Be warned: this is going to be angsty.
The back story:
There are three of us who have revolved around one another for a lot of years. M (male) - who is my partner in music, life and all; and B (female) who is my partner in life and living. I love them both unreservedly. They are my soulmates.
Because of circumstances beyond our control - and hideously high house prices - B and I moved to Wales, whilst M stayed in Sussex.
Late last month B went into hospital for a 'routine' e
The vet said (not verbatim) 'As the nights are now drawing in she won't go on heat again until spring.'
Stupid vet. I woke in the middle of the night as Sassy (said cat) yowled in my ear. Luckily, I avoided a heart attack.
Sassy talks a lot. Siamese always do. But when she's on heat it's excruciatingly loud. Luckily, we live in a cottage with a very thick wall between us and the neighbour, and a stream on the other side. So no complaints... yet.
She's not big enough for kittens
I love my car, I really do. She's a little silver-grey Renault Clio and goes for miles on very little petrol - which is a boon with petrol at nearly ?5 ($9) a gallon. Yes, she's done me proud ... until late Friday afternoon when her clutch cable snapped. I won't repeat the words we had as I drove her (double de-clutching is a doddle if you don't value your gears) in first and second all the way to M's. Sighing, he then drove me home in a borrowed 3.5 litre BMW that was built when petrol was A LO
Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck!
I should be at 23k words and I'm only at 15k. This does not bode well. Not well at all. Still, one has to try and be positive... it's almost dark, it's cold, I need coffee but can't be arsed to go downstairs and make it. Dear lord, send an angel, fastest.
I suppose I should resort to a picture of the cat:
Today, I've spent a lot of time berating the cat. She seems to get great pleasure out of waltzing over the keyboard. She also sits on it when I'm making coffee - which means removing rows and rows of odd letters. H seems to be popular, as is K.
Other than that it's going well. I'm almost at 8,000 words. I'm hoping they might make sense, too. Who knows?
I haven't had a flu jab in aeons, and don't know why the cat forced me to go.
She's not normally that catty.
Maybe she is; she is, after all, a cat. But I have to agree with her: We are all mad.
Thankfully, I didn't vote for it... not that that is going to make the slightest difference, as the UK sinks slowly beneath the waves. 'Bye bye,' we'll say, and wave, with our stiff upper lips quivering, whilst the xenophobic fucks that caused it will moan that the result 'wasn't quite what we e
I'm sad. Occasionally I think of stuff I've read that I'd like to read again. Yesterday I decided I'd like to re-read 'Carrots & Celery' by Karla Schultz. It was one of the first stories I ever read on-line. It's a sweet story that got better and better as she progressed as a writer (she started it at 16). She posted it to Nifty originally and then Gayauthors hosted her - or rather that story.
I couldn't find it. After a fruitless search I eventually discovered she's left the net and had th
I've been thinking a lot about writing. Today I came across two bits of 'advice' that I found yonks ago and put in a box. Where I originally found them I have no idea. However, as they are worth pondering I thought I'd post them. Here's the first:
Eight basic necessities to create a story - probably, methinks, sword and sorcery. Though they do adapt.
1) one Hero
2) one Villain
3) one object they both desire
4) one journey
5) a couple of sidekicks (generally not more than 3)
6) one wisened
Like most people - or some people, anyway - I have been searching, nay, questing most of my life for the perfect religion. I've been hunting a religion that was a fit for me.
I grew up in the Church of England (Henry VIII's personal (and consequently England's - it's nice to be a King) religion. Henry was miffed because the Pope refused to let him get divorced when he didn't want to off yet another wife). But as religions go C of E wasn't right.... Yes, there were nice hymns. Yes, I was in the
I didn't make it to the 50,000 this year, sadly. I know I shouldn't be peeved with myself, or miffed, or standing in disgrace in the corner: but I am - a little (not the standing in the corner bit). I don't like failing. It irks.
It also irks that 50,000 words isn't actually an awful lot. If I were serious about becoming a writer I should be churning that in a month - with or without NaNoWriMo.
Bum. I've been 'hoist by my own petard,' stupid git I am. ;)
Ah well [snort], there's always nex
Oddly, and even though I've been desperately racking my brain (shows what a weeny one I have) for ideas, AND I have ideas written down, I have not the vaguest inkling what I'm going to write. Except, of course, an occasional blog entry cursing my stupidity for even mentioning it in the first place.
Oh GAWD! What on earth shall I do (he says, tears streaming down his feathered chops).
I'm trying to figure out what to write in November. It's hard, because generally I get an idea and off I gallop - which is NOT the way to set about writing anything of great length, e.g.: a novel. It didn't work with Seraph, and it hasn't worked for the last few NaNoWriMo's I've taken part in. I've ended up knackered and with a part finished piece I never seem to get round to finishing. Don't get me wrong; I think some of what I've written has been okay, but short stories seem to suit me better.
So very, very sad.
Looking back on my adolescence I find it hard to believe that every little thing was so important and so vital to my happiness. Whether it was waiting for a parcel that arrived a few days late, or a look from a friend that I misinterpreted. From walking into a room and thinking the reason they all stopped talking was because they were talking about me, to reading the cricket scorer's book and seeing that a really hard catch I made had b
I've been pondering this year's NaNoWriMo and trying to decide what I'm going to write. What I want is to end up on December 1st with a finished 50,000 word novella, rather than 50,000 words of a novel I'll never get around to completing.
I write short stories and I like to think I'm not bad at them; but novels are a different beast altogether. Novels require more than my skittish self seems to want to give. They require serious thought and planning - especially if they're good. Whereas, for m
This Thursday, after a month and a week of waiting, we finally get Broadband switched on. And, supposedly, it's between 5 and 7Mb - which, considering it was 0.5MB at our last place, is like giving a kid a Porche.
Living in the country is very nice:
I know this now I don't.
The grass elsewhere is always greener,
but move again I won't.
Ah, hindsight. Suh-weet hindsight.
The move went well - in as much as we moved. Hard work? I should bleedin' well coco! There aren't enough web-bots or admins to remove the expetives I'd like to write - or masseurs to ease my aching muscles. Obviously I'm not fit enough to live in a house with three floors, 'cause, duh, floors mean stairs. Of course, being avian, I'
Today I am packing my life into boxes.
Today I am packing up.
Today all I want to do is veg out
but for that I am all out of luck.
I'm sitting here - when I should be packing boxes - writing this blog and wishing it was Wednesday. If this was a movie: the camera would be on me and the background would melt away, morphing into my new room. Sadly, I don't have a 'make Sunday Wednesday' machine, nor am I in a movie. Hohum.
Can't loiter here, nattering. Gotta get on (looks around at th
Along with a bunch of other worthies I've had an awful lot of fun over the last couple of months. The result is a book - initially an eBook - available in .ePub and .mobi (for kindle) from www.midnightdude.com
Why? There are a shed load of reasons, but primarily it's to raise money to keep AwesomeDude.com healthy. Times are hard for all of us, and though there's a 'donate' button on the front page, we thought that as an alternative to a donation selling a book would be good. And it's nice to gi
It's odd how we become attached to our cars.
For the last two years I've been driving a Citroen Berlingo. I was given it, so I can't complain that it was big and slow and had a bit of a slippy clutch. Over time I came to love her (tear rolls down cheek). No, I couldn't take a Porche from a standing start - but I could fit all the bands gigging equipement in the back. Then, she failed her MOT (mandatory yearly government safety check). Not badly, but add to that a new clutch and it was going to
We released our album nearly a year ago.
Eleven months ago I sent a track off to BBC radio. Last week I got a reply. It looks like they're going to play it, and if they do they'll let me know.... I won't be holding my breath. ;)
You live and learn. In this world of instant communication we seem to expect an instant response. Fat chance: it's really like dancing through amber.
It's been yonks and yonks since I've put finger to keypad and blogged. My bad, but then I have been somewhat, nay, frightfully busy. Yep, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
We made a second video, which was erm ... yes. It was. Lo-res is one reason I'm not trumpeting it to the hills. Never again will we make lo-res videos. It's not worth the time spent. We've also been rehearsing 'till our fingers and tonsils bled and the studio had to be emptied by paramedics (name the film that includes
He might not have a feathered wing
But he loves to howl and pretends to sing
He tippy tap typed all through the night
For thirty days and it came out right.
Phew. Done, but not close to dusted.
Congratulations to fellow winner Bruin Fisher, my comrade throughout the 30 days. May your jockstrap never waver!
We're on day 27 and there are three days to go. Some of our group have already finished, but Bruin and I are both a little behind. That's not bottom talk by the way. My behind is splendid as it is.
We're supposed to be in the studio editing another video, but as it's snowing here I have an excellent excuse for writing instead. W00T say I!
I absolutely shouldn't be here waffling, but waffling seems far more pleasant than having to decide which of my characters - all of whom I like - should be o