Ping

You know how some­times, you can look at a prob­lem from 800 dif­fer­ent angles, and it just won’t go away? And you just know there’s a sim­ple solu­tion; the prob­lem is just pick­ing the cor­rect sim­ple solu­tion from the infin­i­ty of incor­rect ones.

And you know how some­times, it’ll fil­ter in your mind, and sud­den­ly you’ll have this epiphany, this flash of insight, and you know the answer? And it turns out you’re right?

I’m halfway there. I haven’t had the epiphany yet, but I’ve got One of Those Prob­lems. Noth­ing life-threat­en­ing; just some­thing that’s intel­lec­tu­al­ly aggra­vat­ing. And Tech Sup­port is involved, too.

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Did some writ­ing tonight, too. At least that went well. I have some research to do. Things I would like to know include:

  • Bur­ial cus­toms in the 17th Cen­tu­ry (Boston? New York?)
  • 17th-C slang
    • Things of that ilk.

      G’night!

2 thoughts on “Ping

  1. I keep hop­ing the muse will cough up an end­ing to my romance nov­el. But she won’t share. Just keeps telling me to start writ­ing where I left off. Trust me, she says. It’s a sur­prise!

    The bitch.

  2. Oh, I have the end­ing, oh yes. It’s rare that I’ll start a sto­ry with­out an end­ing. My Achilles heel is usu­al­ly the mid­dle.

    But I have most of the mid­dle out­lined now, too. Should be inter­est­ing.

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