Sunday Evenings

Days like this seem to contain all that same vast emptiness of fall Sundays before school would begin again on the Monday. That loneliness – the hollow, aching sickness of knowing that no matter how beautiful and calm things were just then, something bad was coming. And of course things weren’t beautiful and calm – not really. Sunday evenings were torture in my house, and even if he wasn’t home, or hadn’t started drinking yet, we knew what lay in wait for us. I think now that he must have had the same sickness of knowing that I have on Sundays. That he passed it on to me in lieu of a love of drinking. That he dreaded the work day, the week to come and he drank and destroyed us inadvertently. Just the collateral damage caused by the way we make ourselves live in the world. He was a victim, and we were double victims, and now I victimize myself by falling prey to the doldrums on these beautiful days. The beauty only passing, the week coming sure and slow and steady, creeping up to sink its teeth into my soul.

Protected: Conversations with Lune

Birdmad Girl

This girl has got a smile that can make me cry.

She flies outside this cage
Singing girl-mad words
I keep her dark thoughts deep inside
As black as stone
And mad as birds

This is based on the main character of my second NaNo novel, and the photography I did last week in Benton Park.

Had to do a little day-to-night action on the BG photo, but I am very pleased with it. Click here for full size (it’s worth it, much better at 1200px wide)

Also at Rendo for those who hang there.

So what have you learned, Dorothy?

So NaNo is over for another year. At the risk of sounding overly proud of myself (I am!) or preachy (I’m not!) this whole post is about lessons learned during this process and personal growth and stuff, so be warned.

During the process of NaNoWriMo, you learn a lot. You obviously learn about your own novel and you learn about writing in general, but you also learn a lot about yourself – as a person and a writer. What you’re capable of, your best working patterns, your hidden feelings about things which suddenly become glaringly obvious when they’re words on a screen instead of amorphous attitudes floating around in your head.

So first, you learn about these bizarre characters you have created, and what they’re up to. You learn how they talk to each other and how their world works. Some of it feels like it’s under your control, but a lot of it feels like it really isn’t. I honestly don’t know that I make things the way they are in my writing, they just are that way and I chronicle them.

Last year I had what I thought was a much stronger basis for my first novel: a cool original character, a universe to put her in, some antagonists for her to deal with, some things for her to figure out. This year I had no earthly idea what I was going to be doing, I only knew who my main character was. For a while I was sure that there wasn’t even a story there. I didn’t know what the hell this chick was doing in town. When I finally figured out why she was here I was as surprised as anyone else might have been. Continue reading »

Wait, did I miss November somehow?

I can’t believe how this month has passed. All in a hazy swirl of neon lights and a big fat cloud of cigarette smoke. It’s been all words, drinks and drama. It was October when Jake originally got sick, because I was home for Halloween, remember? How is it possible that I’ve been compulsively checking him for red spots for more than a month? He seems to be doing well on these medications, and I will take him in soon for more blood work. Not too soon, though. I am tired of them jabbing him.

I took off every Friday in November to give me more time to get my NaNo book written, and it really helped. I finished NaNo a day early, and will post more on that later. It was amazing, and I can’t believe I did it. So I am glad I took the time off. I also needed this break from work, and I needed to be able to look forward to not being in the office one day a week. This month it has seemed more like work is just something I have to do sometimes rather than the All Encompassing, Never Ending Badness That Rules My Waking World.

And now it’s December. Well, tomorrow it will be. Holidays, festivity, snow. I have to work THREE WHOLE WEEKS in a row with no days off except weekends! Eeek! But then I get a nice chunk of time off work, almost two full weeks. So that’s much to look forward to.

The house… well, I am continually challenged by the perils of home ownership. This time coming to me in the form of a malfunctioning water heater. I loathe dealing with things like this. The interminable phone calls, the arguing with people who don’t speak English, the waiting for repair people, the phone calls back to India, the arguing, the realizing it’s still not working even though the guy just left and swore it was fine. The having to shower at your friend’s place. The feeling that if only you were somewhat smarter you could sort this out. The feeling that you’re the only person in the wold this kind of thing happens to.  Bah to all of it. And when this gets sorted out it’s just going to be something else, some other broken down malfunctioning thing. It wears on me, wears me out. I am trying to just breathe deeply and deal with it as it happens, but it’s hard.

One day I am going to learn to roll with the punches, but you know better than to think today’s that day.

Anyway, that’s all for this month. I blinked and I missed it. But if I recall correctly, it was a lot of fun.

Gearing Up for a Lazy Saturday

We’re coming down the home stretch of NaNo, and I feel pretty comfortable with where I am. About 33k words. I hope to have 40k in by the end of the weekend, which shouldn’t be too hard to do. I have cleverly arranged things so that I don’t have to leave the house today if I don’t want to, so I should be able to get some decent work done.

Had to take Jake back to the vet yesterday, it was almost time for his bloodwork and I noticed some spots on his stomach that I suspected might be petechia again. It’s hard to tell because they’re basically just red dots & blotches, so any scrape he gets might look like that. The vet said better safe than sorry, given the condition he’s got, so they went ahead and moved his bloodwork up by a few days. Called this morning and his white blood cells and platelets are slightly elevated. This is actually good, because it must mean that his body is making some of its own platelets by now. I am still waiting for the results of the clotting factor test, but since these marks on his stomach haven’t spread I am hopeful that they’re just scrapes or something.

Anyway, that’s all for me. I am still waiting on news from MyTodd™ about some kind of fracas at his after-hours last night. Apparently there was an ambulance involved. I am glad I went home straight from the bar, his after-hours parties scare me.

Looking forward to NaNo being done and really doing a lot of reading in December. Instead of writing goals, I think I may set myself reading goals next month. People have suggested a lot of their favorite 1st person works of fiction to me, but if you have more please shoot them my way.

In the Mouth of NaNoWriMo Madness

So not much to say, or time to say it. I took these pictures of Jakester tonight. As a result of my spoiling him he’s become uber-clingy and wants to be held all the time. Or stuck in my sports bra to kind of lounge across my chest in the mornings. Anyway, they’re blurry and badly lit and I really like them anyway.

Really Random, Because My Brain Refuses to Work

Snagged this screen cap from a video my cousin made a while ago. This is me with my brother and two of my cousins. I don’t remember where we were, or why we’re posing in a covered wagon, but what I think is interesting is how we’re posing.

Observe my younger cousin on the left side of the image, looking at the camera. Observe my older cousin on the right side of the image, looking at the camera. Observe me and my brother in the middle, not only not looking at the camera, but not even being distracted in the same direction. There’s some kind of grander statement about our personalities there, but I don’t have the brainpower to make it right now.

Also, I think my NaNoWriMo book might be about an entirely different character than I intended. Which is weird, but also how it’s forming itself as I ponder it.

That’s it for Thurssday randomosity for now.

Oh lord, it’s so hard
it’s so hard when you’re living in the devil’s playground
in the devil’s playground

There’s some man that is starting a war and I feel like we’re knocking on heaven’s door
You better let me in
I wanna get in

Gram Rabbit – Devil’s Playground

NaNoWriMo – To Write or not to Write?

I posted this over in the forums at NaNoWriMo HQ, but I’d love the opinions of those of you who read my blog as well. You’re all creative types. What do you think?

Last year was my first year participating in NaNoWriMo. I had a crazy-insane wild ride and I did win by getting to 50k words. I got the complete structure of my novel down so I have a beginning, middle and end to my story, I just needed to do more research and rewrites. (“Just” probably needs to be in quotes there.)

Right after November I had a major trauma at work, broke a bone, got really sick and then proceeded to have an utterly crap year. Last year’s novel is therefore not completed. I am still working on it whenever I can. I understand that this is not National Novel Editing Month, so I shouldn’t use it to work on an old piece.

I’d always planned a sequel to last year’s story. That was bopping around in my head even as the first book took shape, so I am considering writing that this year – but I hesitate because last year’s novel isn’t finished and shiny-pretty with a beautiful bow on top. Since I am new to this, I need advice.

On the one hand, writing the sequel may help me to refine the original. On the other hand… what? Will writing something new before the old thing is totally put to bed destroy the creative process on the first piece? I have a situation this year in which I can take significant time off work to devote to writing in November, and I hate to pass up a year of participation just because I haven’t finalized my last work.

So, for those of you who’ve been doing this for a while, what is the best course of action? To write or not to write?

Dirtiest Mad Lib Plath Poem

moist button’s moist button

“I lick my buttons and all the button licks button;
I lick my buttons and all is lick again.
(I lick I lick you up inside my button.)

The buttons go licking out in moist and moist,
And moist button licks in:
I lick my button and all the button licks button.

I licked that you licked me into button
And lick me moist, licked me quite moist.
(I lick I lick you up inside my button.)

button licks from the button, button’s buttons lick:
lick button and button’s button:
I lick my button and all the button licks button.

I licked you’d lick the way you lick,
But I lick moist and I lick your button.
(I lick I lick you up inside my button.)

I should have licked a button instead;
At least when button licks they lick back again.
I lick my button and all the button licks button.

(I lick I lick you up inside my button.)

- Susan & Sylvia Plath

Create Your Own Madlib on LanguageIsAVirus.com

Langauge is a Virus – Poetry Generator

Poetry Generator

Was reading last year’s October posts and found this. Still just as good this year. Even better maybe.

All angry over the spirits

All angry under the bullshit
I cavort with dazzling spells among the clouds
Be aware! The sin was good
So sensuous within the fire
We sense luminous vapors before the fire
Awaken, awaken! The passion must continue
All angry over the spirits
You expel yellow flames among the ground
Heavy! The birth has died
translucent thirsty
across the water
empty hands
How many times
the foreigner
come singing
before help could come

Sunday Feeling on Monday

Despite a pretty robust (3/4) lifescore today, and (what is for me) hyper-sociability for the last three days, I am still pretty melancholy today, without really knowing why. I’ve been around people, I’ve been to parties, I’ve been to bars, I’ve been writing, I’ve got laundry done and dishes done and house clean. I don’t know what my fecking problem is, really.

I can say that the editing and revision of a novel is much more tedious and time-consuming than the actual first-draft writing of a novel. Very stop and go, very “crap, does that make any sense with what I said three chapters before?” and stuff like that.

What’s funny is that as I was writing the first draft I made little notes to myself, “research blah-blah, look up the date that such and such happened, find out about xyz” Well today, sitting at the gelateria and writing with Todd doing homework next to me I ran into a psychiatric/medical question that I had noted “ask Todd the correct psych diagnosis for this disorder.” So I was able to stop what I was doing and ask him, and that was an interesting discussion.

For each of the main characters in the book I’ve created play lists. “What would be on their iPod” kind of stuff and also songs that I feel capture parts of their personalities. Maybe part of my issue today is that my main character is kind of depressive and feels out of control and helpless. I’ve been listening to her play list all day to get me in the frame of mind to write her and that’s probably having an effect. I’ve switched over to a more hell-raising character’s list, which may perk me up.

Also, the “delete” key on my new laptop’s keyboard is in the place where the “backspace” key was on my old one. That fucks me up because I am a big back-spacer. That’s irritating, and instead of blaming the keyboard and my finger-memory, I blame myself for being stupid, every time I do it.

Lastly, the gelateria guy asked Todd if I was his wife. Why that should be so funny to me, I don’t know. I suppose most people who don’t know us assume that we’re a couple. But it made me laugh anyway.

The Toilet

She burst into the bathroom, catching me mid-wipe. “Sorry! Sorry! Oh God, I am so sorry.” She kept muttering as she bent over the toilet, stomach heaving but nothing emerging. I didn’t care.

I’d long ago learned that at this particular bar the plan of attack was to always wear skirts, not pants. When you finally had to break the seal they kept your lady parts covered -even if the communal area got invaded. This skirt was both long and full and gave me the approximate level of coverage an actual stall door might have provided, so I didn’t mind if a marching band wanted to wander through. I finished up and flushed, then moved to wash my hands.

“I just… I am trying not to throw up!” She added, unnecessarily. She stood up and looked at me then. Fat tears gleamed in her eyes, threatening to spill. I was utterly unmoved.

“Make sure to breathe.” I advised, in a poor approximation of a person who might care.

“Oh, it’s way past breathing!” she exclaimed, as I squirted liquid soap on my hands.

I pondered what the actual state would be of a person who was “past breathing.” Arriving at “dead” I assumed she was only being dramatic.

“Look! I burned my finger.” She shoved her hand in my direction.

“Mmmm.” was the most sympathetic noise I could dredge. I reached for paper towels to dry my hands.

“And I am not even a smoker, really!” This was the last, plaintive cry upon which I firmly shut the bathroom door. I hate drunk girls.

In which we all gaze at my navel

Breathe through it
write a list
of desires

Make a toast
make a wish
slash some tires

Paint a heart repeating, beating
“don’t give up, don’t give up.”

- The Weepies, Not Your Year

I guess I am pretty introspective at the moment. I am not really trying to be, but to be honest I haven’t really tried to be anything at all for the last eight months, except alive.

Last summer when my Mom got better after being so sick, I swore that nothing non-fatal would ever seem serious to me again. And that really lasted for a while. I did my best to embrace life, to forge new connections, to be happy. Things were going well at work, at home, in my personal life. It was exciting and new and fun. But there’s no accounting for fate, what will happen and how/whether we will be able to accept it. If I had known at this time last year what the following year would be like… I think I would have just given up on it, quit my job and gone to live on the beach somewhere. And I would have hucked sharp rocks at anyone who tried to get within 30 feet of me.

Maybe the only reason we don’t get to see into the future is that none of us would choose to live it if we saw it coming. It was hard enough to live through this year once, I would never choose to do it again.

Life is seeming better right now. The summer, full of sun and flowers, is in front of me. I am off for vacation next week and will have the chance to finish my Savannah research for CWaCS. That means a hell of a lot to me. Not just the getting out of town aspect, but the “finishing something I challenged myself to do” aspect, too. Things at work are absolutely dismal, but dismal is four-and-a-half steps up from where they were in March. I finally got a diagnosis for WTF my problem is (again I remind you that it’s not mental – I don’t CARE what it seems like to you). I can walk (almost) normally again, with little pain on most days, although my foot has a tendency to swell up all crazy-like if I sit too long, and I feel like someone’s dead grandma when I take my first few steps each morning. But I can get out and about, I am not trapped in the house for day after endless, depressing, repetitive, gray day. I am back to where I was last year at this time – a state of “OK, OK this isn’t as bad as all that. I can do this. I really think I can do this.”

Hopeful, I think we call that.

And I am trying to look forward rather than back. Trying hard.

But by nature I like (love? need?) to dwell on things, pick them apart, put them back together until I really see how they work – and I am in that phase now. Maybe I need that phase right now. To be honest, I had enough on my plate just trying to stay alive this winter. I didn’t have time or energy to ponder, understand or learn. Just moving my exhausted, broken carcass from place to place and doing the basics needed to survive – that took every ounce of will I had, and then a few. So now that I have some energy to spare, some time on my hands, some new internal strength reserves from which to draw, I am in full-on wonder mode. If it bores you, there are many,many porn sites within a few clicks of here, knock yourself out.

What I am dwelling on right now is the fact that I seem to keep learning the same lessons over and over. And each time they seem so shiny-new, and I think “How did I not know that before?” and then I read something I wrote a long time ago, or re-read something I underlined in a book a long time ago and I realize that I DID know that before, I just didn’t know it THIS MUCH.

My wise, beloved, former therapist once told me that you need to learn the same things over and over in life. You can know something on Monday and know it on a different level on Wednesday. Friday you can know it ten times more. A year from Friday and you know it in a new way, about a new thing. Understanding comes in layers, you rarely get to bottom.

I haven’t gotten to the bottom of any of my own lessons yet, I suspect. Right now I am working on three things.

This summer I am going to:

1) Let the past fall away
2) Dare
3) Stop trying to fix things which are irreparably broken

It’s that last one I anticipate trouble with. I am nothing if not tenacious. I hate to accept broken as a diagnosis – for situations or people. I know that I need to, but I suspect I am going to spend most of my life relearning that particular lesson.

Dabblers, Dabble.

Trying to pleasantly waste my free time in between baking cupcakes and freezing to death. This is another scene from CWaCS, toward the end of the novel. Yumi is discovering something she never wanted to know. This is also the first thing I’ve done with her as a more normal looking person, while still (hopefully) maintaining the graphic style of the other pieces.

The character is exactly the same, but the hairstyle and clothing style have changed.

I couldn’t find any good interior wall shots (growth market, anyone… anyone…?) so I cobbled this together from some furniture in my runtime and images from one of DAZ’s “Dark Designs” packs. I was pleased with the result. I am not going to bother to post this anywhere other than here, as it makes no sense to anyone but… me really – and then only as part of a larger series. Anyway – hope you enjoy.