A big greasy lips print on the window outside my Slave Leia standup. Heh. Hey, come on in an buy her. You can take her home!
On second thought. I don't want to know about that.
Had a Walking Dead action figure walk away yesterday.
Hey, you are what you steal!
Amazing how yucky shoplifting makes me feel. I can't describe the feeling. Disappointment, only worse. Vulnerability. Just a deep down discomfort.
Considering the kind of store I have, I'm probably lucky it doesn't happen more often.
I know it's naive of me, but I can't help but wonder at someone who would take enjoyment out of an item they stole. "Wow. What a cool figure! (and I'm a slimebag.)
Read a chapter at writer's group; the scene setting up the penultimate 'action' chapters.
I knew it was just a bridge chapter, a 'marshaling the forces' chapter.
But one of the group members, Gary, told me I'd resorted to "school boy" solutions to the problems.
Ouch. But it was totally accurate. I understood exactly what he meant. It was as if I had a protagonist stranded on a road in the middle of nowhere, and in order to get him where I need him I have a bus come by to pick him up -- just coming up with solutions that aren't quite credible.
He also had a suggestion that would make the set up more credible, but which will require a whole bunch of rewriting.
The closer to the end of this book I get, the more I realize I'm in for a real job of rewriting. I was kidding myself to think otherwise.
On the other hand, I probably needed to kid myself about how easy this was going to be, or I wouldn't have started and continued.
Took my financial adviser's advice -- heh -- and left the money in the stock market I had intended to remove into safer investments. (I can't believe I even have a financial adviser --inherited from parents-- or for that matter, the finances that need advice.)
Looking like a hell of a good decision as of today.
Let's see how it looks in a week.
What a big game.
12 hours ago