Tough one today.
I revisited the two or three pieces left in my draft folder and decided none of them had merit. This is not the first time I’ve done this. The story about my friend – maybe I don’t finish that one. I read it, I stripped it down to the parts I thought were worth keeping and asked myself “what good comes from this?” And I threw it away. I remember the XO Jane article that caused such a stir in 2016 – and while I don’t feel what I wrote was anything like that, I would be devastated to be misunderstood.
I can tell a story – but sometimes I get so caught up in the telling – the turn of phrase, the music you compose with your words that I don’t completely consider the affect they could have on someone else.
Which is kind of a bummer because I was holding on to them for days like this.
So it’s 11:40 on a Saturday night and I don’t have anything impressive to add.
I went to see Robin Hood.
So bad. Embarrassing.
The most interesting actor in it was Jamie Foxx and he’s a cliché within a cliché within a tired trope in an unnecessary remake whose final plot twist is to become a prequel. Oops.
I saw Widows last weekend and knew which character was the traitor from the opening shot. It was leaps and bounds better than Robin Hood, but I’m spinning a roll of double stick tape on my finger than is better than Robin Hood. Widows needed some development and depth.
I am afraid for Aquaman. I like Jason Momoa, and while the effects in the trailer look interesting I am not optimistic.
I am dozing off while I write. Good news – tomorrow is supposed to be good writing weather. Cold and snowy.
All I promised was to publish every day.
But here’s something funny so you don’t feel cheated. Trigger warning: the word “vagina.”
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