Names (again)

I got Ingemar when commenting this time. I'm thinking I'm destined for a Nordic-esque world.

Queen Ingemar.

Has a certain ring to it.

Names

Just a quickie this time, I have to head off to work soon.

I was commenting on the Sylvanopolis Writers' Society blog (which you should go visit) and was highly amused at the security thingy they make you type to prove you're a real person, it was 'bramerth'. This has lead to a resolution. One of these days I'm going to write a story and all the character names are going to be from those security thingys. It'll be great.

I moved the microwave and deleted some Elves

That was my day today. I cleaned the house and then did some editing (which I love, against all probability, which is why it irritates me to no end to see an book that has obviously not been edited).

Moving the microwave has really thrown me off. I keep going to the wrong end of the counter, kind of irritating after the fifth time (don't give me that look, it's not like I actually cook). Deleting the elves has been less disorienting. Though now of course I am lamenting my decision. What if all the back and forth agonizing I put myself through ultimately lead to the wrong decision and has seriously damaged the integrity of my work? Obviously more back and forth agonizing is required.

Seriously though, deleting the elves leaves me with a world populated only with humans and one other non-human-yet-sentient race. It seems strange to me. Probably because, in general, you either have Humans or Humans and Elves and Dwarves and Dragons et al. But here I am with just the two. One of my friends says this is just fine and makes perfect sense. Personally I think she's just trying to cut down on the back and forth agonizing.

Removing them has left me with an empty spot in the plot. But this is an empty spot that doesn't even come up for a loooong time. And, to be fair, this is a bit of plot that is left over from the high school days and so much else has changed that this one part is probably not worth preserving as it will most likely change as well.

Don't know what will happen with it. I've always disliked Elves in general and if I'm going to write them I should at least take the opportunity to write them as complete jerks. Which would not have worked in this particular case.

Enough blogging. I have some agonizing to do!

Okay so maybe I was a little dead

The Leafkin premiere has come and gone and it was actually a smashing success. 


We made just over $600 which was much more than we were expecting. The actual volume, however, has some errors. Drea (our fearless leader) had a crash course in Adobe InDesign and wound up formatting it all in a couple of days. Considering, it's not so bad. Still, in its second printing there will need to be some definite revisions.


I'll call it a win though. And seeing my words in print, even if it was just an anthology that we published ourselves, was pretty exciting. I now have a completely unfounded sense of legitimacy. 


And to go with that I have a nifty new title (VP of Sylvanopolis Writers' Society) and all sorts of responsibilities. I, along with Melissa Kuhl, am in charge of both the Scifi/Fantasy workshop and critique groups and, on my own, am working on getting an online critique group up and running. I'm also writing bylaws (we're trying for non-profit corporation status). Combine all that with family, work and an abortive attempt at school, I'm rather surprised my head hasn't imploded. Though to be fair, Drea has more on her plate. 


Karma, I've learned, is alive and well. All those times I blithely ignored requests that I have something written for meetings are coming back to bite me in uncomfortable places. Now a 'leader' I am the one make the request and, in turn, being blithely ignored. Not to mention that I can no longer get away with my own slacker tendencies. Responsibility, I've also learned, is an irritating thing.


But I've written! Productively!


It only happened because I was stuck in a Barnes & Noble Starbucks for a couple hours but I'll take what I can get. The plot has (finally!) made an appearance and (gasp!) characters are being developed. 


I hardly know what to do with myself. 

Not Dead Quite Yet

So I finished my short story for Leafkin (yay!)

Unfortunately it's premier falls on my birthday so I won't be attending (boo!) 

Apparently the room we wanted wasn't available on the original date. Ah well, such is life. I think I'm going karaoke-ing instead ^_^

(

Perhaps that makes me a bad writer, but really, I generally ask for one day a year to be self absorbed and that is my birthday. Even the need to further my career am I even allowed to call it that yet?) as a writer isn't enough to lure from the need to cut loose and act out the silliness inherent in my personality that I usually repress. 

So instead of a cultured night of wine, food, and good literature I'm going to make an idiot of myself singing karaoke. 

Oh yes. I am the Queen of Sound Decision Making. Yay me.

In other news, a friend of mine, who, coincidentally, is also a writer but not a part of Sylvanopolis (she doesn't feel inclined to partake of the support of her bretheren), made me a livejournal page. It has quickly devolved into a list of all the random stuff I think of at work. As she's the only one who ever reads it, I don't feel too bad. But it's strange, because before I started this blog, I wasn't much for blogging at all. But now It's a regular part of my week. 

Am I *gasp!* joing the Technological Age?

Just as well I suppose. 

Now that I'm done with my story for Leafkin, I need to start on my first chapter for Dynesia, our web project. It has been sadly neglected. I have no idea what's going on with it. But my main character is blind so it might be interesting since I usually use a lot of visual clues in my writing. 

Don't ask me why she's blind. I started writing, stuff happened. 

I should also start up again on my novel. I having trouble with a character that I suddenly find myself having to write a lot more of. I knew it was going to happen but I am woefully unprepared. I'm considering writing a few scenes for him that take place before the current story arch to see what sort of personality comes out. Hopefully it will help

nothing in particular

I found a neato website. It shows a word at the top of the screen and then gives you sixty seconds to write about it. 

I think it's neat. Sixty seconds, a random word, a little blurb of writing. Perhaps it is the equivalent of a literary one night stand (one minute stand?) but there's something freeing about it. The blurb doesn't really matter. The word doesn't really matter. Just the act. 

Which, put that way, it does make it sound like a one night stand.

Dude. I may just be a literary whore.

when it rains it pours

ah it's been awhile

For one thing I got horribly sick for like two weeks. Sick to the point where I honestly don't remember much of it. 

Needless to say not much writing got done during that period.

And then when I was finally feeling better my glasses broke. Right across the bridge. And, because I am that broke (I mean come on, I'm a writer, a college student and my job is a crappy minimum wage sales position [have I ever mentioned that I hate sales?]) I totally would have been rocking the scotch tape look but I couldn't find the other half. 

So after a day and a half of not being able to see (my eyesight is really bad) I got new glasses, which, I am told look quite good on me.

But in the aftermath of these things I have been quite productive. 

I have even (gasp!) figured out a few major plot points. Crazy concept, I know.

Now if I could only get from point A to point G and then we'd be in business ^_^;

Writing is a Vampire?

I'm begining to believe that writing drains my soul/energy/social ability. 

I feel terrible. I'm in this awful funk, not quite depressed but definitely bordering on melancholy. I don't want to go anywhere, don't want to do anything, don't want to see anyone (nevermind the fact that I'm throwing a mini-party tonight, don't ask why) all for no particular reason.

The one thing I can pinpoint is that I've started working on my novel again. I actually care about what I'm writing. 

And I think it's sucking out my soul.

Apparently the cost of writing is any sort of normal human interaction. 

Will I stop writing to save my ability to interact with other human beings?

Of course not.

Recluse status here I come!

Writers' Group

So for the first time in, well not a full year, but several months, I have something productive to bring to group. (we thought up a name for the critique group but hell if I can remember it now....) 

Of course we'll probably just be taking care of more business this meeting so i'm back to relying on Mel's critiquing.

The great thing about Mel, is that we've known each other for as long as I've been writing so at this point she is so familiar with my writing habits and characters that she is completely unafraid to tell me when I'm being stupid or if a character is behaving completely ridiculously.

I have to say though I'm itching for a new critiquer. I love Mel and am endlessly appreciative of her input, and I don't want her to stop but I think I'd like another perspective to... 

Well anyway, I'm bringing my camera tonight because apparently we have a grand total of one picture in the gallery on our lovely website. So I am taking matters into my own hands. This is slightly unfair because it means that I have the heads up to make myself look presentable. And I'm not informing anyone else. Perhaps this makes me slightly evil. But hey, I've always wanted to get more in touch with my villains, perhaps this is the first step? 

Yay for progress!

At Last!

I wrote something useful!

Granted it was one scene that was fixing the end of a section of a novel.

And it was three pages out of the twenty-something I've written in the past few days.

But hey, it was useful. And good! And it did what it was supposed to do. That is, fix the end of the section of the novel that I have been working on for far to long. 

Of course this now means that I am fighting the urge to give into yet another round of revisions 0.0

Horror Flicks? Really?

So everyone has their own creative process. Proust, for example, spent all day lazing about in bed when he was writing. Another author (I think it was Faulkner?) would lock himself in a room for hours, days, to perfect a single sentence. 

A lot of writers listen to music, or sit in cafes or take nature walks.  All wonderful, lovely, gateways into the creative spirit.

Me? 

I watch cheesy horror flicks in the middle of the night.

I like music and sidewalk cafes and nature and lord knows I love sleep. And I can write in all of those environments (except maybe sleep) but there's never a breakthrough, an insight into my characters or one of those phrases that you write and all of a sudden you're like 'Hey, that was really good!'

If I got a full nights sleep, woke up at six in the morning, fixed myself a cup of coffee (or tea depending on my mood) and sat down to write, I'd get out a paragraph. A page at most. I know. I've tried it.

But when I'm sleep deprived, at three o'clock in the morning watching some awful creation from the eighties, pure gold. My characters makes sense, my villains (always a constant struggle for me, I'm too picky about them) start to become sympathetic and the plot starts to unfold. (I can't tell you how often I find myself writing with absolutely no idea what's going to happen next.)

It's not so much the timing that's a blow to my ego - I've always been a night owl - but the subject matter. Couldn't I find inspiration watching French Film Noir, or Indie films that don't really make sense but we all pretend they do so people will think we're cool? Why in the world is it cheesy horror flicks?

Seriously, when I'm older, and published (it will happen!) that's just going to be awkward.

Two Pages of Nothing

I wrote two pages today.

It's far better than my norm. 

I would be proud of myself if they were two pages that were at all useful. But they're not. They're two pages of complete and utter ridiculousness.

Why?

Because I can't concentrate on just one story at a time. And it's not just that. I had planned on putting together a few short stories and sending them into magazines. I also have short story I need to be fixing for the Leafkin Anthology that Sylvanopolis is putting together. Not to mention my novel. 

But did I write in any of these?

No. I chose to write for my one story that will never see the light of day. The story that I don't care about. The one that has all the ridiculousness I won't let bleed into my other work (because, really, I could write shoujo manga). Seriously, there are a total of three people madly in love with the heroine at the moment. It's just a tad ridiculous. And this is what I write for. Pure, utter, self indulgence.