Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Best of .....until the weekend


Play the video for the background music to this post!

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.


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