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Isabella Chickens

I just saw a job ad that looked like it was advertising for a "Pogram Officer". Had to do a massive double-take to confirm that they do in fact want PROGRAM officers.

Today was awful and I was extremely ill, but I shan't post in a negative fashion.

Instead I shall announce that my 50 pages in 50 days deadline is here! I wrote 41 pages in 50 days, which, while short of my goal, I'm pretty happy with. I've gotten the story moving, and I have a little more direction for Draft 5.1, so that's a good start, I think.

I shan't set myself another goal immediately, as there's other stuff I'd like to work on, and I want to make a new start on some of the projects I lose when my USB drive died. Some of them perhaps, are lost for the better, but I'm certainly going to have another look at them all and see what I want to be going on with.

Besides, I've still got to start that story based on those two weird dreams I had, cos what the hell were they? Good dreams, good story, deserve to be used.

And not wanting to go into detail about that particular project, I have asked flippyfrog for a prompt word or similar, just to give me something to talk about today.

She has, unsurprisingly to those of us who know her, provided me with "chickens". But I can work with that.

When I was smaller than I am now, my Grandmother asked me what I wanted for Christmas. My response was that I wanted a stuffed chicken, as I had an impressive collection of stuffed animals, but among them no chickens were to be seen. Ornamental chickens abound, drawings of chickens no problem. It has been more than ten years and my Grandmother and I both continue to search for a stuffed chicken. Last year she managed to find me a duck, but so far I'm winning on account of buying her a rooster... some might call that a score, but we don't.

Nine-year-old Kayt said chicken and she MEANT chicken.

And so into the world go I, having turned my prompt-word into a dull personal anecdote.

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