Update Schedule

There was once an update schedule. It lived a good life, a peaceful life. A quiet life. But then... things began to change. It became more and more erratic, sometimes completely disobeying its very reason for existance. And at last, the update schedule could take no more. It cast off its chains and went free, seeking new lands where it would be appreciated. This message it left where once it had lived, to warn other schedules of the peril.

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Your Writing Is What You Eat

Through some miracle, motivation has returned. I'm on page 38 (after starting from the beginning, I'm trying for a complete run-through before finishing so I can get the ending right), and I have 77,000 words. I read something like 50 pages of Lord of Chaos (can I just say that I really hope Robert Jordan's e key got stuck, because I certainly wouldn't have wanted to publish that on purpose). Anyway, so, back to the title, which was intended to be witty but actually sounds really stupid. I can't think of a better one, though, so you're just going to have to manage.
So, the story that was funny in my head but in reality is probably not worth a post:
I was writing. And eating cheez-its (no, there's no danger to my keyboard. Don't deny me my cheez-its. I shall ignore the not-yet-existant disapprovial that is sure to come from anyone reading this). And then this happened:
"He pulled out the lock picks he'd fashioned out of some bent paperclips. He'd been an expert at picking any lock his parents could produce for the junk food cabinet when he was eight, but that was all in the past and he barely remembered a thing. He'd searched the internet for lock-picking instructions, and was reasonably certain that he was completely unable to do anything of the sort, but it was still worth a try, if only so that he could put the entire business out of his mind and stop sneaking around in back alleys that almost certainly had security cameras in them with lock picks.
      He inserted the first pick into the lock and fumbled around. He thought he was supposed to be looking for the tumbler, or perhaps a different piece of the lock. Or was there more than one tumbler? Wasn't that a type of glass? He closed his eyes and felt around, trying to bring up long buried instincts. Perhaps if he pretended there were cheez-its inside…

      Something clicked in the lock. Holding his breath, he tried the handle, which turned easily. It occurred to him that he probably should have tried turning the handle in the first place. He opened the door carefully, with a minimum of creaking, and entered the closet, feeling a pang of disappointment when he discovered that a handy maintenance worker had completely failed to helpfully leave a box of cheez-its on a shelf. He'd have to buy himself some if he survived the experience. He was sure real criminals didn't have to bribe themselves with cheese crackers to get themselves to continue. Although come to think of it, it might not be such a bad thing if he stopped. He might not consider himself a "real" criminal, but he was certainly breaking and entering."
-From my yet to be titled unfinished draft
I apologize for the double spacing; all of my attempts to get rid of it only made things worse. Please excuse the quality of this excerpt (remember: this is from what's just barely a first draft). I'm pretty sure this is my first excerpt I've posted on here, so... enjoy.
Oh, and I have absolutely zero idea how to pick locks. I didn't even Google it. Feel free to point out any mistakes in my hopefully-so-undetailed-that-no-one-will-be-able-to-complain scene.

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