PETREA BURCHARD and Boz Books are now at petreaburchard.com
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Why dictation software is not for me
So she enters the room, and—no. No so. And this should be past tense so she entered—stop. Go back to so. No so, too many sos, go back to—start over.
She entered the room, and he thought
...
Why did it turn off? Aren't I allowed to think for a few seconds? Stop. Start again.
Maybe entered isn't good enough. Stop. Start again.
She swept into the room—ugh. Cliché. She glided. Glid? Glided. Start over.
She glided into the room
That just doesn't look right.
All eyes went to the door as she entered.
Stop. Eyes do not go to doors.
All eyes were on her as she glided into the room.
Can eyes be on somebody? They can look on somebody.
All eyes looked on her as she glided into the room.
...
...
--> Oh, pigpigpiggypig blahblah. Blah! Stop!
-->
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20 comments:
Been there -- the frustrations of writing!
Here's more piggypiggy blahblah...
"She swept into the room like a fan, capturing everyone's attention"
Musical interlude (chanted to a clave beat):
Like a fan,
a fan, fan,
like a fan,
a fan, fan,
a fan...
Ms M, we are giggling over here.
Much mulling.
And no, you are not the dictator type, Petrea. :)
'Many a true word spoke in jest'... etc etc ;-)
It's true, Dina! I'm not cut out to be a dictator.
Geoff, you must be referring to "blahblah."
Don't know what dictation software is so I read this straight. Enchanted; a left of center narrative. Best blog post I've read in months.
I'm glad you enjoyed it, PA! It was fun to write.
I dunno, I kind of like picturing a dozen eyes with tiny feet running to the door.
She glided through the door and all eyes ran to her. "Ick, ick," she cried, as they climbed the folds of her satin gown. "No!" she screamed, "Not the hair, not the hair!"
"As I live and breathe," said her escort, the dashing but dangerous Blackie McPherson. "All eyes are on you."
"Quite," she replied, cringing with the slightest delight as several of the eyes crept down her decolletage.
When Blackie raised his hand to strike the first of several offending globular organs, she cried, "Please, don't bat an eye!"
"Not to worry," he smirked. "I lash."
One eye was dry and irritated. Annoyed, she rubbed it. Another dripped tears, and she wiped them. A third eye began to twitch.
"I've changed my mind, Blackie," she said. "Bat them!"
Well, I suppose everyone knows how this ends. Years later, after many adventures, she ended up as a teacher in the Appalachians. Her pupils remember her, fondly.
I should leave this alone, as you have clearly won. But we have one last thing to do and that's to name our main character. All together now:
Iris!
Oh, damn it, you won.
Wait! If you had gone to Wikipedia you'd know there's a rival for Iris's love! His name is Rod Cell! He lens her his camera!
I won't sleep tonight.
You two tear me up. Haven't laughed so much for ages.
Hahahahahahahahhaha! Priceless!
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