Almond-scented heroines.
I am opposed to heroines with almond-scented hair. Especially in thrillers. Thrillers generally consist of a lot more running than bathing, so women who manage to maintain a delicate and sensual odor under thriller-style duress just seem preposterous to me. I needed to get that out in the open. I feel better.
I wonder if this process will get easier and less stressful one day. Perhaps if I was not obsessive-compulsive, anal-retentive, and just generally neurotic. As it is, every sentence ended is a cause for panic. "Now what?" My heart continues to skitter. My armpits continue to tingle. My hands continue to quiver. And, somehow, I continue to meet my quota. Against all odds. I can't explain it. The quota is a good thing. I bow before the quota. In fact, I am going to begin capitalizing the Quota, so that it shines as a Platonic Eidolon amongst paltry, lower-case formatives.
I sat down at my computer today at 12:49 pm and agonized. I had no idea what to write. I wrote two words, probably "the" and maybe "thing," and then I checked my word count. I agonized some more because two words didn't put me close to my Quota of 5001 (total). But I was the mama with the hard eyes who refuses to let the kid leave the table until he's finished every last brussel sprout, even the one he threw on the floor and the dog licked. And I finished at 5028 just as the baby woke from his nap at 2:28. And, yes, I've already begun to dread tomorrow. Woe is me.
All hail the Quota.
Favorite line of the day:
My hero needed a leading lady, so I made one for him, using a Cosmo and a lot of clichés from Harlequin-style romance novels that I had read as a sweaty teenager.
posted by Autumn @ 4:03 PM
3 Comments:
i like when fragrant odours are mixed with hardcore body scents, sweat and sandalwood, honey and skin, dirty hair and bergamot being incredibly attracted to and by scent, i think it is important that she smell good, not sweet or perfumeny but fleshy and lush, and if a passerby notices that at some point she tried to smell good (ie hint of yesterday's fragrance) that is so hot, erections have been sprung by so much less
Smelling good is fine. But, for example, in Dan Brown's novel Angels and Demons the stunningly hot Italian genius physicist with long, tanned legs and flowing, raven hair and, of course, heaving breasts still had almond-scented hair after having just come from a deep sea diving expedition and then having spent hours running, jumping, heaving, whatever without any sort of rest or reprieve. Tell me she didn't stink! So why didn't he say that she stunk! But NOOOOOO her hair still smelled like freaking almonds.
sounds like selective memory editing, you only recall the almonds you forget the foul beef or coffee breath and the cumin-scented body odour.
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