Astral
projecting
is
something
I could
see myself
doing
if I was
astral
projecting
2.
3.
I saw an
animated
cartoon
about a horse
who was
an
oceanographer.
***
and I had to cry foul,
***
because, man,
I can only accept
so much
Comrade, I feel your pain. My best advice is by a 24 page exercise book with wide lines.
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Done and dusted. Thanks, Lonelykeyboards
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Haha! It’s a start.
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Thanks, Sadje
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You’re welcome
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A :-) is worth 1000 words.
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Thank you, E. Sum
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For Ms. Harry, the hardest part is the armoured guard, the big man of steel behind the steering wheel.
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Thanks, David
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LOL :D Thanks for the laugh this morning.
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And thank you, too, Kymber.
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:D I’ll send you a package of pens.
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And I’ll accept them. Thanks, MM
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Darn those pesky words getting in the way of a book.
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Clever response…….
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They really slow down the whole process. Thanks, Max
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Lol. We share your pain. For my last book, I tried cheating by using invisible ink, but I couldn’t find the ink pot anywhere.
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The thing about invisible ink is that you could run out and keep writing and never know. Thanks, Ford.
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So true! Cheers R.
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But you apparently got past the writer’s block part at least! 😆 – Marty
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Also clever response……
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I never hope to know that. Thanks, Marty.
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Good one
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Thanks, Rugby
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Having a novel outlook on life it’s a guaranteed bestseller.
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Amen to that. Thanks, Pam
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That is always the worst part. Something that may help is a dictionary. It is full of words.
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I am considering filling the pages in with a lot of random words from the dictionary and then titling it, Create Your Own Novel.
Thanks, Crow
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I am willing to help. I can write the page numbers for you.
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OK, but I need you to use a crayon, so it will take up more room on the page. Thanks, D.
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Bravo on the 1,000 pages!
If it weren’t for those blasted words, though…
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There is just too many of them! Thanks, SS
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George Raymond
by Wic E. Ruse Blade
“Thanks I’ faith, for silence is only commendable
In a neat’s tongue dried, and a maid not vendible”
—William Shakespeare, “Merchant of Venice”
He is American, a funny NewMillennial,
a blogging logger and a flowering perennial.
His site, Trefology, was like a grove of falling trees,
where one might sight him, yes, for his appalling drolleries.
And yet, one laughed time and again for what he had to say,
succinct, so tidy, easy too, those wood-strings on display.
For years, one would see him—that flan—in some swell restaurant,
there grimacing before his plate or drink, so nonchalant,
as if his frolic slices were not quite commestable,
or even worse, like forest humus, weren’t digestible.
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Wic — that was wonderful. Brilliant job. If this had arrived by post it would already be hanging on my wall. Thank you — geo.
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HAHAHA! The struggle is real Trefy the struggle is real, #writerslife.
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Trefy agrees. Thanks, Janny!
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I have written many a poem about my inability to craft a poem. Think of it as a meta-book, a book about a book, or in your case, a book about no book.
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That is exactly it. I think. Thanks, C.
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More people should have wrote those kinds of books.
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