slide it easily in with my other things. I can wow my friends with it. I can review my own writing with it.
I absolutely believe digital is the future. I believe digital is already the now, just not enough people have realized it! World's going to get away from you folks, better stay trendy where you can :)
I'm 26. My mom taught me to read when I was 3 years old and I never looked back. I remember, the summer before I even started kindergarten, laying on the couch with my huge compendium (Run, Spot, Run!) of Dick and Jane stories, and a dictionary. I came from a single parent household and after the 4th word I asked my mom to explain to me, she handed me the dictionary and said, "If you really don't understand, then ask me!" Maybe it was a tough way to do it, but I love a good challenge.
I can still picture that grumpy old water heater radiator under the window. Outside, down the incredibly sharp hill (you couldn't walk up it if you wanted to, especially in the winter) was one of the main avenues through Cuyahoga Falls, 2nd street (one way only, please, at least 3 wrong-way accidents a year). Car brakes squealed because that light changed fast. People sometimes walked by, chatting. The air was hot, city hot, but a steady breeze somehow always flowed in the window, disrupting my pages. My mom's bitter old six-toed calico cat would glare at me with venom when she got in the window. But, reminiscing aside...
I have a history with books. I love them. I love how they feel. I open them up and smell the pages (usually when no one is looking). I always smiled to see the indentation of my books when I had them in a bag. You can always tell which of my books I love the most because I invariably eat something with tomato sauce and spill it on the inside pages. I have two bookcases, but still not enough space in which to lovingly display all my titles... yet, I got my hands on a Kindle as fast as I could.
I have a number of reasons for this.
1. Foreign Life
When the Kindle came out, I was living and teaching English, in Japan. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get books in English from Japan? I paid over $30 for my copy of Atlas Shrugged. No book could be gotten for less than $10. (You complain about $8 paperbacks? YOU pay $23 for Sudhir Venkatesh's Gang Leader For a Day) The biggest bookstores I went to had, at absolute MOST, about 100 titles for sale. Most of them were English Exam books, basically, classics. I lived in a port city of over 2 million people. Do you know how many books my library had in English? Ten. I had already read nine of them before going to Japan! I couldn't use Whispernet in Japan, the servers just don't connect. But, I could buy anything I wanted on my nice American credit card, with no currency conversion fees, and deliver it to my own computer and Kindle via magic (aka: technology).
2. Physical Distress
I will probably have permanent bowing in my back from the number of books I carried around as a child. I would easily throw three, 500+ page books in on top of all those heavy textbooks because, "Just in case!" Just in case I get stranded on a desert island for a month, on my bus ride to school? No, just in case I finished one, I wanted some choice what to read next. I almost never have less than five books that I am currently reading. I love to read!
3. The Drool Factor
Let's face, the Kindle is really freaking cool. It's lightweight, compact, convenient, and even though I read in every spare second of the day, with wireless off my battery lasts over 2 weeks. I am what is called a Functional Nerd. I have a personal firewall that let's me restrain myself from commenting that what you just did was a very Leroy Jenkins thing do. I don't have to remind you that there are 10 types of people in the world: those that understand binary, and those that don't. That I also happen to know all the original words for the theme song of TMNT and can probably name a number of anime characters on sight... doesn't mean I do these things! I can have normal conversations about weather, food, animals, my job... but that other, more interesting stuff is always in there. Part of me is a technophile. Having a Kindle strokes something fundamental in my being, and I love it for that.
I absolutely love to read. I read everything, even things I don't want to. I read signs, labels, nutrition facts, receipts, annoying snail mail spam, every printed word! If it's in my hand, I read it. (Thank you for spam filters, by the way.)
I also love to write. While my Kindle will never smell like a book, or give me the satisfaction of turning a page, and will sometimes run out of battery... it will also never drop a bookmark, bend a page, or soak up tomato sauce. I can slide it easily in with my other things. I can wow my friends with it. I can review my own writing with it.
I absolutely believe digital is the future. I believe digital is already the now, just not enough people have realized it! World's going to get away from you folks, better stay trendy where you can :)
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Photo Finish (But, I'm the Only One Racing)
Yay, another 4am finish for me! I love writing in the gloom of the really, really late night. It's the time when the world is quiet, and you can argue about whether it's still yesterday because it's still dark, or if it's actually today because the clock says so.
I think I should give a shout out to my fiance for today, however. I would have been content to do up a chapter (maybe two, the one I wrote first was a short chapter*) I got a kiss on the cheek, an encouraging smile and a, "You have to write 3 chapters or 2,500 words before you come to bed. Whichever comes first. When you're done, wake me up and I'll rub lotion on your feet, because I know they're dry (stupid winter). Good luck!"
*A normal chapter is 900-1,300 words for this story. This one was just shy of 700.
I actually clocked in at 7 pages (Word... Microsoft, not the street slang), 2,799 words and 3 chapters :)
I feel a little silly, because I actually said to someone today, "Yeah, I'm just finishing up the book I'm writing." I think I should clarify, I am at least 11 days away from finishing this draft. My goal is 50k words, and I aim for at least 1k a day. Some days (especially recently) I pull out 2k+. If the story isn't finished in 50k, then there are obviously more words that need to be added.
I wrote three chapters today. I feel they had a punch at the end. I feel really great about that.
Today I am most proud that I:
(ate sauerkraut for German good luck superstition fun times!) Met my goal imposed on me for my fiance :)
I think I should give a shout out to my fiance for today, however. I would have been content to do up a chapter (maybe two, the one I wrote first was a short chapter*) I got a kiss on the cheek, an encouraging smile and a, "You have to write 3 chapters or 2,500 words before you come to bed. Whichever comes first. When you're done, wake me up and I'll rub lotion on your feet, because I know they're dry (stupid winter). Good luck!"
*A normal chapter is 900-1,300 words for this story. This one was just shy of 700.
I actually clocked in at 7 pages (Word... Microsoft, not the street slang), 2,799 words and 3 chapters :)
I feel a little silly, because I actually said to someone today, "Yeah, I'm just finishing up the book I'm writing." I think I should clarify, I am at least 11 days away from finishing this draft. My goal is 50k words, and I aim for at least 1k a day. Some days (especially recently) I pull out 2k+. If the story isn't finished in 50k, then there are obviously more words that need to be added.
I wrote three chapters today. I feel they had a punch at the end. I feel really great about that.
Today I am most proud that I:
(ate sauerkraut for German good luck superstition fun times!) Met my goal imposed on me for my fiance :)
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The Gears of 2011
I imagine that like many people I am patting myself on the back and saying something like, "This year is your year!" I have my pledge written over there, somewhere on the right toolbar. I'm determined to finish a work, self-publish it, and sell 1k copies by Dec. 15.
What makes me believe this?
1. The belief that my writing is good, and deserves to be read.
2. The certainty that when people read my work, they will be entertained - thus sharing with others.
3. The knowledge that if I am not successful in this, I will have some serious explaining to do to my fiance, about why I haven't come to bed before 3am for the past couple months. (Answer: Finishing up that last chapter!)
4. The average work world and I don't seem to play very nice together, so I have to do something with my days.
Okay, scratch that last one, anyway. I play nice, there's just no jobs to be had around here... other than what I do currently - deliver pizza. I know it sounds selfish, but one day I wish a hopeful author can look at me and say, where was J.E.Medrick before 1,000 copies a month? Delivering pizza! Can you believe that?!?
My puppy wants me to stay home too, because it means more attention for him.
Despite all my bluster, I didn't get anything written yesterday. I worked from 11am - 8pm (again!) and then we took down our Christmas tree, grabbed some food and went cosmic bowling with my family for New Year's. To be fair: #6 of my pledge is more time with loved ones. But I charged out a few chapters each the past couple of days and I have an idea for the direction of the next few.
I can feel time ticking away a little bit. My goal was to finish up this novel early this month, and have it up for sale next month. I want it to be the best it can, though. I won't sacrifice quality for speed. But, if I have something good to get down... I just have to learn to type faster than 90wpm!
What makes me believe this?
1. The belief that my writing is good, and deserves to be read.
2. The certainty that when people read my work, they will be entertained - thus sharing with others.
3. The knowledge that if I am not successful in this, I will have some serious explaining to do to my fiance, about why I haven't come to bed before 3am for the past couple months. (Answer: Finishing up that last chapter!)
4. The average work world and I don't seem to play very nice together, so I have to do something with my days.
Okay, scratch that last one, anyway. I play nice, there's just no jobs to be had around here... other than what I do currently - deliver pizza. I know it sounds selfish, but one day I wish a hopeful author can look at me and say, where was J.E.Medrick before 1,000 copies a month? Delivering pizza! Can you believe that?!?
My puppy wants me to stay home too, because it means more attention for him.
Despite all my bluster, I didn't get anything written yesterday. I worked from 11am - 8pm (again!) and then we took down our Christmas tree, grabbed some food and went cosmic bowling with my family for New Year's. To be fair: #6 of my pledge is more time with loved ones. But I charged out a few chapters each the past couple of days and I have an idea for the direction of the next few.
I can feel time ticking away a little bit. My goal was to finish up this novel early this month, and have it up for sale next month. I want it to be the best it can, though. I won't sacrifice quality for speed. But, if I have something good to get down... I just have to learn to type faster than 90wpm!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)