The Writers’ Day February 19, 2006 – Posted in: Aberrant Normalcy
Four of us commingled at Devin J. Poore’s house yesterday for a writers’ day. Besides myself, there was Mercurio D. Rivera, Kris Dikeman, and of course Devin. We sat around his kitchen counter clackety-clacking away at our laptops, occasionally exclaiming, “What’s another word for perspicacious?” Devin worked on his “alternate history” story. Kris, her amusing “fairy tale.” Mercurio worked to make one of his characters more maudlin (Oh, the humanity!) and then tried to come up with a new idea for a story. I managed to edit 400 words of my novel.
Lots of sugary things were available. Kris had brought cream puffs and brownies, and we took a trip to Lepore’s Chocolates in Hoboken where a nice old lady wrapped all these homemade chocolates for us. As Kris picked out items for her mother and the little old lady bent over again and again, I remarked, “You’re going to kill the poor woman.”
After our endorphin fix and a struggle trying to get Kris’s computer to stop exclaiming for no apparent reason about some mystical error, we went to Ali-Baba’s for dinner. The food was fantastic.
I showed everyone the layout of Sybil’s Garage, and they liked, but made some great suggestions which I plan to throw away (just kidding. I am grateful for them.)
All in all, it was a productive day, even though it was absosmurfly f**king cold all day.
3 Comments
Mercurio D. Rivera February 19, 2006 - 19:16
Great day, indeed! I couldn’t think of a better way to pass a frigid winter day than with friends, all of us trying to conquer the blank page together.
And the episodes of “Robot Chicken” at the end of the writing session were a hoot!
Evil David
Eugene February 20, 2006 - 02:56
I wish I could have been there! Sounds like I missed a great time.
Devin February 26, 2006 - 11:24
Kristen and I were out at dinner last night and she was asking about how last Saturday went, and if we ever had any luck with writing as a group. I told her about Evil David selling a story to Interzone that he started at our place, and she was pleased. “Our place is like an artistic commune!” she said.