Fuck It

The title pretty much sums up my attitude at the moment. Come to think of it, I don't think that's the first time I've used that title for this particular blog. I think I must have forgotten about the syndrome I adopted in high school when the need arose. The Fuck It Syndrome. Came in handy for things that shouldn't be obsessed over. Kind of goes hand in hand with Robin Williams' Fuck-It-All drug. Sweet.

Anyway, so what's the syndrome for this time? Once again, my story is annoying me. Actually, it's not really the story's fault (ok, so it's never the story's fault - it's my story so it's my fault. Fine. Picky, picky). While starting the whole thing was a huge, annoying pain in the ass, this time I've just been fussing over whether or not to include a specific couple of scenes involving two of my characters. Should I bother? Does it do anything for my story? Do I want them in there because they rock out?

I've been agonizing over this little conundrum for quite some time. Longer than I should have, truth be told. I think a part of that agonizing included, "Well how the hell do I change it if I leave it out?" I didn't know. So I was kind of freaked. I was rather used to it the way it was, and even though I enjoyed the scene, I still didn't think it was truly fabulous, so the "Do I want it because I like it?" question was only so-so. Sure I like it, but I wouldn't cry if I had to cut it either.

Things finally came to a head a few days ago when I got to stay up nice and late the way I LOVE to do because they cut back on hours at B&N. I get less hours which = less money, but it's a blessing in disguise because I get more time to write. But what the hell does that matter if I'm not even writing? Ah, here's the "Fuck It" part for you.

The last time I wrote a fanfic was when I went out of my mind and thought, "Why the hell not? It'll be short anyway." By the way, that fanfic has transformed into a great romance story for the future. Hoorah. Anyway, the other night I watched an early episode of Doctor Who and because I'm a complete nerd and think David Tennant is hot (ok, maybe not hot, but I'd be like a kid who was just told the candy store he's in is now his if I ever found David Tennant in my bed, or hell, even in my vicinity...God do I ever need to get laid. Honestly kids, this whole virgin thing is getting OLD), and went to bed dreaming dreams of visiting London and meeting him in a bar...ah I wish.

That morning I woke up and laid in bed for a while, pondering ideas. I don't know about other writers, but I tend to get some great ideas when I just lay there, thinking. Either at night or in the morning. I go through whole scenarios that way. That's exactly where a huge chunk of my current book comes from. An hour of laying in bed. So there I was, pondering a Doctor Who scenario for...God knows what reason. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure where it came from. I'd thought up a character before to hang out with him, but I'd never acted on it (as in wrote it down as a fanfic) though I know exactly where the whole kit n'kaboodle would go. But this idea. It was good. I liked it. It was violent. It had tension (hahaha - sorry, Seton Hill giggle), and I thought, "That would be fun." And then I got up.

I didn't do anything about it for a while until I went through the day thinking about it and realized just how much I wanted to sit my ass down and write it. Of course, those thoughts were tarnished by the thoughts of, "Well, I should be working out this Anna/Rilst problem." Finally, I remembered Mike Arnzen's class, and decided, "You know what? Fuck that. I'm going to write what I want to write." I got up and grabbed my red notebook (*drool* God I love that notebook) and started writing.

Aaaaaah. It was good. God it was so good. Words went onto the paper, endorphins flooded my brain, all was well with the world. Ok, so I don't know about the endorphins part, but it was so nice just to feel my pencil swirling over the paper in pretty little letters to make pretty little words. I don't care that it's a Doctor Who fanfiction and it's a waste of real writing time. In essence it is real writing time. It made me happy and hey, that's all that matters. I've been working on it instead of my story, but I don't much care. I have an entire week off and I have enough done already that I'm not under any crazy pressure constraints.

So yeah. Fuck it. >=)

Currently: Take that bitches!

"Did you just make a yummy sound?"

Read the Review

Thanks stomach flu! *blarg* So above I have my "professional" review of the book. Haha. Professional. Whatever. Anywho, that contains half my thoughts on Frankenstein. Yes, Mary Shelley did a good job. Skillful writing, descriptions you can sink your teeth into, and a vocabulary I wish I had. Ah, to have lived during that time. Then again, had I lived during that time, I wouldn't be writing what I am now (well, who knows?). So what do I have to say here that I didn't say in my review?

Hah!

Aside from my continual disbelief that Frankenstein's creature (ok, you know what? I'm tired of calling him that. From now on, Victor will be Victor, and his creation will be Frankenstein. There.) is able to communicate so flawlessly, I have a bone to pick with Victor.

He is a selfish, selfish man. That's what I kept getting from him. Not in the very beginning, even when he's making Frankenstein, because then he's got this semi-wacked out haze going on in his head: "I can do it, I can make it, it will be fantastic, just think!" and so on. He's so bent on creation, he's basically forgotten everything else. A lot of people can, and have, done that. Though it was a selfish desire that motivated him. Glory, oh glory! Fool. But after that, it became all about Victor, in his mind at least. Oh, sure, he had his moments of "Oh William! Oh Justine! Oh Elizabeth!" and anyone else that had a moment of vulnerability to Frankenstein in Victor's mind, but otherwise it was aaaalll about him. Things like, "Oh how I'd hate to see that wretch [Frankenstein] again! How I am so miserable! Woe is me! I wish I'd never created that abomination!" Yadda yadda yadda. Now, I can understand falling into a guilty depression of Dear God what have I done? This is all my fault! But the man was so consumed with his misery, he didn't ever seem to take into consideration the misery of those around him. Did he ever think on how to solve the problem? No. Did he ever confess his crimes? No (well, once to the judge and then to Walton, but those don't seem much like confessions to me). Even when he thought on death - "Why did I then not die?" - to me it seemed selfish. Sure, your misery is so bad, you think you should just die in order to be free of all the pain. But what about your father, fiancee, brothers, and others around you? And what about Frankenstein? Hmmmm?

I think the height of his selfishness (to me) appeared when Frankenstein said, "I will be with you on your wedding-night" and Victor immediately thinks, "He means to kill me then." Victor may be a genius, but the man has no sense. Take a moment; you'd just refused to create a mate for Frankenstein. Franky's already killed three people close to you. He seeks to make you miserable the way he is; alone. He plans to pop up the night you're married. Just WHO do you think he plans on killing? It doesn't take a rocket scientist. Yes, yes, I know, if Mary Shelley hadn't written the book this way, it may not have gotten to where it needed to go, but I think it's entirely possible for Victor to have known better and still failed. Heck, he can never flippin catch Franky anyway.

There were a few times when Victor managed to get his head on straight and think in the right direction. First when traveling with Clerval and panicking in thinking that Frankenstein might pop up and kill Clerval. Then when pausing to think on what might happen should he finish making a female version of Frankenstein. That was a good, solid train of thought.

Victor is also a fool because he never fully understands just what he has done to Frankenstein. Sure, he listens to Franky's story, but he doesn't truly listen. Franky, in my eyes, really did have promise. Sure, he's a freakish thing in terms of appearance, but consider how often he tried to be good, tried to be useful, and appealed to the better sides of mankind. I'm not defending him when it comes to the murder he does, but I don't doubt that without proper education of morals (despite what he might have heard and read before) and love from the one that made him, he could have turned out much differently.

So, what about the book as science fiction? It's nice to read something from very early on, just for history's sake. Helps one to see how writing and content has evolved since then. Content seems to have continued on the same course. This could have been written now and still rocked the house. It would have to be written differently, of course, as not naming Victor for so long (as mentioned in the review) would bug a lot of people, and having so little dialogue and mostly narration could turn people off. Then again, who knows? The book is still in print, isn't it? Except now it's read as a classic (sometimes a necessity depending upon the classroom teacher that decides to stick it into a lesson plan) as opposed to the stuff on bookstore shelves that others consider mindless sludge. "All that sci-fi nonsense. It's so lame." Actually SF has a better rep now, so maybe not. It always depends on the readers.

Come to think of it, we've redone Mary Shelley's Modern Prometheus story already. Take a look at one of the many AI stories out there. Funny. The things we make always tend to turn around and destroy us, oftentimes because we fail to teach it correctly or reject it and attempt to destroy it, which then leads to the creation attempting to save itself. And what about superiority? Well Frankenstein did inform Victor (who was already quite aware) of his abilities to survive through much more than any human ever could. Small amounts of food, extreme heat, extreme cold, etc. Victor wanted to build a superior creature - he did. In SF humans wants to build better robots - we do. Scary.

When our modern-day, metallic Frankenstein finally wakes up, I don't think it'll be here. I'm willing to bet it will be in Japan. I'm telling you, they need to stop with the smart robots, but will they? Noooo....


Currently: OMG RLY? (slightly spastic for no reason)

Strunk Has Style!

The Elements of Style by William Strunk and E.B. White, as we all know (at least, my residency posse knows), is a tiny book filled with nuggets of gold for writers. That can include everyone, if you're still in school working on college papers and whatnot.

The book is the smallest grammar/style book I've ever encountered, due to (ah, now here I almost wrote "the fact that" - Strunk would be hitting me in the head with a ruler) only a certain number of "rules" listed. Where to put a comma, a semicolon, how to handle yourself with apostophes and so on. I have another grammar book leftover from a creative writing class that lists more usage rules for em dashes, puncutation inside and outside of quotation marks (which I wish Strunk had addressed), and other such items. You get the idea. There's also a nice list of words; how to not screw up allude with elude. Again, you get the idea. If you remember those Mead folders with all the junk on the inside, you should remember the English one with the list of commonly confused words.

But enough about what's inside the book. What about it? It's good (what did you expect?). Strunk wrote this for his students, something I thought was a fantastic idea, and when I started to think about it, I wondered why I'd never heard of the book before. I think everyone in my high school English classes could have used this book. Especially since our teachers (except a one of them) didn't do jack to teach us. It's amazing I love English at all, considering much of the time was spent either watching movies or filling out sheets of busy work. Or doing nothing. I recall doing very little in my senior English class. Right, so I don't get on a rant about poor English teaching, back to the book. Strunk chooses brevity over wordiness, a good idea since wordiness can kill a sentence. I loved some of the ideas he put down on ways to cut out unnecessary words and phrases. I was happy reading, knowing that many of these things I was already doing through choice. You know, that feeling of "That just doesn't sound right" before you reword a sentence? I think a lot of us tend to do that, not because a teacher told us to, but because it isn't hitting our ear right. We want ear candy. Ear candy!

I did feel a bit ignorant when reading words like "gerund" and "participle" and other grammar terms because I couldn't remember what they meant. Ok, shut up, it's been years since I was in a 7th grade English class learning these things. Even then the lack of enthusiasm the teacher had made me drowsy and I couldn't ever stand picking sentences apart and graphing them. I always thought, "This isn't right! A sentence shouldn't be subjected to this!" I was too busy being indignant on the sentence's part to accept what I was supposed to be learning. Now that I sound like a bad student (wasn't, really, I aced the class, but our teacher needed a vacation or to spice up the class somehow). ANYWAY, to get back on point, I had to go look up what some of those meant, only to find out later that (duh) there was a glossary in the back of the book. I laughed to myself and hoped I wasn't the only one who needed it.

I wonder who put it there - Strunk or White? Either way, good move.

I only borrowed the book from work (yeah, again I look like a bad student, I didn't buy it right away, but I have learned that when I do, I'll opt for the paperback instead), but it's on my list o' books to buy. I have no shelfspace (no, seriously, I don't. But I am the God of Organization, so I'm sure I'll be able to think of something), even though I did find a great deal on a pristine copy of Word Painting by Rebecca McClanahan. Yeah, my description has been sucking this time around. I think this surprised one person at residency who had my submission piece. Looking at some of my other works, I don't know what's going on. I have some lovely similes and metaphors.

Strunk and White, eventual revision buddies.

Currently: Whoo!

Weirdly Ironic

I first heard about Nineteen Eighty-Four when I was in college. How we were headed that way. How scary it all was. I was intrigued. Since then I heard other things about it. How well it was written, etc. It's been on my "To Read" list for a long time now.

So I've finally read it.

Easily, I can give all those who praised it for skilled writing their credit because it was crafted very well, despite the few times when the hero would lapse into a memory and at some point I wasn't sure if I was still in the memory of if I'd reverted back to the present. It's still better than what I've produced, and likewise Orwell gets plenty of kudos for making something like this during 1949. Not for the content, as that sort of thing is still around, but more the futureness involved. We still don't have telescreens and the closest we've come to making one could be the little camera you have on your computer where you and your friend share real time video of one another. Considering the way telescreens are used though, that's a good thing.

When it comes to people freaking out over the government and the whole "Big Brother is Watching You" thing, they fuss over telephone conversations and emails. Now while I don't see us headed in that society as of yet, or in the immediate future either, I can't believe people ignore the other restrictions the government wants to put on us. People fuss about privacy. There's no telescreen in your house yet, but what about saying what you can and cannot consume/do to yourself? Cigarettes are barred from public places statewide. Yeah, ok, yammer on to me about cancer and while sure that's a possibility and the government wants to keep us all safe from secondhand smoke, consider also where it stops? Hmm? I read an article once about a consideration on taking Coke and Pepsi machines out of schools just to keep kids from getting fat. Are you serious? Whatever happened to conscious, intelligent thought? Don't want your kid chugging down suger-filled drinks? Don't give him/her money for it. Sure, he/she might get money from a friend, but face it, that friend isn't going to keep supplying them forever.

Here's one thing that always freaks me out. I'm a chocolate junkie. There's a really bad movie out there named Demolition Man where things deemed bad for you are outlawed. Chocolate is one of them. In this book, people get chocolate rations. You know what I say? Fuck that. The day chocolate is restricted in any form or fashion is the day I freaking riot. That's when you know things are getting way out of hand.

But back to the book. In some ways, I found myself disappointed. First because of the content. I expected something like The Giver or Fahrenheit 451. But a lot of it turned out to be exposition that no doubt contained Orwell's concerns at the time. That's all very fine and well, but it takes things down a notch when you have different expectations. It's just that everyone all giddy about it gave me that initial impression. Ah well.

Second is the end. I accept it, but I'm not thrilled by it. I guess that too is Orwell's thoughts on the subject. That "they" win in the end. Well...hopefully not. The whole world was like that? Eech. You get just a couple glimmers of hope throughout the book only to have more rhetoric take over and then whump. The end. Hero loses. Game over. Unless you read the appendix like some critics do; as the subject content is written in the past, it implies that Winston, the hero, was indeed right, and the Party fell. One may never know...

That's my take on it as fiction. It's still quite good, the fact that it freaks people out, not just as in "Ohmigod, that could happen to us!" but instead as politically dangerous and thus getting it banned from libraries and such. Well, well. More power to it then. The more a group rejects a book, the more I tend to rally behind it. Especially if it's a ridiculous claim *coughHarryPottercough* and people start chucking books into fires. Nazis.

You know what this book did remind me of though? V for Vendetta, totally. At least in that movie we get to see what might have been the results of the rallying lower class.

Ah well, hat's off to Orwell. I'm tired.


Currently: Blah.

P.S. I forget what's "weirdly ironic" as my title says. I'll be sure to come back and mention it if I manage to remember...

Read my Epinions review on Nineteen Eighty-Four.

No more balking!

Swain's book is good stuff. He breaks down a lot of the pieces that make up a novel, and alerted me to things I'd never thought of before. I'd like to list them, but there are too many (ok, here are some; character drives, beginning help, ending ideas, an unhappy Unconscious and so forth).

I should have brought sticky tabs with me to work so I could have marked all those spots. No matter, I don't have to return this book until December so I can have until then to skim some of these ideas again and get them more firmly lodged into my brain. I liked how he not only included writing methods and items to look at, but also preparation for writing, locations to write, and so on. I've read some writing books before, and none of them really put it as well as Swain does. He mentions that if you have a window, you're likely to stare out at the world beyond it and forget about writing.

....Ok, this is in no way a joke, but I have a window practically in front of me, and I was just staring out of it. Yikes. Then again, I am running on very little sleep so...

Another thing he mentioned that I thought was absolutely fantastic and I've never read in any other writing book: Get out and exercise! Do you know how good of an idea this is? I mean, just a nice walk around the block can help clear your brain. I go with my mom to the grocery store - I just did yesterday, in fact, in order to keep my brain from completely melting. Of course, I end up with a container of Chips Ahoy Cookies beside my desk, but you get the idea. Anyway, I thought it was great he mentioned that and I think a lot of writers would benefit from it. Otherwise, what? We'll all get slobby in front of our computer screens (or in my case, a notebook). Haha. Ok, maybe not necessarily, but do you know how many ideas and scenarios I've gone over in my brain while running on the treadmill to some good music? I once read that most writers get their ideas in the shower. ...Shower? I have never once had an idea in a shower. I've even considered this information and made a point to think about my stories in the shower, but I inevitably start thinking of something else totally unrelated. And hey, if you do get ideas in the shower, then you can hop in after you get a bit of exercise and have a double think session.

Of course, unless you live in a world during 1984, then doublethink is a bad thing...but that will have to wait until another blog entry!



Currently: Inspired

By the Way

I forgot to mention two things.

First, when it comes to the end of the world through our own destruction (and by that I mean human error - and that error could be anything, from overpopulation to developing AI that becomes self aware and freaks out on us), I think SF readers and writers will make it out alive the most. Why? Because those who can imagine the all-too-logical AI: "Humans destroy the planet, thus they must be destroyed themselves" or be able to realize the fact that we might totally ruin our planet (Al Gore does not count, I don't care what you say, that guy is an idiot. Did you hear his speech? The beginning of it made no sense for God's sake) are probably the ones that will see it coming the quickest. We'll look at the rest of the world and say "Fuck this" and move to places like Colorado or Wyoming and live where it's quiet and end up going back to hunting and stuff to survive. So yeah, when you watch movies of post-apocolypse type stuff, those survivors are genre readers and the people that got lucky.

Ok, not necessarily, but come on. When's the last time you read a SF book or even watched a movie and thought, "Oh crap. We're headed that way aren't we?" Some of the stuff that went down in The Fall of Hyperion didn't surprise me at all. Think of yourself as plugged into the Internet 24/7. I mean like, literally. A little wireless Intel Processor in your brain. And after centuries of this, people suddenly get cut off from it? Hell yeah there would be people that would go insane. Then there's 1984 but I'm not going to get into that quite yet. Waiting until I read enough of it to truly go on a tirade of some sort.

The second thing also has to do with (naturally) The Fall of Hyperion. Maybe it's a moot point, or not even really a point, but it made me smile...chuckle a little. Not in a happy way, but more of the ironic sort. As in, "Why does that not surprise me?" Here's the passage that did it, and by the way, for those of you who've never read the book (probably everyone reading this), this takes place at least 700 years into the future (probably more), so we're at the year 2694 or so, and the only means of world connection (ship travel excluded) has just been destroyed, thus cutting all worlds off from one another:

"On Qom-Riyadh a self-appointed fundamentalist Shiite ayatollah rode out of the desert, called a hundred thousand followers to him, and wiped out the Suni Home Rule goverment within hours. The new revolutionary goverment returned power to the mullahs and set back the clock two thousand years. The people rioted with joy."

I'll leave you to think about that yourself.



Currently: Feelin' Magical

So is the Shrike dead or what?

Back in June I read a book entitled Hyperion by Dan Simmons. It was required reading by the program just as the romance book Bet Me is required this time around. Hyperion is pretty hard science fiction reading, something that actually surprised me because I enjoyed it so much. Up until that point I'd been pretty convinced that I wasn't a fan of hard SF. Now I think it's just like any other genre; some books have it, some don't. I guess I never should have thought anything in the first place because I'd never really read any hard SF, so technically, I had nothing to go by.

Anywho, that book ended on a "to be continued" note, so naturally I decided I had to read the next book. How could I not? I mean, come on, you're talking to the girl who reviewed over 50 volumes of Inuyasha and a ton of Fushigi Yuugi like a loser. Basically I finish what I start, and besides, since I enjoyed Hyperion so much, I figured I'd probably enjoy the next installement.

Good times.

Granted, sometimes Simmons will ramble on with tidbits of information we really don't need, which I'm sure could pare the book down by...probably a decent number of pages, but oh well. To me, it never really gets excessive. Mostly because somehow he manages to make it seem relevant and it doesn't get too boring or repetitive. Compare that to Jane Eyre and the entire page dedicated to how blue the sky is. Ok, I get it, move on please. Yikes. The techno-babble never bothered me because it settled in so nicely to the rest of the text. There were a few places where I thought, "What?" but not many and they didn't seem to major so that if I didn't fully understand it wasn't any big deal.

For a brief moment in time, when I read that the AI's "God" was at war with a human developed "God" I almost laughed in an "Aaaah, you've got to be kidding me" way. Something like that meant that after hundreds of pages, everything boiled down to a hyper-detailed and elaborate version of humankind vs. artificial intelligence (that we created...yet again. Why are we always doing this? You'd think humankind would know by now). But there's way too much going on for it really to be trimmed down to just that. Even if it sort of still is. If any of that makes sense. Mostly because it's not so much "robot vs. human" like in Terminator or The Matrix, but that on a higher plane of existence. Strange, but that's the best I can describe it.

It was a wild ride, though I have to say, I was getting a little....maybe not annoyed, so much as "Get on with it!" Monty Python style with the whole John Keats thing. Is Dan Simmons obsessed with John Keats? Did he write some graduate dissertation on the man or something? Having poetry laced throughout this kind of SF book was a little weird, occasionally annoying, and sometimes fitting. For example, the giant AI personality speaks in verse at several points which was both annoying and yet in some ways fitting. I know a lot of people would roll their eyes and think, "Lame. Why is an advanced AI rambling in poetic verse?" Yeah, I tend to agree. However, the simple fact that I've never heard of or encountered any other AI doing so gives this an interesting twist. Then again, as I've said before, I've not read much in terms of hard SF, or anything that's ever had AI in it either.

There are still plenty of questions to be asked. What happened to all those poor bastards on the Shrike's thorn three? How many Shrikes are there? What was up with Brawne's air-walking and Shrike killing? And the whole time traveling thing makes me feel like I was just in the middle of some really bizarre episode of Doctor Who. But concerning all the weird stuff that went down in this book, I tend to agree, or at least apply the Doctor's concept of time as being just a big ball of wobbly...stuff. Certainly seems that way here.

Of course, I'll have to read the next book. Yes, that's right. The craziness keeps on going. There's Endymion and The Rise of Endymion to go through. With this thing going through crazy AI, humans, semi-humans, non-humans, portals, time travel, Gods, and other totally off the chart I-don't-even-know-what, how can I not read the next couple of books? Besides, I want to know who wins the war, that the real deal is with the Shrike, and what this supposed message is that is so universe-shattering. ...I'll bet I'm the only one out of the whole residency group that plans to read all four books.

Hey, I told you I finish what I start.

And by the way, the cover art for this book sucks. That Shrike is not scary and dammit, the thing has four arms, not two! Does no one tell the artists of this? Becuase I don't think it had four arms on the first cover either, but that one looked a little freakier at least...




Currently: BLEH!

Techniques and a bit of Hyperion

I realize I never really did finish talking about my previously read book about SF history and whatnot. Guess I'll finish that before going on my next ramble.

In a nutshell, I was disappointed. I was hoping for a good, strong SF history chunk and instead got...well, truly, I'm not sure what I got. Not a real, clear history lesson, that's for sure. Expectations made the text hiccup; I was hoping for [this] and instead found myself reading about [that]. The fact that he drifted a lot didn't help. One minute we're talking about 1984 and the next it's something about Star Trek.

Fine, whatever, I perservered. I finished. Book's back at the library. Clean cup, move down.

I'm nearing the end of Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight Swain now. Actually I'm reading two books at a time - I've been slowly chewing on Techniques and just recently plucked out three other books from the library (because they were finally available - though I might as well just buy them, truth be told). Some people might worry that since October 25th is nearby, I'm taking a risk by procrastinating. Psh. Obviously no one knows the way I function. The Fall of Hyperion will take me 5 days max. Judging by my current speed, that's about right. 1984 will take much less - 2 days, 3 max. But back to Techniques.

I have to admit, sometimes I zone out and will read through a page without really reading it. Annoying because then I have to reread it. Sometimes I don't because I've caught enough to fully grasp what Swain is talking about and realize, "I already know that." But of course there are oodles of ideas and things he's mentioned that I've either had trouble with or never thought of in that light.

For example, I've always had issues with time. In my previous books it wasn't a worry because things naturally progressed quickly. Days were just fine and dandy as something interesting would happen each day (sometimes night) and I never had to worry about "3 months later" and so forth. It wasn't until book #1 that I had to plan out days. Anyway, before I get too off track with other books that need polishing, Swain pointed out a great way to bridge that span of time. Slip it into the middle of a character's musings or current emotional feeling. That's the abridged version of his explanation, of course, but with his examples and whatnot I thought, "That's perfect!" And it seemed so easy too. Why hadn't I done that before? Doy, I was too preoccupied with the time factor I totally missed out on how I could gloss over it with just the right flicks of the pen. Not to say that the time isn't important, but it's a hell of a lot easier to slip it in so your reader knows 6 months have passed as opposed to trying to drag it out saying what went on these 3 months and then these next 3 months, blah blah, when it's not even important and all your reader sees is, well, "blah blah." I hate that extra crap.

I love Swain's style too. It's quick, to the point, and clear. I've always had trouble with the difference between "show and tell" and frankly I'd love to strangle both of those words, something I frequently have to do to my internal editor because she's back there poking a finger at my text saying, "Show, don't tell" and my description comes out like crap. Oh how I could go on about my description. But reading The Fall of Hyperion helps with that too because while Simmons can go overboard sometimes, he does have some good ways of presenting it. Better than myself, that's for sure. Swain also notes showing and telling and gives a few tips and explanations. His style is sort of like an outline (no, literally, it's like an outline with writing in between, it's rather great, actually), which keeps things orderly and helps restrain potential rambling, which after Hartwell, is really nice.

Something he mentioned near the beginning of the book was "Grammar as a fetish." I thought that was brilliant and giggled. Too many people can get stuck on perfect grammar. Personally, I love a good fragment. I don't think I've used any in my current book, but I know I have a lot in book #2, all intentional of course.

His section on beginnings is rather helpful because of my current fist-shaking at my own beginning. What to ditch. What should be important. Cutting and flashbacking. Other concepts to make sure the reader doesn't say your book is garbage and puts it where the rest of the garbage is. I think what he had to say will help give me a better beginning. More interesting. Less backstory since much of it is indeed inconsequential to the reader. One thing he mentioned is along the lines of "What may be important to you concerning backstory isn't always going to be important to the reader." Even if I need it to make my world work, they probably don't. Keeping that in mind makes cutting down a lot easier. Adding to that is The Fall of Hyperion's description and the fact that it gave me a few extra ideas that could be fun to include in the beginning (again, working with description and not just offering readers some lame, punch-out postcard crap). I feel much better about this.

Haha, my mentor Anne Harris warned me that Swain is a little sexist. Or maybe not so much that he is (was?) but that the book kind of is since it was written in '65. There are several places where, yeah, I can see it. Hahaha. I don't mind, of course, as long as I'm getting good advice. But it is kind of funny. Women tend to be leaving or cheating on their husbands, and the hero is always a guy. Sometimes I'll hit on something that's obviously guy-sided, but I just smile and shake my head. And I'm not all that feminist either, haha. Still, it's good stuff and I've already suggested it to a few people because he's got some handy points.

Cool beans.

Currently: Feelin' magical.

Outlet

Ok, I need an outlet and since this was originally a writing blog (temporarily a reading journal for grad school), I'm going to use it.

I'm pissed. That, in short, describes what is going on with my story. It's pissing me off. I've never had to work this much to get past something, I've never had to muscle through so many chapters before when compared to the past 4 books I've written. Maybe it's because this time it's serious, this time there are deadlines, this time once I'm done with grad school there isn't any more school and I've got to either sell a fucking book or I don't know what. That's a slight understatement, but you get the idea.

I have a headache, even now. I've read my mentor's comments, and the shitty thing is that I already know I have an issue and I'm having problems getting over it. Here's the thing. I want to start from Point A: Humans discovering portal and get all the way to Point B: We help to win a huge planetary war. The problem isn't so much the idea, it's just that there's so much boring bullshit that occurs following Point A that it's hard to get to the good stuff that leads up closer to Point B. Humans learning this and that, smalltalk to get between little conflicts that are so minor they don't even have much reason being there. Again; pissing me off. I've waded through the boring stuff before, but it's been okay, necessary boring stuff that doesn't last too terribly long. The thing here is that I know readers would easily get bored and toss my book away in favor for something better where they can get to the meat much sooner. Hell, as a reader, I would toss my book away in order to get to something better. That can't be said for my other ones. Good stuff happens in them. Conflict arises quickly. Characters have issues to work through during said conflict, blah blah and all that good stuff. Here they're just wandering around like a bunch of idiots. NOT what I want my characters to be doing.

So I finished a brief "Adjustment" list which basically is a short version of how I'm going to revamp my story. I'm going to be cutting the shit out of it, that's for sure. Fuck the prelims, fuck all that boring crap and rambling useless nonsense. I'm going to put the trust into my readers and characters; that the readers will understand and my characters will do their thing without a lot of explaining. I'm getting too bogged down with info dumps or stuff that is info dump-like. Time to smack them around, toughen them up. I'm tired of muscling through this thing and being pissed off that nothing is going the way I want it to.

Time to make it go my way and have a bit of fun.


Currently: Fuck you story!

Haha, Los Angeles sucks

While Hartwell managed to stay on task for the most part in the next few chapters, in chapter 6, "Where Do You Get Those Crazy Ideas?" he started to wander again. With that chapter title, his wanderings didn't make much sense. Going into it, you're going to think, "He'll talk about places authors get ideas" and instead he begins to go on about what ideas can do and the purpose of ideas etc. etc. and sort of leaves the wondering reader in the dust about idea origination. I think he could have easily gotten away with it had he just named the chapter something different.

I did like the phrase "Science fiction writers are like magpies." Collecting all sorts of random bits and pieces of information and what might seem like junky trivia to others. I do that all the time. I have all sorts of random "stupid" things in my brain that are just waiting to be used. I think this can be attributed not just to SF writers, but to a lot of writers. Tell me the fantasy writer doesn't soak up crazy information or the horror writer isn't collecting bits of something that might make for one freaky-ass story later on.

The chapter on the use of the term "science fiction" was good. I'd never really thought about it before, but it is kind of oxymoronic. Sort of like creative nonfiction. Haha. The problem is that people automatically think infallible facts with science, and that's not always true. Scientists get their theories disproven all the time, so science is more like the search for truth rather than truth itself. Therefore, I see nothing wrong with science sitting next to fiction. Especially since science fiction writers have come up with ideas that have later become reality, hence the reason the government started asking for the help and creative minds of some science fiction writers. There was a whole article about that, which I thought was awesome.

And yeah, once it becomes reality, it's no fun anymore. Of course, I tend to think that in that moment when fiction is no longer fiction and that invisible vest is actually functioning on a human being, both SF and science are totally kickass. After a while the elation will fade off, but I'll still think of how cool it was when it became real. Execept now we can't write about it like we used to, but oh well. I like to think that will keep the genre fresh and force new ideas to arise. And anyway, you never know what will come next. I remember when they thought they would never invent the gigabyte. Hmm.

My computer has 78 GB. (I could have had around 200 but I didn't have the money at the time).


Currently: Just kinda normal

Wait, what was that again?

So I'm on my next book, Age of Wonders by David Hartwell as my sort of history book for science fiction. I thought it would be cool getting into science fiction's history because even though my current novel is science fiction, I've read little in the genre (seems counter productive, I know) and figured knowing some of it's roots would help. I'm a little more well versed in fantasy, which would make sense considering that's what I do most of the time anyway. This is my second large science fiction idea, and I thought it was interesting how almost all my short stories were science fiction instead of fantasy....

Anywho, Age of Wonders. I'm trying to get it out of my way so I can devote my full time to Harry Potter, which may be a mistake because I'll probably start hearing all sorts of things about Harry if I'm not careful. I haven't read a lick of it yet and I know once I do I probably won't be able to stop. Like me and a bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy cookies. I'm still not very far yet, and I blame the book, actually. Ok, I should blame myself, but up until recently, Hartwell's writing is sort of like mine actually, although I tend to think my ramblings digress a little before getting back on track and it's a little hard to get lost.

Ok, see, Hartwell's book isn't exactly a history book. This is good because it means I'm not going to be drooling on myself while I go through dates and facts presented in an uber-boring manner. Instead he's upbeat, obviously interested in what he's talking about (as he's a SF writer as well), and knows his stuff (and if he didn't he looked it up). Therein lies a bit of the problem.

Sometimes I think he got so into what he was talking about he just sort of...kept...talking about it getting to a point where I was sitting here thinking, "What the hell does this have to do with the chapter?" While I give it to him that perhaps he found his rhythm in the third chapter because it actually follows a line of thought and stays on topic, the first two just started to bug me. The first chapter was called "The Golden Age of Science Fiction is 12" and while I was able to grasp what he was going for (and I guess that's what's important), once he was done talking about omnivorous SF reading behavior, he started babbling about specific authors and what they've done. This may be a problem because he's set in his time (80s) and it sounds as though he isn't planning for future readers. More like this book was for the current audience of the time. I wasn't born until '83 so I wasn't likely to read this book anytime soon.

He does it again in the second chapter, "I Have a Cosmic Mind - Now What Do I Do?" Come to think of it, I don't think he ever really answers this question. Maybe suggests books to read, but if you were an outsider of the SF genre and read that chapter, I honestly don't think you would be any closer to knowing how to handle your newfound reading world.

What I do credit Hartwell with is the way he describes SF people, reminding any non-SF person that, duh, SF people are just like you except for their enjoyment of SF. The guy at the water cooler, that woman in the grocery store picking out apples, your boss, who knows? Kind of helps kill the stereotype that all SF people speak Klingon or sit at their computers and get fat and think that the government has covered up an alien crash. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. Truth is, that isn't (always) true. Most are the everyday people you see, just with an internal sense of, as Hartwell puts it, wonder.

I have a little problem with his attitude toward Star Trek though. Now, I'm not a trekkie and I've probably only seen a handful of episodes and yes I do realize what the show has done to the SF scene (both in good terms and not so good terms [all SF people are like trekkies]), but I don't take too kindly to Hartwell's condescending tone toward the show. I guess I can see his points and all that, and he's not horrible toward it or anything, but just the way he talks about it rubs me the wrong way. Like I want to tell him to lighten up on the show, give it a break. *shrug* Maybe it's just me.

I just hope he stays on track in future chapters.


Currently: I was happy but now I'm kinda bummed

Kids? Really?

One of the books I put on my list to read during my writing term (as we are required to read a certain amount) was The Time Machine by H.G. Wells. You know, the one about the guy that goes back in time? Meets the Eloi and Morlocks? Come on, it was made into a movie - twice.

Before I get into more details, I have to say I'm surprised at where I found this book during my search for it. Jobless and strapped for cash as I am, I opted for the library. I looked in two different places; the public library and the Penn State University library. While in Penn State's library it was just sort of hanging out, I was quite shocked to find that Schlow Library had it residing in the children's section. The Time Machine - a children's book? I recalled reading War of the Worlds when I was in 8th grade, but that doesn't count as a child's book, does it? (Difficult for me to really know, since this is the same girl who planned to read Gone With the Wind over Christmas break in 7th grade and didn't because it got checked out) I was even further confused about the choice when I actually started reading the book. I wonder what age group it's stuck in at the library because when I think of children's book, I think at most 6th grade and under. The concepts the Time Traveller talks about in the beginning are things I probably wouldn't have grasped too well until after taking geometry or algebra, subjects I didn't take until middle school and up. Time. Space. Fourth dimensions.

I also don't see the style as something a child would tolerate. We're being told a story by the Time Traveller (he's telling his buddies and we're sort of listening in). There isn't any back and forth dialogue, paragraphs can be long, and there just doesn't seem to be the sort of thing children can get into. Maybe I'm underestimating kids - after all, they are driving through 700-page Harry Potter books. However, those read much differently.

Anyway, having said all that, on to the book. Much better than the movies (though I only remember fragments of the first one), which both failed in terms of Morlock looks, Eloi looks, landscape, and just far ahead he traveled. Though I don't often read SF, (ironically enough - it's just that I don't know what's good to read and I'm not into the hard SF) I do find myself strangely drawn to the time in which Earth dies. I know, weird, but it's a fascinating thing to think about - mostly because I seriously doubt it will ever happen in my lifetime. So what would it look like? How would Earth change in the future? In the book the atmosphere grows thin, green plantlife dies away, and we're left with a barren, rocky landscape with a dying ocean and giant crabs roaming while the sun slowly fades or dies or whatever happens to it when it starts to grow red and...unless it was because of Earth losing orbit, falling into the sun.

When you can see something like that in your mind in such a bizarre way, do you know how scary that is? That's why people don't leave their lives for very long and think about our insignificance. You think ants are small, but we're just the same in many ways. Sure our brains are bigger, but what then? People kill each other over religion, but to what purpose? Will it all matter in the end of all things? When our planet slides closer to the sun and our kind die away - and we've lived only such a short time as it is, both as humans and as a country. Rome didn't last. Persia didn't last. How long before we go too? Maybe that's why we strive to live so much. How many shots do we get? I think that's why I go a little mad sometimes. Stuck in a house, thinking about how I have to get a job. Life is to short to spend it in a cubicle or selling bullshit clothes, credit cards, or other crap to people. Stepping outside one's comfort zone to think of the utterly massive amount of space and strange stars and things far and beyond is frightening. That's why I'd love to see it - do you know how thrilling that would be? Forget sky diving, the rush would be so much more intense, holy cow...

But, as usual, I digress. H.G. Wells had a great imagination, you have to hand it to him. I'm extremely fond of his description, a skill I think I need improvement on, and maybe even if I don't, there's no reason not to try making it even better. I simply loved the fact that he had the sun rise and set in the west at one point. I have a world where I really, really want to do that, but I didn't know if it was possible and had considered asking someone well versed in planetary movements. I feel a little better about the idea now, though I would still consult someone, mostly because if the orbit of the planet is going a certain way, I don't know if there would still be grass and living people on that particular chunk of land with the sun moving in that way.

Oh, and I chuckled a little at the beginning as they discussed space and time. About the present, past, and future. It made me start thinking about the original Buddhist doctrine (yay Buddhism class in college!) and how there is no Present. Just the Past and Future. As we are perpetually moving forward in time, there never is any present, and though the concept was difficult to fully grasp at the time, thinking about it in terms slightly different, it actually works for me now. Crazy huh?

“What happened to then?”
“We passed then.”
“When?”
“Just now. We're at now, now.”
“Go back to then!”
“When?”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Now!”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“We missed it.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
“When will then be now?”
“Soon.”
“How soon?”



Currently: Wishing I was in the Infinite

Books, My Baby, and some OMG-ness

Today's topic of discussion is books...and maybe a little Carson Beckett.

If any of you remember or ever read R.L. Stine's Fear Street books, then how about this. I have reviewed over 57 of those books on Epinions.com, which I believed helped catapult me into my Top Reviewer and Advisor status in the book category. On another good note, I have just sold all 57 of my (and my sister's) old Fear Street books on the infamous eBay. Yes, I am not a fan of eBay and won't ever buy there again, but that doesn't mean I won't sell. For the record, the Sex and the City DVDs never came. However, not too terribly long after filing my suit on PayPal, I got all $152.94 back, so yippee skippy for me. Back to the books, they sold for a pretty sweet $46. I had hopes that maybe I'd get $57; at least $1 per book, but considering I started these babies for what they might have been sold at a garage sale ($0.25 - or maybe less considering people around here haggle over items that are $0.50; how goddamn cheap are you??), I've made a pretty nice profit from them, so eBay has redeemed itself as a decent place/concept. Now if only I could sell the I Spy books...

Stephanie Plum, ah the famous Stephanie Plum. For a long time now I've been pondering over possible actors and actresses for roles in a theatrical version, and I'm pretty happy with some of my choices. I decided (very randomly) to put up some of them, as I haven't been ridiculously thorough with all the characters, but I figured it could be fun nonetheless. Not necessarily a rival to my sister's list (as some I agree with and others I don't), but just something to do with my time. These are all considered tentative in the case that some fresh new talent comes along or I simply find someone better or the person is the closest I can get for now (for example, Debra Messing, while not bad, I'm not too sure about her with non-red hair).

Stephanie Plum - Debra Messing or at least someone very similar

Joe Morelli - Thomas Jane

Ranger - still no idea. The man/character is a mystery. Gonna have to be someone new.

Lula - Monique (didn't know what her name was until seeing my sister's list - then realized we were thinking about the same person. Kickass)

Benito Ramirez - Michael Clark Duncan

Constantine Stiva - Crap. I have the guy's face in my mind but can't figure out his name. Don't worry, I'll get it sooner or later...

Randy Briggs - Either Martin Klebba or Peter Dinklage

Eddia Abruzzi - Jason Statham

Albert Kloughn - Not Jason Alexander, but someone very similar to him...

Ranger's Merry Men - Half the guys on the S.W.A.T. team from Bad Boys II

Ok, so it's a small list, but it's all I can remember at the moment as these were the people that first popped into my mind and have stuck around since. I really do think Ranger is going to have to be someone we've never seen before because I cannot even begin to imagine The Rock in this role, or anyone else for that matter. Plenty of good people out there, I'm sure, so they should have a chance.

Lastly on the topic of books, I've read Silence of the Lambs and now have Hannibal in my possession, which lead me to thinking maybe 3 or 4 hours ago...I think it was at dinner - what do people taste like? Oh shut up, it's a legitimate question. I've even discussed this with one or two people at some point. Doesn't mean I'm gonna go all psycho. You know you've had it pop in your mind once and a while and if not, well now it's in there, isn't it? Haha. But seriously, I've heard that animals like lions and sharks don't constantly eat us because we don't taste good. Now that could be utter bull for all I know, but what if that's true? Do we suck as a meat delicacy? And it's not like they're getting crappy tastes either; surfers are usually in good shape. You pretty much have to be. So it just makes me wonder...what do humans taste like?

Anyway, I hope Hannibal is more fun than the movie. I liked the movie, but I got impatient with the Clarice/Hannibal cat and mouse game. I guess after this I'll have to read Hannibal Rising and then maybe Red Dragon for good measure, just to make sure I finish all of them. I don't like loose ends if I can help it.

Now that I know I'm not going to get phone calls or emails from any of you ever again due to weirded-out-ness, it's time to talk about Carson. My beloved baby Carson. Dr. Carson Beckett, to be exact. Ficticious character and one I'm sure about, ah, well none of you are aware of. Only if you watch Stargate Atlantis, which I don't think any of you do. No matter. I have to fuss anyway. They're taking him off the show. Yes, after forming his character, making it into a main one the second season, this season they're going to kill him off. My cute, Scottish doctor is going to get blown up, tossed into a casket, and taken back to Earth. I am not happy. Very not happy. He was one of the more 3D characters on that show, a main reason why I watched it. Now it's going to go downhill. Very disheartening. Especially since I watch so little TV as it is. A few sitcoms and some Stargates. Except now SG-1 is going off the air and they're killing my favorite character in Atlantis. What a bummer.

All right. Fine. Whatever. I'll still watch the show, but I've made a vow that if they kill off Ronon (who, along with being a super-fun character, is pretty damn hot) I'll quit watching the show. At least they'll all know that, producers and such. Yeah, I wrote letters. I hooked up with the SaveCarsonBeckett.com movement. I couldn't help myself. But I had to vent somewhere that mattered, even if nothing is going to change. Some of it is kind of like all the resent I've built up over the years for other shows I've liked that have disappaered (and subsequently been replaced by shit programs). It goes a long way back. Like to when I was a kid and David the Gnome was the last cool show on Nickelodeon, and then *poof!* that was gone too. I don't think I've ever religously watched a show since then. Enjoyed, yes, but made a point to remember and sit down every day/night to watch something? Mmm...not that I remember. Until now. But that's because there is absolutely nothing ever on TV and I forget half the time anyway so I have to make a note to remember and watch.

So what's this got to do with writing? Carson Beckett is the inspiration for my Dominic Ballard, and reading books is good for you because it gives you insight into other styles. In the case of R.L. Stine, it reminds you what NOT to do, and with Thomas Harris, what you don't really like. I'm hoping Hannibal will be different. Stephanie Plum, well she's just for fun. And I am pretty unwavering in my choice for Joe Morelli.




Currently: "OMG is Nicole crazy??"

Writer’s Market 2007 and Epinions.com

When opening our Christmas presents early I was surprised to receive the Writer’s Market 2007. A handy book to have – it’s like a bible for writers, containing all sorts of publishing places and goodies. Agents, book publishers, magazine publications, contests, etc. I promised myself that one day I would comb through it and find places to send work that didn’t suck.

I did send off one piece to a contest with no entry fee (as 99% of them have entry fees, ranging from $5 to $50), and then later on I stumbled upon another and submitted something there as well, but as I nosed about in the book, I read an article about online freelance jobs and how there were a bunch out there to start in small and work your way up. This got my brain going and I did some poking around online and managed to find two good sites that had people listing freelance jobs they wanted done. My first thought? “Hmm, score.”

Now I’d already done one brassy attempt with the Rantoul Press, querying the editor about adding in a movie review column (done by me of course). I wasted a stamp on them because by the time I got home after dumping off the letter, there was a reply in my email saying “No, we’re not looking to add this kind of material.” The Rantoul Press is small and has no vision. Fine. I’ll put my services elsewhere.

On January 7th I responded to 4 online freelance job listings. On the 8th I responded to 5 more. On the 9th I did another 3. I made a new email through Gmail (pretty sweet setup I might add – kinda kicks hotmail butt). I figured by then I should stop and wait for some replies. Two of them were filled up. Another gave me some test articles to produce. Two others gave me a go, but I have some questions before solidifying anything. But the one that gave me the test articles, ah…

Unreel Media – freelancers write articles for them for website clients that need content. I had to write 5 articles with certain specifics involved, the most difficult one being using specific keywords numerous times without sounding dumb or redundant. The pay was $5 per article. I took it very seriously, did the necessary research, and with some skilled phrasing, got them to sound pretty sweet. I sent them back in and got a reply from the project manager saying she’d give them a close look when she had the time as a big deadline was looming.

On the 11th I got another email from her stating; “You are so totally hired.” Kickass. So now I work as a freelancer for Unreel Media writing articles and in the very near future will either be doing some for $6.50 an article or a ton for several months at $5 an article (as their payment depends on their length). *squeal* Nicole’s first freelance job! Yippee! I don’t know why it took me so long to find and I honestly don’t even remember just how I found those sites in the first place. *does that whole is-God-looking-at-me? looking up thing* And I’m pretty excited about one of the other two places. Just think – I get the job at Hayden’s (t’would be sweet) and I do freelance? That means paycheck + extra income. Heck, I already got my $25 from the test project. Granted it has to be done through PayPal and we already know I basically hate PayPal’s guts right now, but oh well. No counting my chickens, but still. There are those who make their living off freelance. It may not be glamorous, but it’s better than nothing.

Aside from that, you may still be wondering just where the heck that $100 eBay gift certificate came from in the first place. Well, you may remember I won $1000 from Epinions in December because of that contest they did.

Every month Epinions has a first Very Helpful review contest. Write the first Very Helpful review on a product. Piece of cake. The interesting thing is, I seem to be on a bit of a winning streak. Probably due to my case of writing insanely to make myself feel productive. After all, I did write 100 reviews in 80-some days, whereas normally it would have taken me around a year to write 100 reviews. But because of my prolificness, this has happened:

September: 1st prize - $100 Epinons Café Press Gift Card (more like shopping spree and this one took me by surprise since I wasn’t even really trying to win)
October: 3rd prize - $100 eBay Gift Certificate (now you know)
November: $100 Target Gift Certificate (this one I found out about recently and am totally excited about getting because I worked my ass off for it because I enjoy Target and could use a few things from there)
December: $1,000 (one of 4 or 5 major prizes that happened to be in the thousands)

January’s contest is for more money, but boy did December completely clean me out. My review output has dropped insanely, but still at one a day. They’re not all first reviews, but many of them still are. If I win, fabulous. If not, hey that just means someone else I probably know does and that’s cool.

All in all, the world of writing is going along pretty sweet. I rejoice in that.



Currently: In "yay!" mode

A Stupid Snippet for You

"Why are you wearing all black?"
"I felt like looking like a badass today and this was the best I could do."

When I was still living in my little box at school, a thought occurred to me. I frequently left my door unlocked. The only way for people to get to it was for me to let them in the door outside the hall or if they came down the stairs. One day I began thinking, thoughts that were slightly spurred on by the story of that poor girl who disappeared from campus and showed up dead in Mississippi, what if someone came into my room with less that pleasant intentions? How long would it be before someone found me? What could they do in the meantime? Ugly things like that.

I know. Twisted, yes. Morbid, yes. Creepy, ohyeah. But as horrible as all that sounds, I was slightly intrigued by the idea in the way that it might make for an interesting story. While I never did anything solid with the idea, I did slap down 2 and 1/2 pages of random stuff. I figure, it being October and near Halloween, I might as well share it with you.

Read on, think on your dorm days, and be creeped out. Or not. Enjoy either way. =P

(Untitled Piece)

“I was disbanded.”

“What?”

He looked at me. “Kicked out of the medical service – they took away my license.”

I sure as hell didn’t feel sorry for him. I sneered instead. “Yeah? What did you do? Kill someone?”

“I stole a heart.”

“What?”

“I stole a heart that was meant for some rich lady to put inside a little boy whose parents couldn’t afford the transplant. That woman didn’t do anything. She ran around with her fake body parts, buying $300 shoes. She’d step on that boy’s face if she saw him in the street.”

Was I supposed to start feeling sorry for him now? As though he had done some noble thing? Could I even believe him?

“So I stole the heart that was meant for her and put it inside him, free of charge. What could they do? They couldn’t take it back out again.”

“What, so you just let her die to save him? You like playing God is that it?”

He stomped over and peered into my face, hints of anger showing through his expression. “Money buys a human heart – it fucks the system. Do you have a thing for the rich? Are you one of those girls who goes shopping when she gets depressed? That would really make things a lot easier for me.”

“Fuck you,” I snarled and then turned my head, pressing the side of my face into the pillow. I didn’t want to look at him anymore. “I fucking hate people. Everyone is so goddamn twisted these days.”

* * *

I felt like the man in the Pit and the Pendulum – strapped down and waiting while impending death swung ever closer. But he had said, “I won’t kill you unless I have to.” Had to? What was that supposed to mean? What other purpose did he have in mind besides killing me? Why else would he infiltrate my room amidst so many other people and simply handcuff me to my bed? He hadn’t done anything – yet. It was the impending “yet” that I feared. “Yet” could be anything. I immediately labeled him as a psychopath, and you never knew what psychopaths were capable of or happened to be planning. Maybe that was his flawed way of telling himself what he was doing was okay. He wasn’t going to hurt me, just tie me up for a while, make himself at home, and then at the last minute – slash! My blood would be soaking into the comforter, turning it the color I had been searching for four years ago. And he’d be on his way out, locking the door behind him, still telling himself he hadn’t done anything wrong or some other psychopathic bullshit.

I realized I was sweating profusely and it was cold.

How long would it be before someone noticed I was gone? Or worse – how long would it be before someone discovered my dead body? I hadn’t done anything for two days now and no one had done a thing. I’d be lucky if someone called my cell phone or my room phone. The fact that I was offline made no difference – just my luck to decide to quit using my instant message program off and on the past several weeks. Everyone probably thought I was going through yet another one of my hermit stages where I simply secluded myself in my box of a room and wrote and read. Would they ever wonder what I was doing? Did they? Would it be the stench of rotting flesh that would bring everyone running to my door, like it happens in movies? What would I look like when they finally broke it down? Would the blood have turned black-brown by then? I suddenly remembered the victim of Sloth in the movie Se7en. Jesus Christ.

I hated that fucking movie.

* * *

“Yes,” he said, examining what was unmistakably a scalpel, “finally I have everything I need.”

It was all laid out on my tiny space for writing – hardly even a desk – more like the top of a bookshelf. I loved books.

He turned to me, his eyes sliding down my form. I thought of moving, squirming around in one last ditch effort to fight, but I knew it was useless, stupid, make me look pathetic. So instead I opted for staring at him with every ounce of hate I’d ever possessed. I made my body as still as stone, hoping that if looks could kill, they would, and it would be his body bleeding all over the floor for people to find when he started to rot.

He walked over to my bed – a few steps at best – and looked down into my face, silver scalpel still in hand. Shivers roiled through me.

“I told you,” he said as my teeth chewed in hatred and fear at the cloth in my mouth, “I wouldn’t kill you unless I had to. Well, I didn’t have to, and you’ll be fine if you live through this.” He turned around again and went back to the neatly organized tools and picked up a syringe filled with an alien liquid.

If I live through this? Every curse ever known to man popped into my head. If only I could get free I’d transform into an Amazon – a crazed female berserker he’d probably never faced before and I’d wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until I heard his neck snap or his windpipe crushed. All the instruments he had, all the gauze and needles – was I looking at the new Jack the Ripper? The single thought of Maybe I should tell him I’m a virgin swept through my mind. Did it matter? He might only get angry, tell me I was lying, poke me with needles and cut me open slowly anyway. I was sure he was some Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and I simply hadn’t seen Mr. Hyde yet.

He was beside me now, sitting down on the bed next to my hips, looking sad. As if he had any right to. That sad face looked at me and for a moment neither of us moved. I wanted to say something, anything – preferably the worst possible thing that could enter my mind that might damage his intentions. But the gag would have reduced it to growls and mumbles, the same level as a muzzled dog. His right arm moved and came to rest on the other side of my body; he was leaning over me now, his face looking into mine and for a moment I couldn’t control, the briefest of moments, I felt depressed for him. He might have been handsome if it were any other situation. A man I would give my phone number to while blushing like a fool. The depression transmuted into hatred again. A man I might willingly give access to my life – that’s the part that made it so goddamn frightening.

“I promise I’ll be careful,” his tone was soft, and whatever his intentions may have been, the softness of it drove fear into me almost more than if he were a raving lunatic. At least then he would have made more noise and attracted more attention. “I’ll leave the door open but you’ll have to contact them yourself.”

Contact who? The hell was this guy talking about? He lowered his head, all the muscles in abdominal region tightening so much they began cramping almost immediately; his forehead was nearly touching my chest. Don’t touch me, you bastard, don’t touch me…

He looked up again. “I’m sorry about all this.”

Fuck you.

Sitting up, he clinked the glass of the syringe, letting any excess air escape before leaning over again and carefully slipping the needle into a vein in the crook of my elbow. I watched as he returned to the array of instruments, feeling heavy and losing hope, my own human water eking out around my eyes. Fuzzy darkness crept in and I could see him standing there, waiting against the short bookcase, silvery scalpel waiting patiently to begin what it was created for.

* * *

I found out what he took hours later after I woke up. I had called the police, woozy, in a strange near-absence of pain, a distorted version of my room. All I knew was that he was gone, my door was ajar, the phone was there, working, and another human answered the number of 911.

They arrived and took me to the hospital immediately. I don’t remember a lot. I think all my thoughts were consumed with how I was alive, alive and relatively whole, as far as I knew. I remember mumbling it aloud a few times.

When I was finally coherent and my parents had been called, I begged them to tell me what he had done and they finally relented, explaining that I was in good condition, but a part of my liver was missing. I was aware of the neat stitches that now graced my side but never even entertained the idea that something had been removed from my body.


Happy Halloween

Where Have The Pages Gone?

Indeed. Where have they gone?

I never heard back from the guy I sent my stuff to. Maybe he was so unimpressed he decided to forgo writing back and saying anything. Not something I appreciate. If you think it sucks then for God's sake tell me! Sheesh.

I've gotten a few more random rejections here and there. Tor said no. Mmm. I sent off another attempt to Windstorm Creative Ltd. It would be fantastic if they thought otherwise. I don't have any high hopes though. Rejection is part of the job. Even all of you know that by now because I've mentioned it so often. If it happens again I'm thinking I should try getting an agent. Might make things a bit easier. Then the hunt will begin to find one.

Haven't been doing much writing at all lately. I'm stressed, or mildly stressed all the time. I have some issues focusing. Not a good thing. It frustrates me even more. I hate knowing there isn't anything I can do about my present position except wait until I have everything under control. Reading Stephanie Plum has given me a small boost, though. I've been scribbling some nonsense in the red pieces notebook, so I feel that that's something.

I don't know. I felt before like my muses were all locked up somewhere, in comas, whatever. Now it's just the whole writing thing is quiet. Sleeping. I feel like working on another book is dumb until I get something freaking published. I mean, what's the point in making yet another something if the first one isn't going anywhere yet? That and I still have to muddle through a lot of filler and filler annoys me. Ok, well maybe it doesn't annoy me, but it's not the same as the good stuff, so it's not as much fun to write. Gotta be there though. I've tried to think of ways around it, but nothing works so I'm sort of stuck with it. And I don't even want to talk about grad school writing...

Writing = slow. *sigh*


Currently: Hummm....

Life Throws Weird Shit At Me

As I wait for the library to inform me that the book I've requested has come in, I write reviews and have delved into the world of Anne Rice (no Sandra, Sarah, not the A. N. Roquelaure version of her). Ashley bought a huge chunk of a book a while back - it contains Interview with the Vampire, The Vampire Lestat, and Queen of the Damned all in one shot. I'd been thinking at dinner a few nights ago, "I need a good vampire story," and like an idiot started thinking I should ask the book leaders of Epinions when it dawned on me that Ashley had Anne Rice sitting in her closet. So that should keep me in line for a while.

Aside from that, I've been thinking, "Crap, if we move soon..." I'm still waiting on responses from 10 different places about work I've sent. I suppose I'd have to send another letter to them just to be sure all rejections (oh all right, I'll say it just to be positive, acceptances) get to the right place. That would suck. But I suppse it's something I'll have to face (possibly - the longest I'll have to wait is around 4 months...hopefully. Might be up to 6).

Then there's the review thing. Been cranking those out pretty steadily, from anime to the books I've been reading (still haven't reviewed Wicked yet - not sure if I want to review it before or after I read Wizard of Oz), from V for Vendetta to Black Adder, just a medley of stuff really. But it's Epinions that brings me to my odd yet interesting news about writing.

About a week or so ago I got an email from a fellow Epinioner about a book he was working on about challenges people face and the various coping mechanisms they use to deal with them. Things of that nature. All giddy for a fellow writer, I obliged, of course, and wished him all sorts of luck. He'd mentioned working in publishing for quite some time, so the man knows his stuff. I made a joke and mentioned how I write too, though since I'm into the fantasy genre, I'll be the one most likely to starve. He wrote back and told me he worked for Houghton Mifflin and if I had anything they might publish, let him take a gander at it and he'd pass it on to the appropriate editor. Houghton Mifflin. Houghton Mifflin. Do you know how kick ass that is? They're the ones putting out copies of Lord of the Rings. I have their version sitting on my freaking shelf. They only take agented submissions. Let me reiterate - I don't have an agent. Now granted, he mentioned that since they are the ones cranking out Lord of the Rings, it's not exactly high priority for them to take on any other fantasy work. After all, Lord of the Rings is like the Bible for all fantasy, let's face it. And we all know the Bible is always the top selling book in America.

*dies*

Opportunities like this don't come every day. Hell, they hardly ever come...ever. But I'm not fooling myself either. Oh, I can dissolve into dreams of glamour of just how awesome it would be for them to pick up little ole me. Good lord how I would owe that guy everything I freaking owned. But truthfully, I was hesitant to send him anything. I'm not trying to put myself down, but I don't think it will fly. I don't think Houghton Mifflin is interested in publishing any more fantasy - it certainly isn't listened on their website or in Writer's Market. So instead of wasting the man's time with the whole shebang, I just sent him the first three chapters and the prologue. I told him all of this. He did say that if I thought they'd be interested to send it along, but I'm leaning towards "Probably not" so I took the middle road and just sent him a piece. After all, as I said to him in the email, he knows more about the company than I do. So I'm letting him make the final call. I refuse to get my hopes too high (or high at all for that matter), but like I said, I can't help but think, "Oh, what if..."

Man that would so rule.

Naturally, I put him on my WOT.

On an additional note, I got a reply from Edwardsville this time. I got plenty of help from Carbondale, though never a specific reason why I didn't get chosen. However, the Edwardsville reply basically said what I knew all along. HAH! Now I have my proof; less genre writing, more literary fiction, less on novels, more on short stories. Fack, if I don't have my work cut out for me. I can never think of a good short story, much less a literary one. *rolls up sleeves* Well, if they want it, then they're gonna get it. I'm sure I've got a literary short story in me somewhere that I can crank out!

Currently: Haha!

Scylla and Charybdis

I sent off 3 more letters today, or a total of 13 poems...plus the poem I sent off electronically yesterday. Thinking back, I should have sent two, but I'd settled on one poem in another document and thus forgot about it until digging around in all my stuff today.

I failed in my attempt at an all-nighter. In fact, there never really was any attempt. The dog ended up in my room and since she's getting older, I didn't want her to have to deal with the light on all night and I wasn't about to kick her out, so I just went to bed around 12am (and subsequently slept like crap all night).

So the writing is sketchy. I've been meaning to write to two newspapers and offer them services, but I don't know how that will turn out. I'm leaning towards not-so-great, which makes me want to not bother at all, hence saving me two (or four if SASEs [self addressed stamped envelope] are involved) stamps. Still, there's another part of me that says, "Well hell, why not?" so I'm still iffy on all that.

No one needs writers anymore it seems. Anytime I do a job search, it's always for engineers and sales people, always sales people. Customer service - crap that has to do with dealing with bitchy people for days and months and years on end. No offense to the human population (actually, scratch that, I don't care), but fuck that. People suck. You all know my position on that. It's similar to Dane Cook's position on shoes. There's got to be something out there that fits me better. Something I can slip into without too much worry, something that puts me in a position that even if I deal with people, my status puts them off to even thinking about being bitchy. A long shot, I know, and something I'll probably never, or at least not soon, find. I'll probably have to settle on something that simply brings in dough until...well, I'm not sure.

Actually, I want to say, "Until we move." There's more opportunity in Pennsylvania. At least, that's what I've been telling myself. There isn't much that Champaign/Rantoul has to offer, as we all know. I should just apply to Barnes & Noble for now because at least then I'd be in a quiet atmosphere where the likelihood of meeting up with bitchy people is greatly minimized. But then there's another problem. The car. I made the mistake of saying, "This is Nikki's summer of travel!" The reason behind my decision to work, that and the writing. But it turns out since we only have two cars and mom will be working, dad will be at school, and someone will have to take Ashley to Parkland, the ability to travel is slim to none. Summer of travel my ass. My plans with Stacey got cancelled, thus ruining the possibility of visiting my grandparents, and you all know how my Colorado trip went. I feel like I should do something, but at the same time, I feel like I'm simply stuck between a rock and a hard place. Sure, I should build up my credit and aim for a car, but even with a credit card, what do I do? You all know me - I never buy anything. Ok, that's not necessarily true, but when I do buy things, I never buy enough to merit the use of a credit card as it is. $100 a pop, max (and I think that's only happened twice and even then it was planned).

Another thing I need to do is email the graduate evaluators (or whatever you'd like to call them) and ask about my previous attempt to get into their school. As it was the writing samples that took me out, I need to find out (if at all possible) what it was that they didn't like. Was it the style? The content? Or is it simply that I'm a bad writer and have never realized it (which I doubt due to the fact that I've never had a teacher take me aside and inform me, and I've had some that I know they would have done if it were true, or at the very least, write plenty all over a story/poem I've turned in, and though I've had not-so-awesome comments before, never anything telling me I need to rethink everything). Perhaps I should do that now before I forget...

So that's me. I feel a bit like Megan, though I think I'm stressing less because she doesn't know what will happen if those morons don't contact her (which also makes no sense to me considering how this country appears to be hurting for teachers 365 days a year). In the end, once I get answers from the grad schools (if I do - they'll have to remember who I am or dig up my file, that is, if my file still exists...which also reminds me, I need to contact two professors about reference letters as well as the career center in order to ask about my file info blah blah blah) I'm going to make a second attempt. I'm not going to bother with U of I this time around. I've heard way too many negative things about them. I place most stock not in what my father and all his collegues say, but Mari, the younger (my age actually) sister of Nick (Stacey's boyfriend) as she went there as an art student. Apparently all the art teachers have their minds made up already as to what is art (which most of us would probably throw up on - you know, shit on canvas, 5-yr-old scribble, that sort of thing) and what is not (such as Mari's work, which is very impressive), and that sort of thing always worries me. People who reject things and have no open mind when it comes to writing/art/etc. that is different from what they write/create/etc. and thus they are biased against things. I keep telling Stacey that if Mari does open an art gallery, she can hire me. I always did love art and music and all things that pay $0 in this world. Go figure. Point is, Mari hated U of I (hear hear!) so this time I'll try Penn State. See what happens. That would be handy. Besides, my itch to go somewhere has not been scratched and I like to look at that sort of thing as a major adventure, and I'm always up for a new adventure.

So yeah, if that goes through, Nicole will be going to Pennsylvania.

Nicole also needs to get her butt to the library to read two books in order to get a feel for another publisher in order to submit in the case that they match what I write. I went through a lot of my poetry lists to try and find out who is good and who's information is basically dead. Hard to say though - I'd have to phone some people if I wanted to know really bad, but the easier way would to just find an updated Poet's Market (Barnes & Noble trip, sneak in the back and check without buying). Until then I'm waiting on about 5 email messages sent out yesterday (some coming back that same hour saying "Sorry, this ain't goin' thru."). One came back positive, though the editor said nothing about possible submissions. Who knows.

Whew! *sigh* There's a lot I need to do, to consider, all that jazz. But this blog entry has gotten long enough and I'm sure you all have things you need to do (or not, I don't know) so until next time!

Currently: Mm...I dunno...

Edit: Brownies - that's what he made. And he bought icing to boot.

Feel The Anger Flowing Through You...

I am never using fanfic.net again.

Let's be honest: That fucking sucked.

Their program for uploading and posting made no sense. They say in their little guidelines: "Do not upload chapters as separate documents." Basically it says I'm supposed to load one main document and then edit it in some other place in order to make chapters.

Uh, right - where?

Their system is backwards. Or outdated. Or contradictory. Or something. I had no other way but to upload separate documents for different chapters. There seriously was no other way to do it. And let me tell you, I'm patient with computer programs. It's one thing for my computer, which I'm used to, to suddenly freak out on me and hence I freak out in return. It's totally different for me to be online with some new program that doesn't have a lot to it at all and be stuck working with it for over 2 hours. I should have been done over an hour ago. I don't know why it wouldn't accept number signs or asterisks either. That was really getting to me. Finally managed to settle on dashes.

Ugh. Man that was annoying.

Glad I'm finally done with it. I'm not touching it or posting anything. Ever. Again.

On another note, I'm back into #1H. I should work with some poetry. I need to email some people too. I need to do a lot of things in the world of writing. I rewrote a section of #1H, or am in the middle of it. Cutting out a lot of the beginning. I didn't want to introduce characters I really wasn't ever going to use. Makes no sense. A waste of 5 pages, but oh well. I like it better this way. This was how I was initially going to do it anyway so hey, good times.

That's really all I have to say. I really just had to rant about that site and its stuff. Honestly...

Currently: Feeling Violent

"Hello Beastie."

If you recall in the last posting, I was creating a fanfic based off of the most recent Pirates of the Caribbean movie. (Shut up, I already know I'm stupid). Actually, it's not really based off it, it's just a random idea I had that I had to act on. I really did only mean for it to be like, 8 pages. Seriously. I had no intention for it to get so big. Would you like to know the page count? Okay. Keep in mind, this isn't typed up yet, so the page count is of college ruled paper (one sheet, front and back) with my handwritten words all over it in that tiny style I have.

20 pages.

Yeah. I ran out of room in my previous notebook after the initial 9 pages. Actually, the initial story is only about 18 or 19 pages. Then I just continued on with a few random ideas that popped up due to the soundtrack (which I again, highly recommend. It seriously kicks pirate ass). I finished the whole thing up this morning, actually. I was writing all during the trip (save when we were out hiking) and was up until about 2 last night (or maybe it was 1:30...I don't know) because the storm would have kept me up anyway and I was on a roll. That's when I finished the intial idea. I did the last two this morning since I didn't want to go down and instantly have TV in my face.

Aside from my pirate nonsense, on the 19th I sent off parts of my first book to a publisher. I know, one try isn't going to cut it, but I've been stuck doing research on places, trying to get their information, having issues with that, trying to see what they're looking for and if my stuff fits the bill, etc. etc. Whether or not I should get an agent, and even then if said agent is still in business, yadda yadda. It's messy. I'll probably have to go get the most updated edition of Writer's Market. Or maybe Author's Market, the one specifically for books. At least I'm pretty sure that's what it's called. There are two other places I can send it to, but I need to do more research on them to see if I should even bother wasting the postage.

Anyway, that's that. I don't know if I'll send the finished pirate story to Megan directly or just give her the site I'll end up posting it on. Either way, if you seriously want to read it, contact her, haha, because I'm done with it after this (except for Stacey, since you don't know Megan).

Okay. Peace out.


Currently: Ho hum.

Edited at 12:23pm 7/29: It's 28 typed pages (single-spaced of course)

BLOODY PIRATES!

The deal is I've just gotten done watching the new Stargate episodes, SG-1 and Atlantis. A select few of you know what I'm talking about, and probably even fewer of you give a shit. I think Stef watches it. And now I'm up here rambling in order to avoid the news, which is perpetually on in this house. Oh, how I hate the news. It's always the same shit; people dying, countries being assholes, everyone hating us. I do not see how this is news.

Now the Stargate episodes should have incited the little #1H muse, but instead it's merely made me all excited to see the new ones, which I have to wait until next Friday to see, which I will then have to wait a few more weeks to see since I'll be off romping in Colorado at that time. Damn. Oh well. The thing is, I've been writing something else. Something pointless, something utterly useless, something I can't even modify later in order to be useful. Okay, that's not entirely true; I'm sure if I really wanted to and really tried I could, but I'm really not into bothering with it. I should be doing something productive, and yet I'm writing a bunch of drivel, which I initially thought would take up maybe 5, 6 pages and has extended to...well I'm not sure of the page count at the moment, but it's getting to the end of my notebook, which means I'll have to get into my other one, so I suppose it's probably 8-10 pages by now.

So just what is taking up all my time and has me more involved than the #1H story (which would have me more involved were I not busy writing all the stuff that has to draw into the story before it gets good - never was a fan of the crap. Not that it's crap, it's just not as much fun to write)? A fanfic. Yeah. How lame is that? I never thought in a million years I'd be bothered with something like this. You see, I went to see the newest Pirates of the Caribbean and when it got to a certain point, I was all excited about the whole thing and when the movie was over I was more giddy than I have been in a long time when it comes to a movie. It was that damn kiss between Elizabeth and Jack that had me all revved up. If I've ruined it for you, well, trust me, I haven't, and you should know better anyway. Anyway, something in me clicked and some alien idea got into my head. Suddenly I found I was more interested in Johnny Depp/Jack (hard to say which exactly it was that was tugging at me) than Orlando Bloom (whose hotness, by the way, went away a long time ago when he started dating Kate Bosworth or whatever her name is - a Hollywood chick, and that's all I needed to know for him to not be cool anymore, or at least, as cool). That kiss affected me more than I thought it would (I knew it was coming, all thanks to the TV guide channel), and suddenly the pairing of Elizabeth and Jack was very interesting.

I read a few short pieces at a fanfic site where you can find basically anything you might find interesting (if you recall my search for my muses and the failed excursion with Kakashi) that dealt with the ElizabethxJack pairing, but decided in the end, these didn't work well for me. Or rather, they didn't sit well. I couldn't very well let Elizabeth suddenly abandon her feelings for Will, thus none of the fanfics seemed to work out. Then I started thinking. Then I got an scenario into my head. Basically one scenario is all it takes. To be honest, I wasn't really ever going to do anything about it. I've had an inclination to do a pairing before a while back when school was still in session concerning some anime characters, but since I knew it would be pointless writing, never acted on the impulse and simply waited for it to die down. Took a while. The thing is, I knew this idea wouldn't go away until I did something about it - instead it would just play in my head every night until I stuck it on paper, similar to Dumbledore's little pensieve. Too many thoughts in your head? Take them out.

So I did, and have been for the past three days (I believe). I was going to try and flash-bang it, like I said, slap it down in 5 or 6 pages, but as usual my ideas tend to grow a little larger and I get into more detail, yadda yadda yadda, and here we are at the present. It will end, and I won't have to worry about it anymore; if I want to revisit it I can always just dive into my little paper pensieve and enjoy. And I do feel like I'm being wasteful of my time (not the paper; that's exactly what that particular notebook is for). Instead of writing query letters and such I'm writing about...well I won't tell you exactly what I'm writing about since I feel a bit stupid for doing it in the first place, though I do admit that it is damn hard to wade through Jack's thought processes, not to mention coming up with good dialogue for him. I consider that, at the very least, good writing practice.

When I'm done, I might post it at the fanfiction site in order to give millions the chance to read my rubbish, and I've also been considering sending it to Megan (yes, just Megan) seeing as she's my fellow Pirates fan. I doubt the rest of you will want to read my nonsense, but something tells me she'd be all excited about it. From there if she wanted to distribute it, by all means, I'd give her leave to, but I'm not going to bother shipping it out everywhere.

So that's it. That's what my dumb self has been up to in the pencil lead sector. Dorky, huh?

...I am such a geek.

Currently: Bright-eyed and Bushy-tailed