The drawback to this was that I figured I would have approximately no writing time at home this afternoon, so I made myself finish the draft of "In the Velvet Swamp" longhand in my paper journal, sitting at a scrinchy little desk in the waiting lounge at the Saturn dealership. My shoulders are distinctly displeased. If I'd known, I would have just read Rex Stout and saved the draft end for when I got home. Ah well; a draft is a draft, and I think this one's all pretty all right. It's based on an
Coincidentally, I finished the last page of the story on the last page of this paper journal. (If this had not worked out, it would have been okay -- I brought another paper journal with.) It worked really well to have a short story I was writing entirely in the paper journal, because then whenever I had the opportunity to sit with the paper journal and didn't have something else I wanted to ramble about or work on, there was my froggy story waiting for me. I think I should try to have such a project going in my next journal, too.
I had several choices for the next journal, between gifts and purchases, but I decided it was time to try the Moleskine everybody and their little yellow dog has been raving about. We'll see. So far, the ink just barely doesn't soak through the pages (that's good), but I have no use for the pocket yet. But I've had things stuck in paper journals without pockets enough times that I could see the pocket coming in handy. The propaganda packaged with the Moleskine made me roll my eyes and make unladylike noises, but propaganda doesn't make it worse any more than it would have made it better. (Why is the moral so often "we'll see"?)
Now, of course, I have to type "ItVS" and tweak the bits marked for tweaking. But that's no problem. Just not tonight. I'm far enough behind on comments tonight that I'm going to try again tomorrow, I think. Oh, and I had intended to do the reading notes for the first half of August tonight, and maybe tell another story. Well, you're all patient people, right? Or can pretend to be through the wonders of the internet, at least.
OhandIforgottosaythevertigocameback. But there are drugs! So!