Flipped the channel to the public television station and left that on for background morning chatter. The first thing I saw was a mini Neil Gaiman. Dispensing writing advice. From within a falafel.
Know what happens in a bookstore at night once everyone has left? This is awesome.
This is how it REALLY is. Unfortunately.
It’s nothing too terribly fancy, but I love it. I can’t tell you why. I found twelve of them at my mother’s house in a back room, drooled a little, and asked her where she’d found them. She said “Big Lots” and “a while ago”. A dated church bulletin crammed down in between the pages of the top one on the stack revealed what “a while ago” means. We’re talking 1993 here, folks. (At her church, that’s two or three pastors ago, even.) They’re slim, they’re comfortably floppy, they’re probably theme books, and there are hieroglyphics everywhere on the cover, but no company name to be found. They are each saddle-stitched in a (removable? Not mine, so I didn’t try too hard) vinyl slipcover, and there are maybe, maybe, 20-30 pages in each of these babies, max. I want some. They make me want to write quick short stories with a definite ending instead of the long rambling stuff I always start in Word docs on my computer and never finish. They also would work with my left-handedness, and not many journals actually do. Help me out. Where can I buy these? (And no, don’t think my mother will give me one for a second. No...
Stephen Hawking meets literary dreams meets Captain Obvious.
Need a new purpose for your old books? Flavorwire has some crazy/unique/neat ideas, but be warned: they’re not for the faint of heart. Some make my head spin like that chick from The Exorcist.
Using a typewriter brings back powerful, tactile memories of my first desktop publishing days. These fonts do it to me, too.