Tuesday, May 22, 2012
A funny thing happens with my brain sometimes. It manages to think of the most inappropriate things first. It's a blessing and a curse, really.
Like when I'm drafting my WIP, and I need to think of a good name for a Storyville bordello. No, I say to myself, there's no time to think of a good name, the perfect name. Just throw something lame in there as a stand-in, a temporary place holder.
Okay, myself says to I. Will do!
The name that spurts from my lazy-ass brain to my fingertips to the keys: The Spotted Cat. A great name for a nightclub. Not the best name for a whorehouse. Ew.
This has been your daily dose of D'Oh! You're welcome.