I need to think before I talk. I have a tendency to agree with people, especially people who are hierarchially higher than me. I need to temper this tendency with forethought. My initial reaction, which I base on the plausible sounding words that roll off the person’s lips and the decision by someone I pray is in a good position to judge to place this person above me, must be judged not just by the words but by the underlying ideas. There have been too many times when I agree initially only to regret and backpedal on this agreement. This is why I like writing: I can change my mind halfway through an idea and lose no face.

LM should be simple and funny, not too complicated and clever, but simple, easy, and funny.

One of my problems, which I discovered while reading DFW’s belletristic essay, Octet, a brilliant four part pop-quiz format narrative that, once I realized what the fuck was going on I nearly Busted a Gut, is, getting back to my original thought, which I accidentally lost and had to flip back the page to find again, that I need to, again had to flip, write a story that is incredibly long-winded and repetitive. I need to break away from my fear of boring the reader and repeating myself (I resisted adding ad naseum there).

I don’t know or really care what the story is about, but the important thing is to take the idea (i.e., the story’s idea that I have not thought up yet) and run with it and beat it and whip it until it (i.e., the idea again) dies a rather painful death. Once it’s dead, I’ll pick it up, whip it again and keep going with it (i.e., the story idea, the mythical one I keep talking about—perhaps mythical is not the right word, let’s say hypothetical one) saddled on my back so everyone can see that not only am I not done with it (i.e., you should know by now what it is, but, being the kind-hearted writer who doesn’t want the reader to work any harder than she (I’m playing the odds here: 2 girls and 1 guy read these musings) has to work, I’ll tell you that I am, again, referring to the story idea) but that I will keep returning to it again and again until I no longer have words to describe it which are different from the last ten thousand (okay, I admit I’m being overly optimistic by citing such a large—for me—number to refer to how long the story will be) words I used to describe it (i.e., the story idea).

I really, really need to stop reading DFW.