Meaghan’s Blog

I mustn't  ever make things up again without running it through a search engine, you know, because again I have taken something that already existed and thought it was something I thought of. I do not know if I took it directly from a book we have, called the book of lists which has, unsurprisingly, lists of things in it, like best novels of all time - Pride and Prejudice was number four! (War and Peace, some book with ridiculously small text and nearly a thousand pages long, was number one. We own it, but I believe nobody has read it . . .) - and things of all sorts. Anyway, they had a list of extinct birds - or I think it was a list of ones that couldn't fly. As it turns out, one month I have for my story, Moa, is actually a bird, which became extinct in the 17th century or something. It was some sort of ten-foot-tall turkey, according to them. This book was published in 1977, so most of everything is outdated by now. Still, I think I may have known this when thinking up my months, but I lost this book around September of last year and only found it a few days ago, and I think it was already lost when I made up those months. I will still keep it.

Sarah has gone to visit Addison and Kaytlyn (my brother and my sister-in-law) until Saturday - I guess I should take this opportunity to work on that third chapter, but I have not been thinking about it much so I have no real ideas for it. My eyes have improved, too - I do not know if I have said that - and I am trying to take it easy. No looking outside too much - it is very snowy everywhere, and very sunny, and therefore very bright - if I look at lights too long, my eyes will hurt. I can't watch the television too long either, since it's making me tired lately. But I can write all day, or as much as my hands can stand to. I know eventually the ideas I need to continue with my story will come to me. I cannot skip ahead, though, and keep on writing - that is a bad habit of mine as things are, and if I do that it is exceedingly likely I will have to write the part or parts all again, which is dreadfully a nuisance. However, at times I do not much mind it if I have found there is much more I need to add anyway.

My mother has just read the title of this and inquired, 'Moa? What's Moa?' and experimented saying it differently, though the first time was right, and I told her I had written about it before with exaggerated disappointment. She mumbled something as she went away about me being crushed and I told her it was explained in this blog entry. Oh dear, we are far too sarcastic sometimes.