The man's ass-backward emotionally and literally!
cleverly disguising the most forgettable leg or legume, making everything from pasta to old poetry palatable. She's amazing.
Wish I could sic my editor on him. She hates alliteration. Does Dee read old poetry while she cooks? And if so, why would he dislike old poetry? Usually it's stood the test of time and is superior.
I'm impressed by her ingenuity: she's a mom, a professional and an understanding companion
Companion? What, she's a labrador retriever? Connubial Companions for Comfort? You talk like a gay man, sir.
to a writer who is often at home but whose mind is elsewhere! I don't tell her often enough how much I appreciate her.
Bet you don't show her that often either.
I am enjoying my freelance work immensely. Some jobs I cannot wait to start.
Backwards ran the sentences until reeled the mind.
Manuscripts especially carry me away, and if I can make a few good adjustments, find a few errors and contribute to a potential bestseller I feel a kind of ownership. I have had the pleasure and the privilege of working with two authors whose work is becoming better known each year. One is an historian whose novels are based on real incidents.
WHAT THE FUCK ? If his histories are based on fake incidents, they're not histories, you dipshit.
The depth of his research is astounding and each story is filled with detail as though he was writing a memoir of a past life.
I don't even know where to begin with this. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
The other author enjoys writing fiction. Her specialty is the bodice-ripping-whodunit and always contains a medical twist. It always takes specialized technology to solve one of her cases. It sounds formulaic, but her skills are unique and the characters are compelling enough to keep even a seasoned cynic
How old is Mike and how long has he been editing novels?
like myself on the edge of my seat. Last year when her third novel was released, I stood looking at the bank of covers in the bookstore,
For my sins I know a lot about book production schedules. It's late 2005 now. Her third book was last year therefore it came out in 2004. That meant it had to be edited in the first half of 2004 at the latest. When did Mike start getting all this freelance work?
proud to have been part of her book's production and giddy about having had the chance to see it before the readers could. It was like being in on a great conspiracy.
Almost as good as making fun of your neighbors in print, eh?
I also like working with scripts.
Jesus wept. Here it comes.
I've been editing works by several new playwrights, and modernizing some Shakespeare, Brecht and Coward for a post-millenial audience.
I can just see it:
"Now this winter was a total buzzkill,
but a most awesome sun came out in the form of a royal York dawg
And his bling parted the clouds
and served our worries into the big briny milkshake..."
I feel almost guilty in these cases,
Then you don't feel guilty. Any writer knows that the world "almost" is the weakest-assed word in the language.
however all of the greats have had their work reinterpreted
You're doing nothing of the sort, dick, unless you're translating from a language other than English or engaging in literary criticism.
countless times and I hope my relatively minor modifications wouldn't cause them too much offense.
Blow it out your ass, you pompus twat.
Sitting in my workspace late at night,n
(flogging away to internet porn)
my mind often wanders and I think about all the brilliant people whose creative contributions have lit up human history; and the people who are doing so today with their books and plays and art.
Anyone in particular? No? Then it's more pattented Patterson windbaggery.
I'm honoured to be among the creators,
They're so lucky to have had you editing them, aren't they?
and while I feel arrogant in hoping that my small contribution might make a difference, I have the ambition to do my best work and hope that someday it will.
Is it just me or is that sentence self-contraditory in what...one two three ways? Or is it just meaningless.
At night, lying next to Deanna, I listen to the voices of the characters downstairs. I wonder what their motivations are, and I wonder if what I wrote about them will change them at all.
Huh? Is there such a thing as King Canute syndrome?
It was a funny piece, and I've had some good feedback.
From really good friends of yours.
I feel that the Kelpfroths deserved to be caricatured after the months of frustration that they've caused Lovey and my family.
Frustration? Your honor, I request that Michael Patterson be named in the record an expert on the subject.
I've had fleeting moments of guilt because my portrayal of them was, admittedly, biased. I was writing a humourous expose - not a journalistic retelling of our conflict - and while it might not have been kind, it was honest. The Kelpfroths shall remain anonymous unless they choose to expose themselves as the subjects,
Or someone looks up my address.
in which case they will legitimize my tale of woe. They have no grounds for a lawsuit, and living below a writer is not without its hazards; inspiration is seized from any source, and our neighbours are a wellspring.
There isn't a sock big enough for Mike to stick in it, is there?
With luck, either the neighbours or my family will have moved from here soon.
I fought the eviction, and I won...
I look at my children and remember (shortened for char requirement-eek)I want a big yellow kitchen for Robin and Meredith and for Deanna - a place where she can spread out her ingredients and make soup
without being worried about dropping a spoon or even a dish and annoying the neighbours.
Who cares? Honestly, Dee still cares about annoying the neighbors?
I want a back yard and a swing set and a puppy for the kids to play ball with.
I personally have nothing against ending a sentence with a preposition, but some big-time editors have a different opinion.
I want a driveway to shovel and a park nearby to play in.
My vision for my family requires preparation.
All about "me" as usual. Dee's opinion is whatever *I* want, if she know's what's good for her.
For my family, I work long hours. For the kids and for ourselves, Deanna and I save our salaries and turn leftovers into soup.
The soup thing is getting old, but there's no horse so dead Patterson can't flog it a little more...
I think I'll go down and stir things up. And I'll tell my wife how much I appreciate her.
Just can't say love, can you, you pussy.