summer_sparrow: (secret garden)
I'm really good about reading my friendslist, and terrible about posting.

Recent things:

-I am married (Valentine's Day)

-I am moving (Friday, still not packed, eep)

-I am sick (head cold, then chest cold, now bronchitis, sinus infection, and ear infection. Everybody sounds like they're talking through water and if the stupid antibiotics and decongestant don't start working soon I will go CRAZY.)

-I am stupid and apparently contracted helium-hand. The result of this is that I am now the local barony's Webminister. I made a website. It's not quite what I would have liked.

-Inkheart is the most amazing series ever and you should all read it. I did not think any book could bring back that beautiful, forlorn longing for the place it describes. I did not think any book would make me love words again. Inkheart did.

(The movie wasn't bad either; good enough to get me to the books, anyway. Brendan Frasier is a perfect Silvertongue, and Paul Bettany was a gorgeous Dustfinger. The movie takes a weird turn in the last half, though. The books are much better.)


That's all the news there is. I'll post pictures of the house as soon as I get the keys.

Love you all!

wtf?

Oct. 30th, 2009 12:36 pm
summer_sparrow: (Default)
Ok, so: I hate NaNo. I don't write that way, it's caused me nothing but stress every time I tried.

I'm also still pretty annoyed that I got told to my face that I was "cheating" simply for trying to explain why some people don't consider writing beforehand cheating at all.

(If you don't count the words, it doesn't count. That's my opinion, it doesn't make a thief and a liar, it doesn't mean I cheat on tests, and it pissed me off that those things were said.)

So why on earth am I, two days to November, with Coronet, Mists/Cynagua, and my birthday coming up, with no plot, having not felt like writing in almost two months, why am I thinking "I should NaNo this year."

Wtbloodyf. And on a day when I'm stressed and tired anyway. I do not understand.
summer_sparrow: (sweet sky)
Not even a plot for this one.

Mars is being colonized. People start dying. There is one guy left alive. I think it should be called either "Man from Mars" or "The Last Martian. I have written this and will write no more:


Keep your suits on, they said, always keep your suits on, even in the huts, even where it's pressurized and temperature-controlled and constantly monitored because you never know when these things might break.

Keep your suits on, because it's not like they've been using this tech on Earth's moon for sixty years without a single recorded incident.
Keep you suits on, because there's water here, and you don't know what things we haven't found. You don't know what lies dormant in the dust.

Keep your suit on, sweat and work and breathe and piss and keep your goddamned suit on, and they did, every day, until the claustrophobic loneliness drives you mad.

And they did, every single day, for nothing more than hope.


If anyone's curious, the tech I was referencing was this. *shrugs* I dunno, it seems kinda cool.
summer_sparrow: (Atia of the Julii)
I get to pay $431 dollars to have some teeth yanked out of my mouth, yaaaaaaaay.

Pretty much every physical trait-- curly hair, height, a decided tendency towards the zaftig, etc.-- except for my eyes and my teeth I get from my mom. The eyes, fine-- I like almond better than round anyway-- but seriously, mom, you couldn't pass on a complete lack of wisdom teeth? NOT FAIR.

Also, I've been writing Fallout 3 fanfiction. I've actually written more of this fic than I've written in the past two years total. It's a nice feeling, writing again.
summer_sparrow: (Default)
People who write, I need your help.

I'm kind of in limbo on my zombie thing and I'm avoiding my old standard resource for plotting (NaNo boards), so I was wondering if anyone had links to some good sites or comms that deal with plot and character development.

Thanks in advance you guys, and worship the day of my birth have a wonderful Veteran's Day!
summer_sparrow: (tea and books)
Looks like I might be kind of accidentally Nano-ing. Sort of. And right after a post complaining about how I can't write anymore... I try to do NaNo even when I feel like I can't write.

(I had a fair large chunk of text LJ cut here as to why I wasn't doing NaNo, then I realized that it really had no bearing on the post. Anyone who wants to know can ask. The short version is I find the place far too cliquish and not particularly welcoming these days.)

And THEN I discovered post-apocalyptic novels are not as uncommon as I thought.

I can't being to express my love for apocalypse scenarios and post-apocalyptic stories. I thought WaterWorld was great. I read a Niven story recently (Fallen Angels was the title, I think) wherein fen basically saved the modern-ice-age world.

So I was poking around Amazon.com last night, reading reviews of various post-A fiction and non-fiction. The reviews for two books in particular struck me, because they mentioned realism (as regards post-apocalyptic scenarios).

Fast forward twenty minutes, I'm taking a shower, minding my own business, and suddenly my brain starts trying to figure out realistic zombies and how this affects the world.

Yeah, I'm sure you can all guess what happened from there.

(If this sounds snippy, please chalk it up to the fact that I'm at work and I hate it here. It's not meant to be but I think I read things differently than a lot of people do.) Edited to remove the book titles as they're not actually releveant to my point which was "I'm wanting to write again HURRAH!" and all three comments thus far referenced them. I'm just so completely disinterested in both books (they're not at all my style).
summer_sparrow: (tea and books)
Wow, two posts in under a week. Maybe it's to do with being sick.

I know a lot of people on my flist write.

I haven't written a word of prose in a year (more? I'm not sure), and the only poetry is a sad little scribble about rabbits. Everyone is encouraging me to write, but I can't seem to.

It's not like writer's block. I've dealt with that, I know what it's like. It's simply as if... as if words are no longer in me. I can't write because there is nothing there. No stories or words... not even the flashes of pictures that come like a badly edited movie, the origin of most of my ideas.

I thought perhaps that since writing is sort of cathartic for me, that maybe upturns in my life were the cause. Then I realized I still have problems-- I'm still not happy most of the time-- they're just different problems.

Maybe it's having something else to focus on? Most of my time, my energy, my thoughts, are given to the boy. Not a bad thing-- he makes me happy, usually.

I don't even know what I expect from this post-- it's just sheer frustration. I don't let on usually but this hurts so much I could cry. Words are what I do. They're what I am. I could always, always use words, the only thing I ever handled with complete assurance. Even when I was wrong-- with words, I believed myself right. If you listen to my mother's stories about my childhood-- there's nothing interesting before I could talk. Her favorite was when I was about four-- they told me a ditch I was near was dangerous, and I spent the day repeating "dangerous ditch" in all sorts of ways. I have always loved words and sounds and...

Like I said, I don't know what I expect this to do for me. I don't feel any better than when I started. I just needed to say it, and if I said it to anyone irl, they'd say "well, then write."

They don't understand how much it breaks my heart that I can't.

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Regina

November 2012

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