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
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'
Bloody black dog. I can't seem to shake the thing. And me thinking it was all roses. They have thorns, don't you know.
'Bath Time' is finished, and should be up this weekend, I hope. Like 'Fellow Travellers', it has a pinch of truth swaddled by muse's wanderings. Apropos of nowt: spooge is such a great word!
'Probisher' is getting longer and longer, and consequently more and more convoluted. I want to write an 'A does this, then that, then a bit of the other ... and finally shags B' Oh, s
The 2007 NaNoWriMo is finished! Thank the stars.
I wrote a story called 'Harvest Time' which started off one thing, and ended up something else entirely - there is no accounting for my muse's whim.
It's not finished, but hopefully will be soon, and then It'll be edited and released chapter by chapter. It's sequelesque to Nyquist and Feredir.
I'd like it if I could assign more than one category to a post. It would be peachy, because this might well end up being claptrap as well, and possibly include a whine or two. So.
Trust is the most important part of any relationship, be it in real life or in the relationships we have with people we are never likely to meet. There are people here I like, there are people here I admire, but as far as trust goes is it right, or indeed safe, to open up and be truthful about who I am. Stupid questio
Time and time again I do it, and time and time again I berate myself when I ... umm ... wake up.
Never, never, never, never, never post stuff when in an altered state. There is an off chance that it might be okay, but the odds are similar to those of winning the lottery. Best not to bother - I tell myself yet again. Gah!
Stupid, stupid me. Now, I must go and stand in the corner for an hour.
Confused? Here's a poem I wrote about 'it'. Profound or what?!
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).
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.
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
Having moved to a place without a phone line it took an age and a half to get that sorted, and a deal longer to get ADSL up and running. Now, I'm back online and it feels ... mmmmmmmm yummy scrumptious!
We're a five minute walk from the beach. Sadly it isn't sand, but it does have water which is quite an important pre-requisite for a beach. The cats like it, too. A boon, 'cause having sad cats ain't where it's at, at all. AND the garden is small which make mowing the lawn a doddle. I like doddl
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
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!
I've sharpened my fingers, pencils, and all.
Determined to succeed: I shall not fall.
The wayside of NaNoWriMo is painful indeed,
littered with writers, egos, and need.
Yup, it's the last few hours before the off. Actually, quite a few hours, but for an Emu of little bonce (ergo weency brain) the hours stream by evermore rapidly.
I even know what I'll write! Sort of, almost ... nearly.
If you want to keep in touch with my NaNoWriMo efforts, I have a special blog for it called 'Camy's Idioc
"They don't like it up 'em, Captain Mainwaring!" This line from 'Dad's Army' set the tone for Katie (ancient siamese beasty) having her claws clipped. She's pretty much house-bound nowadays and her claws are ... well 'savage' belies the truth. 'Wickedly Bitching Sabatier' comes closer.
You don't want her on your lap: unless you're wearing chain-mail, and unfortunately, mine's rusty.
So ... I tried. The thing is with cats: they're psychic. She knew I was nervous even before I decided to start
As a few of you know I've recently moved. It was a pain in the rear, and in order to get out in the time required I either had to throw a lot of stuff away or store it somewhere. Unfortunately I'm an inveterate hoarder - I don't mean keeping piles and piles of old newspapers or heaps of rubbish, but I've got a lot of personal stuff like photos and ... well, stuff. You know - or perhaps you're lucky and don't.
Anyway, I got rid of two van loads at the dump, and then I found out about the conce
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.
The idea of customer service and 'satisfaction' in the UK sucks. There, I've said it.
Like a big kid I fell in lust with the idea of getting a Sony Reader. It's not that I can afford one. It's just that I've got a credit card, and I haven't gone mental with it for a while.
So, on Saturday M and I schlepped into the local Branch of Waterstones. Waterstones is supposedly the UK's biggest chain of book shops. They have a deal with Sony to sell their 'Readers', and a dinky site to flog eBooks.
Okay, so I have just under 12 hours to get my act together.
I have an outline of sorts, which is all well and dandy, but I wanted the whole thing nailed down. I wanted to know exactly who was going to be doing what to whom and when -- to the nth degree. Fat chance. I should know myself by now.
I do, however, have a title: 'Worth.' A good and worthy title I'm sure you'll agree.
Good luck to everyone who's taking part!
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
... because it's Sunday, which means I haven't blogged for a week. Not that that's anything to write home about: I've not a lot to say. However, now I shall vent as I'm annoyed, and might well soon be ill. Why? Because I happen to like cold coffee and hate flys.
Obvious then it is to cover one's coffee mug: and if not, at least check for alien invaders before drinking from it. Obvious to all but me, sadly.
A mouth full of coffee (nice) and a large fly (not so nice) is enough to send even th
Lord, did I need a hit.
I was cold turkeying - a neat zombiesque dance I've worked out - all the way to the phone socket. With trembling hands I ripped apart the packaging of my new *free* wireless router. Fumbling in haste, I managed to plug in the filters and slip the cable home with a snick!
With antici ...
... pation I powered up and logged on.
Drooling as sweet, glorious bits and bytes flooded my system.
Sweet, sweet WWW.
Yep, with a new ISP I'm back ... oh yes *shudder* I am.