A case of the busy

No lies. I've been busy. BUSY. Writing, working, schooling (in general) and playing video games, sometimes. A number of things have happened, recently.

I've been focusing a bunch on writing shorts and workshopping them and editing them and re-writing them, and re-re-re-writing them and editing them again. I feel like a lot of them have really improved, gotten into shape, as a result. I've been avoiding submitting anything for a while, too. I need to focus on where I'm sending things, probably. I have a few stories I've been crafting for a few certain opportunities, but I have an overall plan in the works. It will take time, but it always takes time, doesn't it...

In gadget related nonsense, Amazon.com released a neat ePaper reader device called the Kindle. It's cool, has wireless access to Amazon's electronic book catalogue and has a dictionary and ability to search text via a keypad... things the Sony Reader doesn't have. Also, a new version of the Sony eBook reader has been released with fancy anodized aluminum exteriour. Nice. I still like mine, but nice.

Pens? I purchased a Waterman Phileas, which I like very well. Its VERY smooth, and not terribly expensive... certainly a fantastic value, if one were to be interested in nice pens.

Thats all for now. Sorry for the extended silence.

Snarling cur!

What on earth have I been up to?

- Beer Drinking - Oktoberfest was last weekend was oom-pa-tastic
- Pen Shopping - Christmas is coming, I know what I'm buying people who I buy presents for... cheap Japanese Fountain Pens! The gift that keeps on giving.
- School - more classes than usual this semester... 3... which is a lot for full time work and school simultaneously.
- Reading - Books for school, mostly. Studying Kerouac for one class, reading Lydia Davis between other things because I find it is pleasant to read in chunks (and pleasant to read in general!)

I was turned on to Book Mooch recently (bookmooch.com), a site for trading books. It is free, and you have to offer up your unwanted books in order to be able to get things traded to you. You pay for shipping when sending something out to someone who requests one of your books (media mail, usually), but other people pay for shipping to send stuff to you when you request it, so it balances out. It is cheaper than buying the books new, or even in a second hand store. It is a nice system. I have gotten rid of a stack of books I didn't want, and scored a few books I did. What I like most about it, probably, is having a productive and interesting way to get rid of unwanted books (ya know, other than boxing them up to send to the thrift store where they will sit around unwanted for a long time). So far I've scored a Helliconia book by Brian Aldiss, some Whitman, a Larry Niven book, and a collection of poetry in Old English.

Writing, for the past month, has been mostly wrapped up in school, and doing re-writes on stuff that one of my professors has been looking at and giving me notes on. I'll be honest: I've gotten two more rejection letters since the beginning of September, but I'm working through the material either way because that is how you have to plug, plug, plug.

It has been torture seeing advertisements for "The Darjeeling Limited" on television and not having one of the limited-release theater locations anywhere within reasonable driving distance. I am very much looking forward to seeing that particular piece of cinema.

I realized, the other day, that I haven't done anything serious with music in a number of months. I wonder if I'm just too busy, or if it is more that nothing is occurring to me where musical ideas are concerned... as though I've simply run through my creativity tank at the end of the day. That is, indeed, something to ponder.

New Story added to site

Well, I promised I'd add it to my site in its entirety if it was rejected again, and I have -

http://jchristophersilvia.com/work.html

"Office Supplies" is up there, now under "Work and Publications." Have a look.

One more story out right now, which still has some life in it... if it isn't accepted by the folks who have it, I'm pretty sure I'll be sending it over to the place that rejected "Office Supplies," since they didn't seem to have any particular problem with my writing. The story just did not have enough support within their staff to make it in. Thus ends the cycle for one story. At least you still get to read it.

It follows the wonderful Eric McBean on his adventures in the future, where Karaoke is a federal offense.

Enjoy.

Curry?

Jump back into the flow - thats the best way to deal with rejection.

Yell "Oh yeah?" to no one in particular, while you slap down your next marvelous words. This shocks the hell outta your cats, trust me.

Just nailed a submission out to another lit mag, going to get another story prepped fo' subbing too (the accepted, wait, n/m rejected one, this time to a different mag).

It doesn't matter, I write this shit for my own entertainment, mostly, and to get it out of my head. They are my little worlds and they only come out of my head to make room for other little worlds that want a turn. I can enjoy them just fine up there, but they get into fights with newer ideas.

What can you do?

bollocks.

Remember what I said about not counting eggs?

Just got an omelet... no chickens to be found there, had to cut me from the issue. I continue, though.

I just got a new desk, after all... that, right there, is reason enough to write...


...isn't it?

A day in the life.

Though I refuse to be the type of person to count any sort of egg-laying fowl before they hatch, I am talking to the editor of a cool magazine/literary zine thingamajig regarding one of my pieces. Exciting. I'll post more info/links to where when I have more info, dates and that sort of stuff.

I had a busy day, yesterday.

Russian Grocery:
Ya know, I never did bother to learn any Polish words from my grandpa, and I suppose I still could ask my mom what she remembers (the basics I remember... basics being anything that sounds vaguely like English, hehe, like how "Thank you" is Dzãkujã, which sounds sort of like "Jane-koo-ya"). Anyway, my apparent inability regarding all things Slavic was obvious today at the local Russian grocery store as I attempted to buy: Pirogies and Pumpernickel bread. I asked if they ever had Russian tea cups (they have a TON of tea at this place, and Samovars all over the place). I attempted to say "Podstakannik," which resulted in the lady at the counter calling over the other lady, them having a spirited discussion in Russian (the speech bubbles for which would look like this - "русский язык!!!!") which concluded with, eventually, one of them making a hand gesture to the other that looked like a tea cup, sort of, and then looking back at me and saying, "No, we don't have those." I snatched my debit card from her hands and bolted out the door, yelling "My peeps invented vodkaaaaaa!" as I jumped in my car and drove away (sort of).

The art supplies store:
Pearl Art Supplies (the nearest art supplies store to me) is a heaping pile of horse crap. You walk through there, and pick something up (often off of the floor) and think to yourself "ah, yes, I shall buy this!" and then remember that, despite the fact that you picked it up from the carpet, possibly dislodged it from between two racks, it will still cost its full retail price. I described the Pen/Calligraphy/Airbrush section to Lesley as feeling "like it should be having a 50% off sale, but isn't." Despite all this, their disorganization and sloppitude has lead to an interesting conundrum, for me. In the course of plowing through their bizarre collection of pens, I found a number of unexpected bits: J. Herbin ink (nice French fountain pen ink that I like a lot), and a Rotring pen that was discontinued about 2.5 years ago but has since become a hot ticket item. It's still new in the box. They haven't discovered this, yet, and the guy at the counter got it out of the back for me. Its still at its normal price. Of course, while I was there I didn't realize any of this, so I didn't buy it. I was hoping that, since its obviously been there for a really long time (I'm estimating 5 years), one day wouldn't make a difference. Its got a black hexagonal barrel with a smooth finish (that warms to your touch), its made of heavy steel and most people say it can survive nuclear attacks and possibly be used as a weapon in an emergency. As for me, I would call it "beefy." I can tell you that for sure because today, I returned and purchased it and even got a 10% off discount.


The movie theater:
So we braved the theater for a little Simpsons movie action. I enjoyed the film, yes. What I enjoyed even more, though, was a couple that walked into the theater. Understand, Les and I were literally the first people in there. We sat down, we waited. Just before the film started, a couple walked in with a stroller. The child in the stroller was already agitated in just the entry into the theater, so, of course, we had high hopes for shrieking and perhaps some "MOMMMMMYYYYYY"'s throughout the film. The lady... well, I'll just come out and say it... she was obese and not in a pleasant, friendly "Jolly" Santa way, no sirree, she was unpleasant. I don't really normally hate on folks who have the extra weight, but when they plunk down into the chair and whip out:

A.) Double Cheese Burger
B.) Onion Rings (with Ranch Dressing for increased health!)
C.) 44oz Cola

Well, I gotta say, I have little sympathy. OH, and she was feeding strips of the burger to her infant, forgot about that part. Ha ha! How did she and her gentleman manage to smuggle these items in to the theater? Granted, I wont criticize theater food smugglers... I descend from a long line of folks unwilling to pay for Butter-Lung inducing pop-shards and wickedly price pointed fruccy goodness. Today, we smuggled in two Ito-en teas and a package of "Panda" Licorice bites. Mmm. Not theater snacks. Even better Mmmm.

Anyway, returning to the burger people, when we left the theater, I glanced down at the floor where they had been sitting and the only thing that was left to indicate their presence in this place was: A single scrap of Bacon.

I saluted it like I salute the flag and sang as I left the theater...
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

A Book:
I purchased a book about writing, the other day. Normally I don't do this sort of thing, but I've noticed that I have been having a bit of trouble with my SF/Fantasy style stuff lately, for whatever reason, so I thought a bit of sage advice could help. Orson Scott Card's book on the topic looked interesting. And, so far it has been. I like that his advice is bluntly practical. I have a hearty amount of respect for him.

Lemon Curd vs. Jelly

Forget Jelly, Jam and assorted preserves. Lemon Curd is where its AT.

F'real.

Also:

If you keep writing tons of short stories, eventually you'll have enough to put a book out. As far as getting people to read it? Maybe if it's $3.00.

Snappy punch ups!

The other evening I slapped the notebook shut on a short story that was less short and less... well, story, I guess, than I wanted it to be. Especially when writing a short, if it gets out of control, I think the compulsion is to dump its ass off and forget you ever wrote it. Yet, I can't. Why is that? Duty? A need to finish what I start? No, the actual reason is that they're all in a notebook and I don't know how many pages to budget in case I want to finish it later. So practical. I considered finishing it and transcribing it, doing a bit of punch up work on it to get it to flow, or... change... something? But, on closer inspection, there was a thick layer of "horrible, poorly conceived 1950's horror movie acting" just below the pleasantly broiled "finished story" layer.

So, I just finished it and slapped the cover down on my notebook. It was a labor, my goodness gracious, and in the end it was just as unusable as I suspected it would be. I shamefully read it to my wife who confirmed with a half smile that the "wordplay was interesting" but when asked about the story, offered no comment.

I said, by way of suggestion, "It sucks worse than anything ever, doesn't it."
She blinked and offered, "Well, at least it's done."

She's right, of course... and after a little recharge time I can move on to the next project. Whew!

Even when I'm not actively engaged with the noveling action, keeping these shorts and flash pieces constant has kept me revved on the whole fiction writing side of things. Learning my own habits, my own work flow, my own methods of inspiration and organization and how they work and play together... its been interesting over the last few months. In the past work on projects came in bursts and I hadn't devised any clever methods of working on multiple things at once... instead I was shoving other ideas away after cataloging them in a text document, and forcing myself through other things, leaving these juicy ideas to sit and get stale. Stories are like bread in that sense. Granted, they need time to rise, but eat that shizzy while its still warm, dammit!

We started a writers group, here in town... its small, at the moment (less than 5 people), but its nice to be around other writers every few weeks. Around, I should say, other writers I respect for their constant writing in sub-genres. People who have something to say, who aren't writing just so they can call themselves "writers."

In other news, I bought another pen (and I recognize that this is quite possibly the most boring collection in the world next to "stamps of the world" so I'll clam up about it), I can walk pretty normally and I'm gonna go buy a new book tonight.

The sound of disposable pens being disposed of.

Personally, I experienced one fraction of a second of bliss upon completing the first draft of a book. It is immediately replaced, of course, by a huge crushing feeling of defeat in that I know I will soon be entrenched in editing all of the things I glazed over during the process of reaching this final point.

There's also the side issue of not having my "supposed to be working on" project - you know, the project you're procrastinating on so that all of the other projects you have on the table seem joyous and simple and ever-so-free-flowing? Yeah. I guess I'll have to make something else a priority, slack on that, and get back to writing what I was enjoying, again. Of course, the feeling that whatever I'm concentrating on will become a labor is probably a machination of my creativity drained brain.

The story I finished today landed with the most elegant belly flop I could muster for it. It stands at a whopping 32,000 words, approximately, barely a novella. Yet, that bothers me less than my own concerns over what, exactly, the story is that I've told, here. As with most things, it began with an idea and through the course of my compulsive typings, mutated into a wholly new creature to whom I had not been formally introduced. Standing back and taking a good hard look at the expanse of words I've slapped together, I cannot help but feel a tad concerned that I said not a single thing I intended to. Then again, had I any intentions? I can't honestly remember at this point.

It's a story, after all. A story, dammit! A story is supposed to mean something, even that something it means is ultimately nothing at all! Of course, I doubt I actually believe that.

Now, the fine question I ask myself each time I reach the end of the last line and slap "return."

"What on earth do I do with this?"

The heavy?

You know what I like?

"Witty Plastic Concept Toys, rationalizing the ease with which you abandon your dreams and a style of music called... 'twee pop' is it?"

Someone's been taking their nasty pills.

"Well, I had time to write them. Not doing much else. How about you, did you write today?"

I... not really, write, exactly. I wrote down some new ideas while I was at a stoplight, on the way to work... and I edited a short I wrote a few weeks ago.

"Ah, editing. Is that what you call it when you're too lazy to make an emotional investment in creating something that has the possibility of being imperfect?"

Well... no, I mean... I have to edit things, it's how I refine... anyway, what's your frickin' problem?

"Oh, nothing, nothing. So, tell me... what do you like?"

Ah... well, I was going to tell you about Utilitarian collections, but you're being kind of an asshole, so I think I'd rather not discuss it with you.

"That's cool, I'd probably just find a way to make you feel bad about spending money on a hobby when you're obviously unproductive."

Slow and steady, my friend.

"Slow and TV more like it."

I've been getting back into Star Trek, so freakin' sue me.

"Wonderful... Star Trek, collecting pens and old keyboards... bet you drink Belgian beer, too."

Delirium Tremens is pretty tasty but... what does that have to do with...

"You're not just a nerd anymore, man, you're about one step shy of being a shut-in coke bottle glasses ultra nerdy-dork-dorky-nerd-geek-goober-freak-trekkie. You should pre-buy a ticket for the Forklift ride. It will save time when they are all knocking a wall out of your bedroom to haul your ass to the hospital for your stomach staple."

Trekker is the preferred terminology, actually. Hey, that reminds me... do you remember that TV show "Nowhere man"? It was on the Sci Fi channel? I think he was pretending to be a pizza guy in one episode and had to, like, rescue some skinny hacker dork who was so addicted to bulletin boards that he never left his basement and was all emaciated and atrophied and wearing footie pajamas or something. Maybe it was porn he was all cracked out on, actually... I can't remember. Either way, he was shivering like a diabetic chihuahua and Nowhere Man had to help him shotgun a Capri Sun.

"I can't stand you."

Maybe your standards are too high?

"Maybe. Still wanna go to Borders later?"

Oh HELL yes. Books are sweet.

"Hells yes they are. Also, magazines."

Darn stories...

No one ever wants to pull the trigger on something they've spent months of their life on. At least, no one I know. Still, this morning when I fired up the 'ol word processor and read read the last thing I had written, I was struck by the fact that what I was creating was in no way what I wanted to create with this story. It had spun out of control. There are a number of reasons.

1.) Trying to constrain myself to a month in the writing of the initial draft
2.) Inattention across a number of phases in the creation of the story
3.) This was already my 2nd attempt at creating the characters, and while they were closer to what I had hoped, they were

The story has a disease. I feel no attachment to the characters - I can leave them right where they are right now and not feel bad about it because, in my eyes, they earned it for being selfish assholes. You hear me, ASSHOLES? Hehe.

It just needs a rewrite. Oh, I know I should power through, just finish the story and go back and fix huge wads of text after I have. Oh, and I probably will do that. I just don't relish the idea because I'm not as dedicated to the story idea as I was. Oh my, oh my, what a mess. That's why I feel free to go and work on whatever I want whenever I want. It's not like I owe these stories to anyone...

except myself...

(ooooooooooooooooooooo)

Also, ordered some new ink. This, of course, is related to my experiment with writing something by hand for the first draft. I'd say I'm rather enjoying it, despite my addiction to technology. And, I've had a shocking yet obvious realization: The ink goes faster when you're writing more. My fountain pen has been mostly used for writing notes and the occasional idea into my notebooks, so it was a little shock to change cartridges so quickly. I have a local source for the ink made by Lamy, but... still, rather than just relying on the manufacturer of my Pen's ink forever, decided to experiment with a few bottled inks and a refillable cartridge. Thus I ordered Noodler's Bulletproof Black and Marine Green inks. Also got some "Turquoise" Pelikan cartridges for the Missus. I guess it's OK, though not a color I'd want to live with for pages and pages. Too light.

If anyone is ever looking for good pens and good inks, Pendemonium definitely carries all of that stuff and has decent prices. We'll have to see how quickly it arrives after they've shipped it, but thus far I've been impressed with them, to the level that I'm already planning a second order.

Hey, look at that!

I got a new pen.

"WELL HEY, THATS FABULOUS!"

Yes. It is.

"So, like, what is it... a bic?"

No. Um.

"Scripto? Pilot Dr. Grip?"

No and no...

"Then... uh..."

Listen, never mind, alright.

"What, are you too good for disposable pens?"

No, that's not it... I just like nice pens.

"A Dr. Grip is nice!"

No it's not. I bought one and the first time I refilled it the refill exploded. That was shocking considering it's just a stick that you put inside the case with no moving parts. Also, the grip pad yellows after about two weeks.

"They look nice."

Yes, true. So it seems a Dr. Grip is mainly nice when you don't use it.

"Now you're being a jerk."

Sorry. Want to hear about my pen?

"Fine."

Thanks. It's a Lamy Tipo roller ball.

"What is that, French?"

German.

"What's so great about it?"

Well... thick, smooth lines, dependable quality refills which are widely available, lifetime guarantee, $7.50 flat charge to refurb the pen should it become defective, etc.

"Sounds expensive."

Some are. This one was $10.

"Huh. For one pen."

Think of it as a 'writing partner.'

"Thanks, I'd rather not."

They make nice gifts.

"Don't get me one, OK?"

If you say so.

Handwritten.

I was thinking about writing the next thing I write with a pen and paper. This is a massively inefficient habit I have struggled to break over my life (hence the obsession with nifty organizational word processors like Scrivener). When I was younger, the stuff I would write was neat for a twerp (ah to be 17 and grammatically correct) but I just wouldn't ever put it down to word processor. The pages would permanently occupy a three-ring binder in their sloppy entirety. One of my teachers (art teacher, though he had much more faith in my written work than paintings... and he was right, as it turns out) always asked why I never bothered to type things up. Since my handwriting was so bad, he would never read it unless I typed it up. So, anyway, the point is that this is, perhaps, a backwards step for me but I want to give it a try. Something about the pacing of handwriting that could maybe allow thoughts to form more fully in the space of a sentence.

I have decent notebooks, I have a nice pen (I'm a big fan of Lamy fountain pens)... it's probably worth a shot. So many writers I respect do things in this method, after all. And, there's a possibly unintended benefit: In the transcription process, taking the sloppily written hash from pad to screen I tend to do a little self editing to correct the flow and pace and terminology. In that way, the first draft that lives in a computer tends to be a bit more polished, which is nice.

Some strategies to make the handwriting thing work out:
- Must must MUST break things into planned chapter spacing, ie determining what will happen within the space of a chapter and restricting myself to those topics (otherwise it could get out of hand and out of control).
- Must keep things well organized
- Must do my best to spell and write not-sloppy... because sometimes even I can't decipher my "chicken scratch."

Article on JPG Magazine site.

I wrote an article to submit to the JPG Magazine site. Not sure if it'll make it to publication in the actual magazine, but if you want to read it anyway, here's a link:

http://www.jpgmag.com/stories/585

On our recent holiday, Lesley shot most of the pictures with a few "Toy" cameras. In the process of doing so we saw a number of advantages to using them and thought it'd be a good topic for an article of this nature. I've been picking away at between other projects. Anyway, it's there to be read. Enjoy. Also, if you're a jpgmagazine.com member, you can vote on it (I'm not sure if positive votes means its more likely to make it to print, but right on). Thanks if you are/do.

In other news, every time someone has asked me how my leg is I've been answering "still broken." Is that mean? I hope not, I think it's kind of funny.

Challenges! Rar!

It has been a most challenging few weeks for me. After our trip overseas, the film festival the next week and a busy work and school schedule, amidst an especially busy week of training, I had my leg broken for me. I would say, had the circumstances been different that I "broke my leg," but the way it happened I feel the only accurate description is that it was broken for me. How? Sloppy, clumsy tackle against me on the football (soccer) pitch. Am I bitter? Trying hard not to be. Positive vibes help so much in the process. Am I in pain? Yep, especially when I get into a negative mood, which has been a little more frequently as the days restricted as to what I can do drag on. I've given up on TV, finished the book I was reading, so all that is left is internet multiplayer Mah Jong or Chess and simply doing my best to get some writing projects looked at and touched up.

Between the meds, pain and stationary limitations, I've been pretty out of sorts but I have managed to plunk a new draft of an article together (one more draft tomorrow morning and it should be in it's final phase), get a sizable chunk of a chapter in my book written, and feel pretty confident about where other projects were headed. The chapter was especially important because I've been in a pretty big stall with that story for quite some time now, so much so that I took some time off to work on other things (the short I finished a bit ago). How I got through the sticky part was with a liberal smearing of weird. That's the best way to defuse any tough plot point in anything, let the strangeness of your own mind guide you through the perhaps unlikely yet compellingly strange plot devices you dream/imagine between dozing/waking. Thanks subconscious! I own ya' another one.

moments of horror!!!

You know that moment of horror when you see your cup of drinking water tipping haphazardly toward that favorite piece of electronic gadgetry? Exhilarating, but only when the momentary toppling is averted. In this case, it was. Regardless, though, it reminded me that soon I will be having to replace my aging laptop. Ol' Beleraphon (yes, I still name my computers after Greek and Roman mythological figures, shameful). We've had some times, this laptop and me. It's travelled with me to multiple countries, across this land, has been a partner in creating oh so many wonderful things. It's small, relatively light and usually up for whatever. What else could I ask for in a laptop? Well, I mean, it is a little slow these days. Slow as in when I type, the words lag behind my actual typing. This does not work.

So, as mentioned, the time is approaching when I will head on down to the ol' Apple store and pick up a new machine. I think I'm leaning pretty heavily toward the Black Macbook. It should do the trick, and it's not terribly expensive.

It's an exciting time at the moment. I just returned from a trip overseas (it was jolly), it's the week of the local film festival, it's educator savings week at the bookstore and the days have been decently pleasant, if not dry and pollen filled. Trip photos, interesting films, books and decent, non scorching weather - a few of my favorite things.

Lately I've been reading books that were clearly intended for children. Part of me feels silly doing so, but the writing (in these particular books) is very concise without being drab, and is free of excessive adverbs, something I've been struggling with lately (overuse). After I finish this particular book (OK, let me just admit what it is, the 2nd Artemis Fowl book, Eoin Colfer, you're great) I should probably dig into the stockpile of books I've picked up and haven't had time to really dig into. Lets see, now, there's the interlinear translation of Canterbury Tales which I've picked at (I suppose that's what I'm destined to keep doing with that), a book written by one of my English teachers from years back, a book written by my cousin, "Through A Glass Darkly,' by Karleen Koen, "The Last Kingdom" by Bernard Cornwell (saw ads for his newest book "The Northern Lords" all over the train stations in the UK, decided to give the series a shot), and, like 20 books in my eReader which I've been putting off reading. Ehh, that's a stack. It's a good thing I enjoy reading, I suppose.

Next nagging writing habit to work on: Needless Contractions, Capitalization and Commas.

The Triumph of Burning Blue and the Toner Catridge Failure Spree

(subject has nothing to do with this post, though it is striking... mm, yes).

I have been wondering for the past few days about how many drafts one should realy write of a short story.

"As many as need to be written!" says the voice from the back of the gallery. Well, to you voice, I say "Thanks for the non-answer, ass," and then I hurl an eraser, because the place I'm imagining myself posing such a question is quickly becoming an old style classroom with chalkboards and everything. And, that eraser finds its target, thank you very much!

Anyway, I'm on draft three of my current little thing, holding the draft in my hands, and considering, still, making more changes. Small ones, this time, narrow changes vs. the wide ones I've made from each other draft up until this point. I'm just wondering, though... are four drafts needed on a 15 page short, or did I just really have to do a serious routing on this one, scoring out the crap that must've been so deep in the first draft.

It is different with short stories, though. Where as I can zip through the entirety of this story in a few minutes, doing this on one of my longer works has to be done on a chapter by chapter basis. The short presents immediate issues, the longer format story may have fundamental, deep seated issues, but they may not become clear until much later in the story. Sometimes, there, you lose a sense of voice from previous chapters when you narrow your focus so much, but it's the only practical way I've found to self edit. Even this thing, as short as it is, is shoehorned into four small sections in my word processor (ah, the scriv).

Ok, it's getting late... I'd better re-read this draft one more time, fix stuff and print one more copy of this thing, then go sleep. I'd like this sucker to be in the mail by monday morning... which I hope isn't an unreasonable goal.

Well, this is fairly interesting...

http://books.google.com/

Hmmmmmmmm. HMMMMMMMMMMMM.

Yes, alright. I suppose that means the eBook era is officially "on".

Personally, I'm currently:

Reading a book by Sharon Kay Penman (which is deceptively long and sweeping)
Bouncing between OCD Edits on a short vs. picking at a novel, starting a new novel, etc.

Here's an excerpt:

"Damnit... there was something I was going to tell you."

These words are sledgehammers

Every time I edit anything, I feel like I'm slapping it around... which is fine, because most of the time I edit my own stuff, and most of the time it needs a good slapping-around.

As I'm looking over this short story, taking stock of the "edits" I've been scrawling all over a quickly formatted print out, I'm noticing there are more notes than actual story. I'm left wondering, while I look at this, if I was actually thinking about what I was writing while crafting this particular piece... ?

That's probably what they tell you to do in creative writing classes (though, I wouldn't know, I've never taken one, though I fully intend to one of these semesters)... get a shell first, and go in and poke around with the fine bits afterward. I suppose that makes sense.

So, recently I finally decided on a brand of mechanical pencils to utilize. This may sound like a bizarre sort of thing to make a decision on, but believe me, it's important. I used to just buy whatever was on sale, inexpensive, or convenient... but the last few batches I've purchased have had various problems. For instance, one set had massively gummy erasers that lasted only a few uses, and were made of such a weak plastic that if you actually erased something with a bit of emotion behind it (as I'm prone to do), the chassis would physically shatter. That will not do! Another brand was a bit more expensive, but had replaceable parts, like the two pencils in the pack came with extra erasers, extra lead, all packaged nicely in a little portable carrier. Unfortunately, these pencils are prone to jamming, and the slightest jarring of the pencils (for instance, carrying them in a backpack, holding them, thinking about them fondly) causes the lead to shatter into no less than 27,000 pieces. When you advance the lead, then, it dribbles out in micro shards which are completely useless for writing.

What did I go with? Papermate Sharpwriter #2, the sort with a twist-action lead advancer. The major malfunction these have is that their clip for attaching tends to snap after two uses, but since a pencil clipped tends to be a pencil lost, I've chosen to ignore this design flaw... in every other aspect, these seem to be superior. A fine product, paper<3<3mate!

Also, my music listening habits continue to lean toward very wussy electronic music... ah the joys of learning to appreciate little intricacies.

Twas brillig and the slivy toves? Nah.

I would love for someone to explain to me my recent fascination with tracing the roots of English words, looking for forceful language and attempting to read Old English, learn its rules and mechanics. It's effective, this language of which I speak... guttural, at times, filled with threatening undertones, hints of earthen power and wholeness. It does not dance like Latin, it is blunt like a Saxon club. It's a comfort language in the way that mac 'n cheese is a comfort food. It's alien to the modern English speaker when written, yet when spoken we hear words we understand, ideas that form, a pattern that emerges. It has been an interesting experiences, learning the basics.

I suppose I've just explained it to myself. Ah musings.

So, Scrivener 1.0, the writing software I've been beta-testing/using the free version of, has been released. I purchased it, and have been loving it. The note-carding and organizational system is still fully exciting and useful, and as I learn of some of the features in this newest version I titter with joy.

I've been plodding through a short story in preparation for some things I've got in the writing cache, ready to roll out. This short is pretty good, I think. I'm not usually very good at making cohesive short stories, usually at just taking snapshots of what could be a larger story and reducing it to one scene... normally, I imagine anyone reading a short I put together would feel like this world was fully formed when they arrived into it, and perhaps they've arrived just in the middle of a conversation. I guess it's not so bad. I could just attribute it to my own "style," but I'm terribly concerned that it might just be attributed to an inability to write shorts.

I've just realized, it's February already... heavens. We've had a busy year already, what with art exhibitions for the misses, school and work for myself, preparing for our journey in a month and a half. I think waiting for this trip has made the first month of this year zip by a little quickly. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited about it. I hate to think of myself as a nerdy culture-hungry vacation worshiper, and I'm not, I don't think... but I have the taste for travel right now (well, sort of, I hate driving distances, and flying is no treat for me, for that matter).

On Finishing?

Finishing anything you're working on is a bittersweet experience... on one hand you experience the relief of having it down, excitement of holding it, on paper, in your hand, still warm from the laser printer. But, then, there's the realization that it is, in fact, over, and the self criticism kicks in and the realization that it's much different in execution than you imagined it in conceptualization.

Of course, this is all part of the process... and it doesn't need to be soul crushing, as an experience.

I'm thinking about it because I finished a screenplay that I'd been working on for a while (just last night). I went through the range of emotions. It was... emotional.

I need to put it away for a while because I'm rather angry at it right now for being done. I'm sure I'll get over it, of course... eventually.