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The Twelve Days of Christmas Writer-Style
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, an
hour to myself for writing.
On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me, two
pots of tea and an hour to myself for writing.
On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me, three
red pens, two pots of tea, and an hour to myself for writing.
On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, four
plot lines, three red pens, two pots of tea, and an hour to myself for writing.
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, five bold scenes, four plot lines,
three red pens, two pots of tea, and an hour to myself for writing.
On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, six words
of comfort, five bold scenes, four
plot lines, three red pens, two pots of tea, and an hour to myself for writing.
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
seven yawns from no sleep, six words of comfort, five bold scenes, four plot lines, three red pens, two pots of tea,
and an hour to myself for writing.
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
eight drafts I hate, seven yawns from no sleep, six words of comfort, five bold scenes, four plot lines,
three red pens, two pots of tea, and an hour to myself for writing.
On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, nine
great reviews, eight drafts I hate, seven yawns from no sleep, six words of
comfort, five bold scenes, four plot
lines, three red pens, two pots of tea, and an hour to myself for writing.
On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, ten
cramping fingers, nine great reviews, eight drafts I hate, seven yawns from no
sleep, six words of comfort, five bold
scenes, four plot lines, three red pens, two pots of tea, and an hour to
myself for writing.
On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
eleven gray hairs, ten cramping fingers, nine great reviews, eight drafts I
hate, seven yawns from no sleep, six words of comfort, five bold scenes, four plot lines, three red pens, two pots of tea,
and an hour to myself for writing.
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
twelve new ideas, eleven gray hairs, ten
cramping fingers, nine great reviews, eight drafts I hate, seven yawns from no
sleep, six words of comfort, five bold scenes,
four plot lines, three red pens, two pots of tea, and an hour to myself for
writing.
This is really informative.Thanks for sharing such a way.Hope to see more.
ReplyDeleteLove it!
ReplyDeleteHee! Genius!
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind compliments :)
ReplyDeleteWhat a GREAT 12 Days of Christmas!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
May we All have True Loves! ;)
Thanks SGChris :) I second the thought!
ReplyDelete