And I keep waiting, waiting on the world.
I seem to be having one of the rough days. The kind where it seems like everything is in slow motion, just waiting on that first spark that catches.
Do you know, when you're reading a book and at some point a week goes by in steady time for the main character and the author just summarizes it in a few paragraphs?
I feel as though this year and maybe even last year, could be summarized in a few paragraphs and just slipped into the middle of the book. It's the kind of thing a reader guiltily skims through, not really worried about the down time, but not appreciating that the main character had to go through all of that. Every minute of it, experience it all...and you just skimmed a couple paragraphs and it was over.
I'm not trying to make you feel bad (well, maybe a little) but you have to admit, the analogy brings a certain poignancy to the boredom that is right now for me.
On the upside, I might be getting some time off from work in the next couple months where I could possibly devote a large amount of time to writing.
I have been feeling mentally constipated (I apologize for the crudity, but that is truly the best metaphor) lately and really need to get it all out on paper. I figure, time off and no money will prove a very good laxative.
Now I really feel bad about that metaphor. Seriously, I am sorry. This sort of thing will only get worse until I find time to really write.
Showing posts with label nonsense. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nonsense. Show all posts
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
A Scattered Accounting
Whoo, so it's been a little while since I blogged. Sorry 'bout that ya'll. I've been terribly scattered lately. I really do need an assistant to keep me organized. Between trying to make sure all the bills get paid on time, working six days a week, the apartment stays clean, Pangur Ban is fed-oh crap I forgot to refill her dish, dammit!
Hold on a sec, I'll be right back.....
Okay! So, as you might guess, blogging is not exactly at the top of the list. It's true, there have been several times in the last couple weeks where I have wanted to blog, but it's usually about silly things that probably only matter to eccentric, hermit-wannabe authors like me.
I haven't been writing much if at all, and it's seriously frustrating me. Logically, I know that I'll be much more emotionally stable if I get a few chapters out of my system, but I'm rebelling for some stupid reason.
I downloaded Flyleaf's 2009 album, Memento Mori, last week and I have been listening almost exclusively to it since. Literally, all of my side thoughts have been expressed in lyrics lately. It's wonderful in a frustratingly plagiaristic sort of way.
Also, I'm close to launching into a full rant on the topic of cuss words. It is a topic that frustrates me considerably, as I can see both sides of the story and wish only that everyone else could. They are WORDS. Words have only the power we give them. So, like anything else, the spirit in which they are used must be taken into consideration before sentencing someone.
Perhaps scattered was not a strong enough word to use to describe me lately. In fact, an example might best serve to demonstrate.
Today I woke up, fed Pangur, showered, filled out my CA voting ballot, called my dad, got dressed, checked the mail, drove to drop off my ballot, paid my electricity bill, went to the bank, filled out a credit card application, called my mom, texted my brother, surfed Amazon, checked FB, dA and YouTube, read the first 2 chapters of The Golden Lily, by Richelle Mead, and then realized it was 1:30 pm and I hadn't had anything to eat.
Now, normally in a day I might accomplish 3 of those things. In a WHOLE day, not in a matter of hours. I mean truthfully, out of all those, only 3 things. I could have a day where all I do is feed Pangur, shower and surf Amazon. And that is typical.
And now that I have to leave for work in half an hour I realize that I forgot to call the tire store about my car. Even though I made a list (a very scattered, crazy list of things to do, things to buy, and things to remember).
I'm this cose *hold up fingers about an inch apart* to giving up. I need an assistant, a keeper....
And for some reason, I am sounding more and more like Damon when I lose my temper, I keep saying things like "Bloody hell!" and "Blast it!" and "Oh for the love of..." I think I hang out with him too much. Actually, he's been avoiding me a bit lately, my hectic moods make him uncomfortable.
I think if I could convince myself to go to sleep before 2 am I might be able to start waking up earlier and actually accomplish something.
Off topic(not that there was a specific topic): I think I want the soundtrack to the new Underworld movie...I love Lacey Sturm's and Evanescence's contribution there.
I believe, what if I believe you? Forgive, relieve me, please come back to life. Come back to my life.
Hold on a sec, I'll be right back.....
Okay! So, as you might guess, blogging is not exactly at the top of the list. It's true, there have been several times in the last couple weeks where I have wanted to blog, but it's usually about silly things that probably only matter to eccentric, hermit-wannabe authors like me.
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| My CafePress shirt, from CASTLE(abc TV show) |
I haven't been writing much if at all, and it's seriously frustrating me. Logically, I know that I'll be much more emotionally stable if I get a few chapters out of my system, but I'm rebelling for some stupid reason.
I downloaded Flyleaf's 2009 album, Memento Mori, last week and I have been listening almost exclusively to it since. Literally, all of my side thoughts have been expressed in lyrics lately. It's wonderful in a frustratingly plagiaristic sort of way.
Also, I'm close to launching into a full rant on the topic of cuss words. It is a topic that frustrates me considerably, as I can see both sides of the story and wish only that everyone else could. They are WORDS. Words have only the power we give them. So, like anything else, the spirit in which they are used must be taken into consideration before sentencing someone.
Perhaps scattered was not a strong enough word to use to describe me lately. In fact, an example might best serve to demonstrate.
Today I woke up, fed Pangur, showered, filled out my CA voting ballot, called my dad, got dressed, checked the mail, drove to drop off my ballot, paid my electricity bill, went to the bank, filled out a credit card application, called my mom, texted my brother, surfed Amazon, checked FB, dA and YouTube, read the first 2 chapters of The Golden Lily, by Richelle Mead, and then realized it was 1:30 pm and I hadn't had anything to eat.
Now, normally in a day I might accomplish 3 of those things. In a WHOLE day, not in a matter of hours. I mean truthfully, out of all those, only 3 things. I could have a day where all I do is feed Pangur, shower and surf Amazon. And that is typical.
And now that I have to leave for work in half an hour I realize that I forgot to call the tire store about my car. Even though I made a list (a very scattered, crazy list of things to do, things to buy, and things to remember).
I'm this cose *hold up fingers about an inch apart* to giving up. I need an assistant, a keeper....
And for some reason, I am sounding more and more like Damon when I lose my temper, I keep saying things like "Bloody hell!" and "Blast it!" and "Oh for the love of..." I think I hang out with him too much. Actually, he's been avoiding me a bit lately, my hectic moods make him uncomfortable.
I think if I could convince myself to go to sleep before 2 am I might be able to start waking up earlier and actually accomplish something.
Off topic(not that there was a specific topic): I think I want the soundtrack to the new Underworld movie...I love Lacey Sturm's and Evanescence's contribution there.
I believe, what if I believe you? Forgive, relieve me, please come back to life. Come back to my life.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
But She Has A Great Personality!
I was looking at someone I've know for about five months today. Not a friend, just an acquaintance that I'm not overly fond of. As I looked, I realized that the person was really very unattractive. This seems harsh, I know, but allow me to explain.
I realized right after this exactly how harsh that really was, and immediately began to question my realization. Why was this person suddenly so unattractive, I asked myself? It came to me that this wasn't a sudden development. Rather, over the time I have known this person they have been slipping more and more in my perception. Perhaps interestingly, their outward appearance has not altered in that time, but I have grown to know them better and I realized that their insides were ugly.
The person is not attractive in physical aspects, but if their personality was better then it would be something easily overlooked. It's a cliche I know, but the line "oh, but they have a great personality" is true. Some people are plain or even unattractive by society's standards, but they have shining warmth and good humor which makes them beautiful.
In contrast to this person I was examining today, a few years ago I met a young man in a work situation (I no longer know him, so I feel I may be a little freer with details). When I met the young man, my first impression was not complimentary. Aside from his rather plain exterior, he seemed to have a sour disposition, and not much of a sense of humor. Being that it was a work situation, and not merely social, I was forced to endure this man whom I had immediately judged to be a donkey's rear end.
Day by day, I realized I was wrong. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, an incredible sense of duty, and ambition up the wazoo.
As time as passed, I have realized how much we were actually alike. It has given me a nightmare of how people may in fact preceive me upon first meeting.
As my observations of his inner self grew, the way I saw his exterior changed as well. The plain young man was replaced by someone I respected and liked. I became attached and considered him a friend, and then began to wish for more. I didn't know at the time how my perception of him had altered from what a casual observer might find, until I introduced him to my best friend at the time.
She, of course, knew my feelings on the topic of him, and from my descriptions expected some godly representation of a man. Upon finding a rather plain, apparently serious young man, she was disappointed and did not hesitate much to tell me so.
There is a person I know now for whom I have enormous liking (friendship wise, don't get any ideas) and as I had this entire thought process today I began to wonder if my perception of this person had changed as well. As I thought, I couldn't see that it had, because this person had presented to me a warm, humorous exterior from the start. I came to the conclusion rather swiftly that I could not judge whether or not this person was attractive, because I had a biased opinion. The personality of this person is such that I would answer in the affirmative almost no matter what.
I could go over every relationship, of every degree, that I engage in with the humans around me, and find dozens more examples of this.
I am writing this morning to tell you, quite simply, that your personality (at least for me) is at least 80% of the beauty (or lack thereof) that I will perceive within you. First impressions are not always lasting. If I am wrong about you, and you show me, then I will change my opinions and my impression of you.
This has made me think of who I project to others, as well. I haven't been able to decide if I like who I think I'm projecting. Or, rather, if I like how people may be perceiving me. As I am sure I have said many times before, I really like myself. I do. But I know that not everyone is going to, and selfishly, I want them all to.
Food for thought.
On a side note: I am sunburned and uncomfortable. PALE AND PROUD! (my version of P & P)
I realized right after this exactly how harsh that really was, and immediately began to question my realization. Why was this person suddenly so unattractive, I asked myself? It came to me that this wasn't a sudden development. Rather, over the time I have known this person they have been slipping more and more in my perception. Perhaps interestingly, their outward appearance has not altered in that time, but I have grown to know them better and I realized that their insides were ugly.
The person is not attractive in physical aspects, but if their personality was better then it would be something easily overlooked. It's a cliche I know, but the line "oh, but they have a great personality" is true. Some people are plain or even unattractive by society's standards, but they have shining warmth and good humor which makes them beautiful.
In contrast to this person I was examining today, a few years ago I met a young man in a work situation (I no longer know him, so I feel I may be a little freer with details). When I met the young man, my first impression was not complimentary. Aside from his rather plain exterior, he seemed to have a sour disposition, and not much of a sense of humor. Being that it was a work situation, and not merely social, I was forced to endure this man whom I had immediately judged to be a donkey's rear end.
Day by day, I realized I was wrong. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, an incredible sense of duty, and ambition up the wazoo.
As time as passed, I have realized how much we were actually alike. It has given me a nightmare of how people may in fact preceive me upon first meeting.
As my observations of his inner self grew, the way I saw his exterior changed as well. The plain young man was replaced by someone I respected and liked. I became attached and considered him a friend, and then began to wish for more. I didn't know at the time how my perception of him had altered from what a casual observer might find, until I introduced him to my best friend at the time.
She, of course, knew my feelings on the topic of him, and from my descriptions expected some godly representation of a man. Upon finding a rather plain, apparently serious young man, she was disappointed and did not hesitate much to tell me so.
There is a person I know now for whom I have enormous liking (friendship wise, don't get any ideas) and as I had this entire thought process today I began to wonder if my perception of this person had changed as well. As I thought, I couldn't see that it had, because this person had presented to me a warm, humorous exterior from the start. I came to the conclusion rather swiftly that I could not judge whether or not this person was attractive, because I had a biased opinion. The personality of this person is such that I would answer in the affirmative almost no matter what.
I could go over every relationship, of every degree, that I engage in with the humans around me, and find dozens more examples of this.
I am writing this morning to tell you, quite simply, that your personality (at least for me) is at least 80% of the beauty (or lack thereof) that I will perceive within you. First impressions are not always lasting. If I am wrong about you, and you show me, then I will change my opinions and my impression of you.
This has made me think of who I project to others, as well. I haven't been able to decide if I like who I think I'm projecting. Or, rather, if I like how people may be perceiving me. As I am sure I have said many times before, I really like myself. I do. But I know that not everyone is going to, and selfishly, I want them all to.
Food for thought.
On a side note: I am sunburned and uncomfortable. PALE AND PROUD! (my version of P & P)
Friday, April 6, 2012
Out of Frustrating Sometimes Comes Some Good
My scheduler at work has been annoying me rather significantly lately. You see, I am supposed to be a server/busser in our restaurant. Lately though, I have been scheduled to cashier. The problem should be clear to anyone in the restaurant business, but if you aren't I will explain:
Servers make mullah tips.
Bussers make so-so tips.
Cashiers make next to no tips.
The reason I left my former job for a job that pays a full dollar an hour less was that I would be making tips. In the first couple of months at my job I was making about $700/month in tips, and only $750 in actual paychecks.
So, instead of only making $8/hr, I was in fact making about $18/hr...nearly unheard of in this county.
Now, cashiering, I am making much, much less. Barely enough to survive on. Actually, I am not making enough to survive on. I have made my issues known, and have been assured that it will only be for about another week, but still I am very tight on cash.
The good that has come out of this very frustrating bad is this: Cashiering is so damn boring and slow that I have been able to roughly outline the entire first half of Shadows On The Wall this week. HUZZAH!
Unfortunately, I have come across a new problem: a plothole.(Like a pothole in the road, only it's in the storyline).
A plothole right smack dab in the middle of the book. The rough draft that I wrote approx. 6 years ago has this huge hole, like a time vortex that one of the characters just slipped into and disappeared while the others carried on as if nothing had happened. I mean, they should feel really awful for letting that happen...terriblehuman beings.
I think I have come up with a cure for the plothole, but getting the story back on track after that hole may in fact be difficult.
Nonetheless, the fact that I have had so much idle time on my hands at work lately has brought this bugger of a problem to my attention far before it became a really difficult issue.
I suppose I should be a bit on the thankful side that I have had the extra time, but my wallet and bank account are not feeling very magnanimous.
This looking on the bright side post brought to you by: Shanco.corporations.
(Lobbied against by: The wallet and bank account of Shannon A Hiner.)
On a completely unrelated side note: Long time and very successful authors may not be effected so much by their reviews on book selling websites, but I certainly am. I feel that it is necessary to give a hugely thankful shout out to my first reviewer in the iTunes bookstore, a certain Beekersc. I appreciate so much that you took the time to not only read Only The Stars Know but to also leave a few lines telling others how much you enjoyed it.
Only The Stars Know in the iTunes Store
Remember everyone: A book read, but not reviewed, kills a faerie. No joke.
Servers make mullah tips.
Bussers make so-so tips.
Cashiers make next to no tips.
The reason I left my former job for a job that pays a full dollar an hour less was that I would be making tips. In the first couple of months at my job I was making about $700/month in tips, and only $750 in actual paychecks.
So, instead of only making $8/hr, I was in fact making about $18/hr...nearly unheard of in this county.
Now, cashiering, I am making much, much less. Barely enough to survive on. Actually, I am not making enough to survive on. I have made my issues known, and have been assured that it will only be for about another week, but still I am very tight on cash.
The good that has come out of this very frustrating bad is this: Cashiering is so damn boring and slow that I have been able to roughly outline the entire first half of Shadows On The Wall this week. HUZZAH!
Unfortunately, I have come across a new problem: a plothole.(Like a pothole in the road, only it's in the storyline).
A plothole right smack dab in the middle of the book. The rough draft that I wrote approx. 6 years ago has this huge hole, like a time vortex that one of the characters just slipped into and disappeared while the others carried on as if nothing had happened. I mean, they should feel really awful for letting that happen...terrible
I think I have come up with a cure for the plothole, but getting the story back on track after that hole may in fact be difficult.
Nonetheless, the fact that I have had so much idle time on my hands at work lately has brought this bugger of a problem to my attention far before it became a really difficult issue.
I suppose I should be a bit on the thankful side that I have had the extra time, but my wallet and bank account are not feeling very magnanimous.
This looking on the bright side post brought to you by: Shanco.corporations.
(Lobbied against by: The wallet and bank account of Shannon A Hiner.)
On a completely unrelated side note: Long time and very successful authors may not be effected so much by their reviews on book selling websites, but I certainly am. I feel that it is necessary to give a hugely thankful shout out to my first reviewer in the iTunes bookstore, a certain Beekersc. I appreciate so much that you took the time to not only read Only The Stars Know but to also leave a few lines telling others how much you enjoyed it.
Only The Stars Know in the iTunes Store
Remember everyone: A book read, but not reviewed, kills a faerie. No joke.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
When Being Happy Becomes A Problem
So, I'm pretty content at the moment. Yep. I mean, sure, there are a few things that I would love to change (having to work in customer service, oversleeping the alarm everyday, basically talking to myself and receiving odd looks for it), but on the whole I've been fairly happy in the last month.
I've settled in at the new job, got rid of the troublesome roommate, and I've been very adventurous in the kitchen lately. I'm practically on cloud nine.
Are you wondering why it almost sounds as though I am complaining?
Well, see here's the problem: I'm rewriting Shadows On The Wall. What, you mean that one sentence doesn't answer all your questions? I suppose I will explain then.
When I originally wrote Shadows On the Wall it was the spring of 2006. My sophomore year of high school, and also the year I passed the CA HS Proficiency Exam and left high school behind forever. It was the year I got my license, my first job, and we moved from Modesto to Oroville. BIG Year. (I also started writing Die For Me Again, but that was in the autumn.)
In the Spring of 2006 I let myself fall in deep deep like with someone entirely unsuitable and unavailable to me. I already loved this boy as a friend, so it was doubly bad. Unwittingly, he ended up breaking my heart that spring, or rather, I let my heart break over him. He really didn't do anything to break it, so I shouldn't blame him.
Well, those of you who don't know me all that well will not realize how catastrophic this was. I don't just get crushes on guys, when I decide I like them I go head over freaking high heels and totally lose my heart. No, really, I don't do anything halfway, especially not love. So while this wonderful boy thought we were just really good friends, I was in fact losing my mind over why he didn't like me in the same way.
When I realized he never would, and that I couldn't simply be 'just friends' with him, my heart did a weepy little break in two and I haven't been the same since. I believe that was the first time my heart was truly broken. (There have honestly only been two times in twenty-two years).
In the year following this heart break I completed two novels in the Immortal World series, one and a half standalone novels, and droves upon droves of weepy heartbroken prose.
Have you caught on yet? When I am heartbroken I write like crazy. And apparently, I write rather well because two of the most popular IW books came out of utter heartbreak.
I am now faced with two distinctly different problems, both resulting from the fact that I am in a happy state of mind currently:
1. I can't seem to write easily when I am happy.
2. Shadows On The Wall is a very emotionally stormy book, with deep lows--something that is quite hard to write from a good mood.
The answer? I'm not sure. I suppose I could go out and find some completely unsuitable man to fall head over heels for, in the hopes that he will tear my heart asunder and leave me a wasted shell of a woman....but that seems like an awful lot of work, and plus, there really aren't any worthy males to be had at the moment.
Nope, I just don't know. It's a problem, that is for certain.
Suggestions are welcome (with the understanding that, depending upon my mood, I may rip them apart or take them out of context or do any number of annoying/shannon-like things with them).
I've settled in at the new job, got rid of the troublesome roommate, and I've been very adventurous in the kitchen lately. I'm practically on cloud nine.
Are you wondering why it almost sounds as though I am complaining?
Well, see here's the problem: I'm rewriting Shadows On The Wall. What, you mean that one sentence doesn't answer all your questions? I suppose I will explain then.
When I originally wrote Shadows On the Wall it was the spring of 2006. My sophomore year of high school, and also the year I passed the CA HS Proficiency Exam and left high school behind forever. It was the year I got my license, my first job, and we moved from Modesto to Oroville. BIG Year. (I also started writing Die For Me Again, but that was in the autumn.)
In the Spring of 2006 I let myself fall in deep deep like with someone entirely unsuitable and unavailable to me. I already loved this boy as a friend, so it was doubly bad. Unwittingly, he ended up breaking my heart that spring, or rather, I let my heart break over him. He really didn't do anything to break it, so I shouldn't blame him.
Well, those of you who don't know me all that well will not realize how catastrophic this was. I don't just get crushes on guys, when I decide I like them I go head over freaking high heels and totally lose my heart. No, really, I don't do anything halfway, especially not love. So while this wonderful boy thought we were just really good friends, I was in fact losing my mind over why he didn't like me in the same way.
When I realized he never would, and that I couldn't simply be 'just friends' with him, my heart did a weepy little break in two and I haven't been the same since. I believe that was the first time my heart was truly broken. (There have honestly only been two times in twenty-two years).
In the year following this heart break I completed two novels in the Immortal World series, one and a half standalone novels, and droves upon droves of weepy heartbroken prose.
Have you caught on yet? When I am heartbroken I write like crazy. And apparently, I write rather well because two of the most popular IW books came out of utter heartbreak.
I am now faced with two distinctly different problems, both resulting from the fact that I am in a happy state of mind currently:
1. I can't seem to write easily when I am happy.
2. Shadows On The Wall is a very emotionally stormy book, with deep lows--something that is quite hard to write from a good mood.
The answer? I'm not sure. I suppose I could go out and find some completely unsuitable man to fall head over heels for, in the hopes that he will tear my heart asunder and leave me a wasted shell of a woman....but that seems like an awful lot of work, and plus, there really aren't any worthy males to be had at the moment.
Nope, I just don't know. It's a problem, that is for certain.
Suggestions are welcome (with the understanding that, depending upon my mood, I may rip them apart or take them out of context or do any number of annoying/shannon-like things with them).
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Obsessions, Procrastination and Possibly Some ADD
I am absolutely obsessed with the coast of California. I'm really not sure why. The ocean is too cold this far North to really enjoy. The beaches are mostly rocky and there are tons of hippies all around, but I can't seem to stop researching, viewing pictures of, and visiting the coast. I love it. It's the most beautiful place on Earth to me.
Yesterday I was online and somehow (I really don't remember how) I ended up looking at a map of the state up toward Crescent City. An hour later I was doing research on estuarine lagoons and an hour after that I was trying to figure out how to place a story around it. I know, this is ridiculous!
Anyway, I'm trying to apologize in advance in case any odd coastal scenes pop up in the next couple books. Like I said I can't seem to help it.
I'm having a lot of trouble with procrastination and concentration lately. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Damon smacked down another ultimatum soon. I'm trying to avoid that, but I make no promises. I'm out of unread books at the moment, having just finished 2 in the last 3 days. I will try very hard not to order anymore for some time. I have a bad case of trigger finger whenever I am on Amazon.
That should, naturally, mean I should avoid Amazon, but you see: I end up on Amazon as a result of viewing book trailers on YouTube. And I end up on YouTube because I see book ads on Facebook. And of course, I'm on Facebook to let you know that I just wrote another blog. Vicious circle it is.
The upshot of this is, after I finish this blog and let you all know that I have written it, I will probably end up ordering another book. I should probably be banned from the internet, but let's face it, that's not going to happen.
Well, I have started the first chapter of Shadows On The Wall, but as I said, concentration is at an all time low here. I have got to stop renting movies constantly, and going to see movies. But this month is golden as far as movies go. This weekend is definitely taken up, what with The Hunger Games. Two weeks ago it was John Carter. Two weeks from now Mirror Mirror comes out, and of course I will have to see MIB3 as well. Should be interesting...
If any of you are in the habit of praying to anyone, you might send out a request for me to have concentration and some sticktoitiveness. That would be wonderful.
Yesterday I was online and somehow (I really don't remember how) I ended up looking at a map of the state up toward Crescent City. An hour later I was doing research on estuarine lagoons and an hour after that I was trying to figure out how to place a story around it. I know, this is ridiculous!
Anyway, I'm trying to apologize in advance in case any odd coastal scenes pop up in the next couple books. Like I said I can't seem to help it.
I'm having a lot of trouble with procrastination and concentration lately. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Damon smacked down another ultimatum soon. I'm trying to avoid that, but I make no promises. I'm out of unread books at the moment, having just finished 2 in the last 3 days. I will try very hard not to order anymore for some time. I have a bad case of trigger finger whenever I am on Amazon.
That should, naturally, mean I should avoid Amazon, but you see: I end up on Amazon as a result of viewing book trailers on YouTube. And I end up on YouTube because I see book ads on Facebook. And of course, I'm on Facebook to let you know that I just wrote another blog. Vicious circle it is.
The upshot of this is, after I finish this blog and let you all know that I have written it, I will probably end up ordering another book. I should probably be banned from the internet, but let's face it, that's not going to happen.
Well, I have started the first chapter of Shadows On The Wall, but as I said, concentration is at an all time low here. I have got to stop renting movies constantly, and going to see movies. But this month is golden as far as movies go. This weekend is definitely taken up, what with The Hunger Games. Two weeks ago it was John Carter. Two weeks from now Mirror Mirror comes out, and of course I will have to see MIB3 as well. Should be interesting...
If any of you are in the habit of praying to anyone, you might send out a request for me to have concentration and some sticktoitiveness. That would be wonderful.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
The Official End
...of the Hiatus!!!
Huzzah!
About one and a half weeks after my last post I found someone I thought would be a good roommate for me. We discussed the situation thoroughly and found that we are complimentary in many aspects, though not so wrapped up in each other to pose the possible friend problem*.
My roommate is now a person who is quieter than me, studious, not a drinker, never heard of a drug, cleans her dishes directly after using them, and only speaks when spoken to. That last one actually gnaws at me a bit, I constantly feel as though I should say something because she is so dang quiet. Makes me into a bit of a chatter bug.
So the living situation is much altered and for the better. We also found a different apartment to move into, and now I have had the pleasure of decorating a place for myself without having to deal with someone whose tastes are so many worlds apart from mine. I also trust my new roommate enough to display my books in the common areas, as well as my precious breakables (tea cups, tea pots and the like) ((all my tea paraphernalia)) (((yes, I like tea that much! Don't laugh at me!))).
Life proceeds much the same at my job, there are a few people getting on my nerves, but I can handle it (with a knife buahahahaa!)
Now that I am all unpacked and happily settled in, I feel it is time to call an end to the Hiatus I declared. I am ready to put my mind back to work on what is truly important to me. I have missed my characters sorely this last month, and Damon keeps giving me pointed looks so I know it is definitely time.
To prove my devotion to getting back on track, I have some prose that I've been working on the last few days. It's almost ready, and I shall share as soon as I am done.
Thank you, my precious readers, for your infinite patience (who am I kidding? You? or maybe you?)
On an off note, there is a movie coming out every Friday this month that I want to see. How awesome is that?! Starting with John Carter, Mirror Mirror, then The Hunger Games and on through Men In Black 3...this is freaking fantastic! The movie gods are on my side for once! (either that or they are conspiring to empty my wallet)
Again, thank you all for reading and staying with me, be on the lookout for Scraps, Prose and Fun Bits from me!!!
*PFP: Where you move in with someone who is a really really good friend and then you discover just how annoying this person is to live with and it ruins both your friendship and your roommate situation.
Huzzah!
About one and a half weeks after my last post I found someone I thought would be a good roommate for me. We discussed the situation thoroughly and found that we are complimentary in many aspects, though not so wrapped up in each other to pose the possible friend problem*.
My roommate is now a person who is quieter than me, studious, not a drinker, never heard of a drug, cleans her dishes directly after using them, and only speaks when spoken to. That last one actually gnaws at me a bit, I constantly feel as though I should say something because she is so dang quiet. Makes me into a bit of a chatter bug.
So the living situation is much altered and for the better. We also found a different apartment to move into, and now I have had the pleasure of decorating a place for myself without having to deal with someone whose tastes are so many worlds apart from mine. I also trust my new roommate enough to display my books in the common areas, as well as my precious breakables (tea cups, tea pots and the like) ((all my tea paraphernalia)) (((yes, I like tea that much! Don't laugh at me!))).
Life proceeds much the same at my job, there are a few people getting on my nerves, but I can handle it (with a knife buahahahaa!)
Now that I am all unpacked and happily settled in, I feel it is time to call an end to the Hiatus I declared. I am ready to put my mind back to work on what is truly important to me. I have missed my characters sorely this last month, and Damon keeps giving me pointed looks so I know it is definitely time.
To prove my devotion to getting back on track, I have some prose that I've been working on the last few days. It's almost ready, and I shall share as soon as I am done.
Thank you, my precious readers, for your infinite patience (who am I kidding? You? or maybe you?)
On an off note, there is a movie coming out every Friday this month that I want to see. How awesome is that?! Starting with John Carter, Mirror Mirror, then The Hunger Games and on through Men In Black 3...this is freaking fantastic! The movie gods are on my side for once! (either that or they are conspiring to empty my wallet)
Again, thank you all for reading and staying with me, be on the lookout for Scraps, Prose and Fun Bits from me!!!
*PFP: Where you move in with someone who is a really really good friend and then you discover just how annoying this person is to live with and it ruins both your friendship and your roommate situation.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Just A Human
Last night I was laying down, wondering what it would be like to find out I'm a shape shifter, so far into life already. I mean, the who I am that I am I have already molded and decided I like. But what if something were to change drastically, something I could not hope to control or dictate?
It was while I was pondering this that Damon walked in, presumably for an update on how In The Darkness Remain was coming along. Before he could ask, I asked him a question instead.
"Damon, do you think there is any possibility, likelihood, or chance that I could have some latent powers or abilities that might make me non-human or an abnormal human?"
His eyes narrowed suspiciously and he said slowly, "Why?"
"Because...I know that for a human I am extraordinary and different. That sounds conceited, but I really do have faith in those facts. But, I guess it's because of all my time around non-humans, I always feel as if I'm 'just a human'. in the Immortal World it's not, 'Oh, he's a vampe and she's a human.' No, she is just a human. I am just a human. I want to be more than that."
A little smile was creeping across his face as he regarded me, "So, instead of protesting the unfair treatment of humans, you are simply wanting to be something else?"
"Well, yeah, I want to strive for more, better...I don't want the bar lowered so that I can reach it. I want to achieve reaching the bar on my own."
The smile was whole now as he stared at me, "Can you imagine if everyone thought like that? Striving for better instead of expecting the world to lower it's standards to their level?"
As a footnote to this story, I would like to add that Damon is considered to be speciesist which is the equivalent of a racist but towards other species. My post script would be that I am not a fan of people who wave the word 'racist' around. There is racism left in the world, no doubt. But waving the word around is as irresponsible and offensive as the act itself. Think before you use the word, think hard.
It was while I was pondering this that Damon walked in, presumably for an update on how In The Darkness Remain was coming along. Before he could ask, I asked him a question instead.
"Damon, do you think there is any possibility, likelihood, or chance that I could have some latent powers or abilities that might make me non-human or an abnormal human?"
His eyes narrowed suspiciously and he said slowly, "Why?"
"Because...I know that for a human I am extraordinary and different. That sounds conceited, but I really do have faith in those facts. But, I guess it's because of all my time around non-humans, I always feel as if I'm 'just a human'. in the Immortal World it's not, 'Oh, he's a vampe and she's a human.' No, she is just a human. I am just a human. I want to be more than that."
A little smile was creeping across his face as he regarded me, "So, instead of protesting the unfair treatment of humans, you are simply wanting to be something else?"
"Well, yeah, I want to strive for more, better...I don't want the bar lowered so that I can reach it. I want to achieve reaching the bar on my own."
The smile was whole now as he stared at me, "Can you imagine if everyone thought like that? Striving for better instead of expecting the world to lower it's standards to their level?"
As a footnote to this story, I would like to add that Damon is considered to be speciesist which is the equivalent of a racist but towards other species. My post script would be that I am not a fan of people who wave the word 'racist' around. There is racism left in the world, no doubt. But waving the word around is as irresponsible and offensive as the act itself. Think before you use the word, think hard.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Mission Control: We have a break-through! (BGSP)
It has been 4 long, long days since I have read a new book. This knowledge/inspiration desert has been tough on me, I won't lie.
At first, I didn't know how the Ultimatum would resolve itself. I knew I wouldn't touch a book until I had written the prologue--I couldn't go against Damon's wishes like that-- but it was very tough going.
The first day, I wrote a few paragraphs.
The second day was little better, I could think of nothing, so I went to work after writing nothing and with little hope of ever knowing a new book. The meager brainstorming I did at work resulted in me adding paragraphs of scene description to what I already had.
As I tried to sleep on the second night I had a brief burst of inspiration which made me glad that I had a pad of paper and pen on my bedside table.
On the third day, I woke to rainy skies that mirrored the aching of my soul. (melodrama, anyone?) It was my day off, so I went off to run errands. When I arrived home I spent a few hours working on the marketing strategies for Only The Stars Know. Then I spent a few more hours creating a book trailer. Then I spent an hour watching TV.
By the time 1am rolled around I was thoroughly disgusted with myself. Really, self? This was the best I could do?
So, I pulled out the big guns. Sometimes the only way to get excited about a scene is to have lived it. Sometimes the only way to get all the details is to have lived it.
After going through my Big Gun Secret Process I started scribbling madly away at my journal. I literally could not write fast enough to get the scene onto paper. By 3:30am I had the gist of it down, and I couldn't stay awake any longer. I laid aside the journal and turned out the light. I fell asleep easily.
On day four I woke up late, a result of being up until 3:30, I'm sure, so I got ready for work and left soon after. Business was slow at work, and I was itching to work on the book, so I requested to go home early and ended up leaving around 8pm. I stopped for dinner and then hightailed it home. I brainstormed for about half an hour (painting my nails is a very good way to brainstorm, I have discovered) and then discovered I had left my journal in the car. I ran through the dripping cold rain to retrieve it and then finally sat down to finish the prologue.
Last night, around about 12:15am, I finished that prologue.
It is...indescribable. Damon asked me if I love it, and I had to reply honestly that I could not love it, because of the horrible pain he suffers through for it. But I am proud of it. I think my writing ability is becoming more and more finely honed with every story I write. And I think that you, the readers, will love and hate the story, which are not two different things, but facets of the same thing: passion. And I want this story to inspire passionate responses.
Of course, the best news is that as long as I type up the prologue today, Damon said I could start reading my new books immediately! Huzzah!
At first, I didn't know how the Ultimatum would resolve itself. I knew I wouldn't touch a book until I had written the prologue--I couldn't go against Damon's wishes like that-- but it was very tough going.
The first day, I wrote a few paragraphs.
The second day was little better, I could think of nothing, so I went to work after writing nothing and with little hope of ever knowing a new book. The meager brainstorming I did at work resulted in me adding paragraphs of scene description to what I already had.
As I tried to sleep on the second night I had a brief burst of inspiration which made me glad that I had a pad of paper and pen on my bedside table.
On the third day, I woke to rainy skies that mirrored the aching of my soul. (melodrama, anyone?) It was my day off, so I went off to run errands. When I arrived home I spent a few hours working on the marketing strategies for Only The Stars Know. Then I spent a few more hours creating a book trailer. Then I spent an hour watching TV.
By the time 1am rolled around I was thoroughly disgusted with myself. Really, self? This was the best I could do?
So, I pulled out the big guns. Sometimes the only way to get excited about a scene is to have lived it. Sometimes the only way to get all the details is to have lived it.
After going through my Big Gun Secret Process I started scribbling madly away at my journal. I literally could not write fast enough to get the scene onto paper. By 3:30am I had the gist of it down, and I couldn't stay awake any longer. I laid aside the journal and turned out the light. I fell asleep easily.
On day four I woke up late, a result of being up until 3:30, I'm sure, so I got ready for work and left soon after. Business was slow at work, and I was itching to work on the book, so I requested to go home early and ended up leaving around 8pm. I stopped for dinner and then hightailed it home. I brainstormed for about half an hour (painting my nails is a very good way to brainstorm, I have discovered) and then discovered I had left my journal in the car. I ran through the dripping cold rain to retrieve it and then finally sat down to finish the prologue.
Last night, around about 12:15am, I finished that prologue.
It is...indescribable. Damon asked me if I love it, and I had to reply honestly that I could not love it, because of the horrible pain he suffers through for it. But I am proud of it. I think my writing ability is becoming more and more finely honed with every story I write. And I think that you, the readers, will love and hate the story, which are not two different things, but facets of the same thing: passion. And I want this story to inspire passionate responses.
Of course, the best news is that as long as I type up the prologue today, Damon said I could start reading my new books immediately! Huzzah!
Monday, January 16, 2012
Damon's Ultimatum
Damon's Ultimatum...Translation: I got myself in trouble with my character and now I am going to be punished accordingly.
Last night we were driving home from my parents house, Damon and I, that is, and he said in his normal quiet tone, "Will you be working on the book tonight?"
I knew he meant In The Darkness Remain, for I had stupidly told him I wanted to start the prologue soon. I had, also stupidly, thought aloud to myself that I should write it that night, while I was in between reading books.
I hesitated before answering him. I knew he had heard my still liquid-like plans and I knew he realized how easily I would push them aside. At the same time, I really did want to work on the story. It's just, I had been awake since 8am (a near unbelievable feat for me) and it was already 11pm...and I was tired...Okay so I'm rationalizing. But really, what did he expect? We've known each other for almost 8 years, if he doesn't know me by now then there is really no hope.
So I stopped hesitating finally and said, albeit haltingly, "I had considered it."
His voice somehow went lower as he said, "I think you should."
In fairness, I do know that tone. I know it means trouble, and I know that if I decide to ignore it I will regret it.
As I walked into my apartment and set my things down, I went through my normal routine: let Pangur out of my room, feed Pangur, put away laundry(aka throw it on the ground and hope it puts itself away), make cup of tea, turn on Sam, sit in front of Sam sipping tea, check email, check ads, check sales, check blog....
So 12:30am rolls around and I'm really tired now. I think about picking up my newly arrived Sherrilyn Kenyon book, the 2nd in Nick's trilogy!, and put it back down because I feel guilty... I turned on the TV, watched a rerun episode of an old sitcom...turned off TV...fell asleep at a 1am.
Long story not so short: I'm in trouble. I am now forbidden to touch any of my newly arrived unread books (2 at the moment with a 3rd still in transit) until I have written the prologue. Those of you who know me well understand what a horrible sentence this is. Not touch books? Not read my new books? WHAAAT?
Well, like I said, I always regret it when I ignore that tone from Damon. There is no question of me not adhering to this edict either. No ifs, ands, or buts.
Alas, there shall be no more reading until In The Darkness Remain is properly started. I never thought I would miss Angela as a main character after finishing Die For Me Again, but she is a fluffy bunny compared to Damon's slave master approach.
...hmm...slave master... *evil smile*
Last night we were driving home from my parents house, Damon and I, that is, and he said in his normal quiet tone, "Will you be working on the book tonight?"
I knew he meant In The Darkness Remain, for I had stupidly told him I wanted to start the prologue soon. I had, also stupidly, thought aloud to myself that I should write it that night, while I was in between reading books.
I hesitated before answering him. I knew he had heard my still liquid-like plans and I knew he realized how easily I would push them aside. At the same time, I really did want to work on the story. It's just, I had been awake since 8am (a near unbelievable feat for me) and it was already 11pm...and I was tired...Okay so I'm rationalizing. But really, what did he expect? We've known each other for almost 8 years, if he doesn't know me by now then there is really no hope.
So I stopped hesitating finally and said, albeit haltingly, "I had considered it."
His voice somehow went lower as he said, "I think you should."
In fairness, I do know that tone. I know it means trouble, and I know that if I decide to ignore it I will regret it.
As I walked into my apartment and set my things down, I went through my normal routine: let Pangur out of my room, feed Pangur, put away laundry(aka throw it on the ground and hope it puts itself away), make cup of tea, turn on Sam, sit in front of Sam sipping tea, check email, check ads, check sales, check blog....
So 12:30am rolls around and I'm really tired now. I think about picking up my newly arrived Sherrilyn Kenyon book, the 2nd in Nick's trilogy!, and put it back down because I feel guilty... I turned on the TV, watched a rerun episode of an old sitcom...turned off TV...fell asleep at a 1am.
Long story not so short: I'm in trouble. I am now forbidden to touch any of my newly arrived unread books (2 at the moment with a 3rd still in transit) until I have written the prologue. Those of you who know me well understand what a horrible sentence this is. Not touch books? Not read my new books? WHAAAT?
Well, like I said, I always regret it when I ignore that tone from Damon. There is no question of me not adhering to this edict either. No ifs, ands, or buts.
Alas, there shall be no more reading until In The Darkness Remain is properly started. I never thought I would miss Angela as a main character after finishing Die For Me Again, but she is a fluffy bunny compared to Damon's slave master approach.
...hmm...slave master... *evil smile*
Monday, June 27, 2011
Journal Entry
I've been keeping a journal of things that inspire me and little ideas I get. Well, the other night was so beautiful that my journal entry almost captured the incredible feeling.
Day: …I’ve lost count
Last night I drove up to the dam. I walked out on it, feeling stupid. Why was I tempting the fates? It was somewhere between eleven and midnight, just tempting the fates. There were a few other cars up there, hardly a person to be seen.
Despite my valid fears of rape, abduction and/or death, as soon as I was in the wind I could no longer question my motives. My sanity, perhaps, but not my motives.
What is it about that place that calls to me? Sings to me…so deeply. Just standing there with the wind stinging my eyes, whipping my carefully styled hair into a frenzy. I have never felt so calm, so right with the world.
Only a little way below, the waters of the lake lapped at the dam, begging for release. The dam stood solid and firm though, no mere waters could bring it down. The pride that was evident in its tall, strong structure was echoed in the view from the other side. The valley stretched out. It’s night time magnificence outshone any beauty that could be found within during the day.
I stood still, yet wavering. How could I keep my eyes open when they were assaulted with such wicked perfection? But worse, how could I possibly close them?
The wind was speaking to me and I strained to understand the words. It tossed my hair in frustration when I did not understand immediately. I listened harder and when I felt that I understood, such peace flowed throughout me. I felt that I must collapse, so I leaned against a light pillar.
It was all that I could do to suck in deep breaths of the lake air. The stars were glorious overhead. Their peace was in the extravagant normalcy of their being. Yes, I could see them from my apartment if I chose. But who could appreciate them more from there, than I did from atop the dam?
It was long minutes before I could convince myself to leave. Already I am full of foolish ideas of returning, though hopefully at a slightly less dangerous hour.
~.~.~
It is was this night that I had an inkling for a new book. And in the days since it has blossomed.
Day: …I’ve lost count
Last night I drove up to the dam. I walked out on it, feeling stupid. Why was I tempting the fates? It was somewhere between eleven and midnight, just tempting the fates. There were a few other cars up there, hardly a person to be seen.
Despite my valid fears of rape, abduction and/or death, as soon as I was in the wind I could no longer question my motives. My sanity, perhaps, but not my motives.
What is it about that place that calls to me? Sings to me…so deeply. Just standing there with the wind stinging my eyes, whipping my carefully styled hair into a frenzy. I have never felt so calm, so right with the world.
Only a little way below, the waters of the lake lapped at the dam, begging for release. The dam stood solid and firm though, no mere waters could bring it down. The pride that was evident in its tall, strong structure was echoed in the view from the other side. The valley stretched out. It’s night time magnificence outshone any beauty that could be found within during the day.
I stood still, yet wavering. How could I keep my eyes open when they were assaulted with such wicked perfection? But worse, how could I possibly close them?
The wind was speaking to me and I strained to understand the words. It tossed my hair in frustration when I did not understand immediately. I listened harder and when I felt that I understood, such peace flowed throughout me. I felt that I must collapse, so I leaned against a light pillar.
It was all that I could do to suck in deep breaths of the lake air. The stars were glorious overhead. Their peace was in the extravagant normalcy of their being. Yes, I could see them from my apartment if I chose. But who could appreciate them more from there, than I did from atop the dam?
It was long minutes before I could convince myself to leave. Already I am full of foolish ideas of returning, though hopefully at a slightly less dangerous hour.
~.~.~
It is was this night that I had an inkling for a new book. And in the days since it has blossomed.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Complaint Unto The Cursor
Written yesterday, on my bed, staring at Sam's screen...
WARNING: Completely Random Material!)
Where does the will to write come from? Why does the dreaded Block occur?
As I sit, staring at the blinking cursor I ponder why I cannot write. I feel the draw to my computer screen…I have spent the last few hours pouring over notes and ideas. I have felt the keyboard whispering my name, pulling me closer. Still, as soon as I arrive here nothing comes to my fingertips. My brain knows the stories, knows the plot and the characters better than it knows my own life, but still nothing.
Who invented the cursor? They should be taken out and beaten.
It’s blinking taunts me. What’s the matter writer? Don’t you have anything to say? Yes, dammit! I have heaps to say, they are built up in my mind like piles of gold. Piles of refuse. What is the difference besides in the beholder? If one can look at a pile of gold and think it refuse, then cannot one look at a pile of refuse and see treasure?
Treasure of thought cannot be put down in anything but words. Words. Why dost thou elude me now?
Hours on my hands and all I feel is the pull of housework. Yes, I should be cleaning. I should be vacuuming…but instead I give my hours to a blank computer screen. Why, why can I not fill said screen with anything other than bizarre rambling?
My mind, filled with the desire to write, but not the words. I wander, directionless and tired, through the corridors of my thoughts. There is no one else here right now. No characters stopping me for a word or two, no beasties running rampant in need of proper caging.
Don’t I just know why. It has occurred to me, just this moment, that my characters and beasties must be quite a deal smarter than me.
Who takes the time to read anymore? Why should I write, if no one will read? Can my words be sustained simply on my own enjoyment alone? I know not. From the beginning I have had those willing to read and respond near me. It has been their encouragement that has drawn forth the stories…the thought of their eyes feasting on my words that has brought forth the most delicious chapters and morsels of phrase.
Without viewership my river of inspiration runs murky and sluggish. My desire to delve into the plumby dark depths ebbs and I sit idle..
Staring at the cursor...
WARNING: Completely Random Material!)
Where does the will to write come from? Why does the dreaded Block occur?
As I sit, staring at the blinking cursor I ponder why I cannot write. I feel the draw to my computer screen…I have spent the last few hours pouring over notes and ideas. I have felt the keyboard whispering my name, pulling me closer. Still, as soon as I arrive here nothing comes to my fingertips. My brain knows the stories, knows the plot and the characters better than it knows my own life, but still nothing.
Who invented the cursor? They should be taken out and beaten.
It’s blinking taunts me. What’s the matter writer? Don’t you have anything to say? Yes, dammit! I have heaps to say, they are built up in my mind like piles of gold. Piles of refuse. What is the difference besides in the beholder? If one can look at a pile of gold and think it refuse, then cannot one look at a pile of refuse and see treasure?
Treasure of thought cannot be put down in anything but words. Words. Why dost thou elude me now?
Hours on my hands and all I feel is the pull of housework. Yes, I should be cleaning. I should be vacuuming…but instead I give my hours to a blank computer screen. Why, why can I not fill said screen with anything other than bizarre rambling?
My mind, filled with the desire to write, but not the words. I wander, directionless and tired, through the corridors of my thoughts. There is no one else here right now. No characters stopping me for a word or two, no beasties running rampant in need of proper caging.
Don’t I just know why. It has occurred to me, just this moment, that my characters and beasties must be quite a deal smarter than me.
Who takes the time to read anymore? Why should I write, if no one will read? Can my words be sustained simply on my own enjoyment alone? I know not. From the beginning I have had those willing to read and respond near me. It has been their encouragement that has drawn forth the stories…the thought of their eyes feasting on my words that has brought forth the most delicious chapters and morsels of phrase.
Without viewership my river of inspiration runs murky and sluggish. My desire to delve into the plumby dark depths ebbs and I sit idle..
Staring at the cursor...
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