In which a friend writes an awesome book

Go to Cassie J. Sneider's blog. Do it now. Click on that fucking link or I swear to God I will hunt you down. And give you a stern talking to.

If you won't do that, just go to Amazon and buy Fine Fine Music. You will thank me, or thank your computer for letting you get such a great book. Then you'll feel stupid, because your computer is a machine. It doesn't understand appreciation.

Then you'll remember the end of Terminator, that maybe machines CAN feel something. And you'll apologize for all the times you gave it digital-STDs with your albino midget fetish habit. But it won't accept your apology and may decide you should be killed while you sleep.

I'm getting ahead of myself. The point is, if you don't read Fine Fine Music, you will regret it for the rest of your life. I am not even kidding.

Wordslinger-117 out

The horror. The HORROR.

Forgive me, gods of writing, for I have sinned.

I sent a piece for consideration that I did not thoroughly edit. And holy shit I found some stinkers on my umpteenth read through. 'Due' instead of 'do'? Missing and double words? Kill me now, spare me some of the shame.

And the bitch of it? They wrote back to say it had passed first reading and was being considered for placement. I'm hoping that the story kicked so much ass they could ignore the errors sprinkled in. That's what I will hope to my dying day.

I think I made a blog post about this earlier, where the story has one of these mistakes in the first paragraph. I did not go into the vivid, horrifying detail. I may, should they say 'Clean this up and we'll publish it'. I never will, however, if they reject it after these few months. If that's the case I will delete every single post about such terrible things, and we will never speak of this again. Like a bond that people take after they've killed somebody and dumped them in a river.

So if you're reading this in the future, I have either lied or the piece was accepted.

Wordslinger-117 out.

Is my blog a GOOD blog?

I recently found an old friends blog. It's minimalist, white background, black text. But it works because what she writes is fantastic. She doesn't need a hokey background or pictures or crazy fonts.

So then I look at my blog.

Crazy font? No.

Pictures? No.

Hokey "I'm a writer! Look! A book!" background? Fuck you.

If I had a book, like she does (you can find where to get them at her awesomely Spartan blog here) or if I could write such funny shit, I might not need anything else.

But for the time being, I am a writer. Just look at my blog's background. It's a fucking book. What more do you need?

Wordslinger-117 out.

What a way to start the month.

The usual Tuesday writers group is holding their meeting in the FSU Alumni center this week. I was told this last week.

As I write this, I'm sitting and waiting for the event to kick off. This is not the usual 'get a pint and have a seat' affair. No. I came here wearing a hoodie and torn jeans. Other people are wearing blazers. There is a donation at the door of ten dollars for the Second Harvest charity. I had seven dollars in my pocket. There is a silent auction. A cash bar.

Which wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't given them the seven dollars at the door with a look of "sorry, I'm not from your planet. "

So I sit here in a hooded sweatshirt with a back eye and a swollen chin.

I am sorry to say I've never even heard of our guest of honor Pam Houston. She has at least four books published so I feel like I damn well should. But live and learn.

I feel like a kid again, growing up next to Elon College, sneaking into functions for the free food. Maybe I should just feel slick for getting in at a discount. Suck it, poor people.

I kid of course. But somebody please give me a dollar so I can get a beer.

Wordslinger-117 out.

Update: Pam Houston is awesome. Get her stuff.