How many words are in a short story? I know a novel has 50,000, so is it 10K? 15K Thereabouts? Because I have close to a short story written, and maybe I could sell it. And They'd write me hand written letters telling me how refreshing and vivid my writing is. And They would beg me to write more, but I'd get freaked and not be able to, but I WOULD, which would make me awesome, and beloved, and rich, and David Letterman would have me on his show, and I'd be charming and funny and he'd kiss my hand at the end like he does with Amanda Peet - he sooo has the hots for her - and I would be subversive and NOT go on Leno because he's a tool with a weird, high voice, and he does the fake shoulder-laugh-shrug thing that bugs me, but I would go on Oprah and I'll tell you why:
Because she gives people stuff, and I'm just enough of a whore to want free things. Even though at this point I am successful and published, and the darlin gof hte literary world, and there's talk of Pulitzer and other prizes - I need to research what prizes there are to win - but it's Oprah! And during the break I'd do her famous line back at her: "Did you tell Harpo ta beat me? All. My. Life. I been hiding from my daddy. And my brothers. And.." And then the other: "Ha ha ha, Miss Sophia home now." And I'd tell her that movie makes me cry every time I see it and is she really secretly dating Jamie Foxx and we'd go out and I'd get her to eat pizza with me.
So. How many words are in a short story?
This is basically what ran through my head on my run this morning. Oh, and I RAN. No jogging today. My hips were loose, my knees felt good, I had my shoulders down and my stride was long and it felt GOOOOD in the cool morning weather. I miss flat out running. I wish I lived closer to the high school here so I could run on the track. Sprinting. I'm a good sprinter. Sprinting is fun. Mainly, I like to do the post running, "whew!" walk. You know that walk: runners do that weird lean back to slow down, then put one hand on their hip and breath heavy, and look around non-chalantly? Like, yeah, I just friggin' ran flat out, oh, did Bob come? Is he in the stadium? Huh. Yeah. Too bad you can't burn calories and stay toned from that, because I have that DOWN.
Why don't people pay me to write funny stuff? Oh, yeah. Because I don't know how to make people DO THAT. I should google that. Or you know... go finish the laundry.
OFF TOPIC: If you do NOT want to be on a sex filter, tell me. Don't say you DO. Say you do NOT. To be found on the sex filter: whining, bravas, how to do's, why do I not get all the sex I want, and oh my god, this shouldn't happen. Tiff and Beth? You two are NOT ON THE FILTER. Because we don't talk about sex in our family. Unless you are our mother, in which case you never SHUT YOUR TRAP ABOUT IT AND ARE SCARRING YOUR DAUGHTERS FOR LIFE. For non-family members: think a morph of Patsy and Edina WITHOUT a filter. Yeah. Bad stuff. Don't want to hear about my father-shutupSHUTUP! LALALALALA!!! *cries*
Oh, speaking of the BBC... (man, I am all over the map today) Do ANY of my UK friends out there have copied of This Life or Ultraviolet? That they'd be willing to copy for me? (I'd pay, of course) Amazon.co.uk has both, but they are CRAZY expensive, and not in US DVD format. ACHING WITH NEED.
And now for something completely different: LINKS!
If you haven't seen The Shining trailer, it's HILARIOUS.
One more: GizOOGLE! Dag, yo, this be tha shiznit. Okay, you can download a client to convert your IM text mesaging into gangsta talk. Whu whu? (...and my icon is directed at MYSELF. OMG - so VERBOSE!)