Damn you, spell check.
So, I wrote an email to a client today. It was just a standard work email: thanks for this, plans for that. Sent. But then I realized I had forgotten an item. So I had to write a second email, with apologies for the inconvenience of two emails.
Now. For a writer, I can be a crap speller. Words like, receive, definitely, inconvenient trip me up. Hey, I’m not ashamed to admit it. I graduated magna cum laude and everything. But, our emails run spell check automatically. I knew I had spelled inconvenient wrong, so I accepted the changes and moved on.
Then later I get an email from the client. It said something to the effect of, “ha ha, Heather, thanks for the laugh! See below.”
Imagine my surprise, nay horror, to discover I’d emailed our client and said, “I apologize for the incontinence.”
Mother of God.
Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me?? Incontinence. I apologized for the incontinence.
That’s kind of the culmination of my whole week. It’s been going just bad enough to imply something was going to run amok at some point, but please. The humanity.
In other news, writing has been going delightfully, I must say. I’m taking another online writing course, which is going well. I braved ridiculously high temperatures to venture into The Big City in search of some inspiration. Inspiration hit me in the form of the interior of a 100 year old building!
Why, what a coincidence (read: totally not a coincidence)! One of my works in progress takes place in the 1910s. Part of me wants to paint the kitchen these colors.
I have always tried to write my novels beginning to end. Now that I have zero free time and my laptop is fried, I’ve actually been writing in scenes. Sequences. I write in an old school, 5 Star college ruled notebook and, every now and then, throw The Hubs off the family computer and type everything up. It’s time consuming. It’s messy and frazzled and jumbled and unorganized. But it’s amazing.
I took my notebook to Starbucks the other day after work and became one of Those People sitting, drinking a Frappechino (light, because I’m neurotic about counting calories), and writing. Heaven! I scribbled, I crossed out, I revised! I wrote out this incredible scene to hook together two other scenes I’d written earlier in the week! This was living! This was creating!
And then I looked down and realized I’d lost a critical button on my blouse and was inadvertently exposing my (albeit fantastic) bra to all the other patrons. Information that would have been helpful, say, an hour previous.
This explains the guy who not only held the door open for me, but also let me go in front of him in line.