One of my favorite blogs, Go Fug Yourself, is crafted by two sassy gals who also have a gig writing a column for New York magazine. In their charming post about the loss we all share of Bea Arthur, they mention:“whenever one of us runs up against writer's block … the person in question gives up and types, "And then there's Maude," and turns the column over to the other for an infusion of ideas”
A confession which makes me feel so connected to the world of Real Journalism, since I too use gibberish to move past being stuck. When I write press releases, I frequently (actually, every single time) get frozen and unable to think of another goddam synonym for "business." When that happens, I temporarily use as a filler a sentence I would have employed had I followed my dream of being the author of a series of trashy romance novels for Ladies.
The sentence?
My lips burned from the lash of his kisses.
Fabulous, huh? Had I been the new Barbara Cartland, I would have stuck it in every single book. It would have been my trademark.
That said, my constant fear is that some day I will forget to edit that little gem out and will distribute a release to the wide world that includes a quote from mrpeenee announcing “My lips burned etc., etc….”
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I think Scottie McMullett lives in Tracy.
ReplyDeleteprolly. Plus, his large, luscious nipple seems a little off the mark, a couple of inches farther towards his armpit than the ideal. I suppose that leaves room for his tartan sash, though.
ReplyDeleteWhen I get blocked, the sentence that comes to mind is:
ReplyDelete"...and then I said to the Archduchess, I said, '...' ", and I fill in the blank.
I always wanted to write a real bodice-ripper, but even the prospect of wrangling words like "throbbing" puts me off.