Thursday, September 11, 2014

New Plan

I lied. Again.

I don't really have Vampire Girl in me anymore.
However...I do have this little story about aliens and a little girl named Bill.
Really I've just been so tired. Work is tiring. Not being able to finish consolidating my work is tiring. Exercise is tiring. Making dinner is tiring.

Life. Is. Tiring.

I just figured this out. I guess being an unemployed, emotionally unstable hermit would make me not so much an expert on all things that involve daily interactions with people.
Work's not so bad really, at least not the social interactions since you don't actually have to do very much with people. Work goes more smoothly when you pretend other people aren't there, except the people you talk to to keep yourself sane.

On another note, I mildly poisoned myself with a vitamin supplement. Not Iron, thankfully. I know better than that, but something else. I'm not telling what. The very fact that I was so stupid is a little painful to admit. I am pretty used to doing stupid shit by now, though. Sometimes I'm just not there and sometimes the little timed injections of necessary chemicals that my body gives from it's little bulbous glands aren't very well regulated.

I don't think a lot of people read very well. I think reading comprehension is lower than it should be. I'd say it was a bad school system if I was a certain kind of person. I'd say they're poor and dumb if I was another and I'd say their parents just don't teach them stuff when they're little if I was the third kind. What I really think is something else. I think people don't feel they have to and that's the fault of everything.

There's the answer. Everything is Fucked.

No. Not really. There's always going to be some crap that ain't gonna straighten out without a crowbar and a whole ton of pressure and/or heat. The world still functions.
A few to many things are skewed though and there aren't enough people with crowbars.

So, new plan. I try to write a bit on the story that I just barely have a plan for and see where it goes from there. Updates will be sporadic but I can promise, at the very least, once a month.

You should keep expectations low for this one. What I do produce should be pretty extra special but quantity will be extremely varied.

Have fun with life. I do. That's why I'm currently interested in Belly Dance! It's wonderfulllllllllllllllll.

Friday, July 25, 2014

Wordy Day, Control

Do you ever feel like everybody is staring at you? In my case, I think it's true.
I do stare at people I'm vaguely interested in, though. Perhaps they got it from me. That doesn't explain everybody else.

You ever feel tired, even when you've gotten a lot of sleep? I do. I think I still need to make up about a week's worth of sleep.
I would really like it if I could write much again. I don't feel much. I think my synapses are fried, or frozen. I have been getting really outbursty. That might suggest that with the improved sleep I've been getting the synapses are thawing out and being very cranky about it.

I am just so tired of the fact that most people I know really don't much care what I do.
It's disconcerting for someone who came from a somewhat neglectful background.
I don't like it.
Even though I am used to it.
I do have people who care about me but they just don't do it the way I want them to.
My characters don't do things the way I want them to either.
It's almost as if....
As if I am not in complete control.
I don't like it at all.
If I'm not in control, then things can happen.
Bad things
Bad, bad things
Even good things can be bad if you don't know they're coming.
Anxiety reigns
Chaos is just another word for the world's fondness for disturbing a train of thought. (Guess who was just interrupted? :)

(Edit. I read a depression book. I'll tell you if it takes. It's all common sense stuff but the examples really helped me gain perspective which is something just relying on common sense does not do.)

Might be a bit better.
We'll see.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Announcing, VAMPIRE GIRL!

Do you know that I once wrote a story about an insane vampire, who looked like a child, and was obsessed with a character? Imagine that. It's never been done before, right? Well, she's special. She had good quirks. I'm good at quirks.

Did you know that the insane vampire was part of a book that was about a slightly more sane vampire who worked in a shitty fast food joint and then ran off when a vampire showed interest in her? She's weiiiiiird. She's also not really a vampire. Maybe I shouldn't have said that, but really, the book was okay, I think. I liked it, but I don't think there's anything wrong with just posting the bits and pieces I have here and perhaps sticking them together with a bit of particularly gluey prose.

This is the introduction of the beginning of my posting of ;Vampire Girl! (Because I had no knack with titles, still don't, really)

There might be some alternate versions that get posted alongside the originals. I was in high school. What sounded coooool then is more obviously a bit cliche now.

So, I hope you'll enjoy Vampire Girl

It will start being released beginning of August, after I sort through eighty files with similar titles. (I do that.) and have something to show for it. Hopefully my memory is right and there's more than a couple of tea stained sheets of paper with doodles on them.


Vampire Girl, The First

So here's the beginning I started with, more or less. Note the somewhat stilted narrative. 

The vampire was more ravenous than she had ever been. The hunger ate its way through her stomach and up her trachea as if what blood still in her had become acid and was melting her body to find a way out.
She bit, fed and soon after loathed herself for her weakness.

She was in a small room with soft colors and a little white dresser. In the corner was a red, race car bed. The air smelled of citrus fabric softener and baby powder. Neither was enough to cover up the meaty tang which soaked the air. In her arms lay a little body dressed in pajamas and with his limp head resting against her chest so that as she moved his wispy blond hair fluttered. The little planes on his pajama shirt were flying in a red sky. She could see that lower down the sky was blue. The red was his blood, still dripping from his neck.

She ripped a bit of blanket off and pressed it up against his neck. There was still time to fix this. She concentrated and began to rub.  

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Wordy Day, Writer's Self Disgust

(This shoulda been published a while ago. I schedule posts and they just don't happen. Really, to the right of this one is Schedule 6/4/14 5:00 AM Central Daylight Time. Was is published? Did you see it? No.) 

Underneath the heavy boughs of the apple tree, the cat lay, Because the sun dappled shadows shifted and danced with every gentle gust, a casual observer would not have seen the small dark orb the rested against the cat and would have been quite startled when, moments after the cat stretched, the little toad leaned back and stretched out webbed feet, using the cat as a furry recliner. It must have been comfortable for the toad let out a quiet noise almost like a purr, if toads could make such a noise. 

Maryjane reread the page, her expression slack horror. She slammed her pen on the desk. This was horrible! A frog and a cat basking in the shade. What the hell was she thinking? Who did this appeal to. Who would read a story with such an introduction? She wouldn't. "It fucking sucks, is what it does." growled Maryjane. She couldn't write anymore, she hated every single word and she tried to ignore it but it got harder and harder. It was just bad and no amount of pretending it wasn't would make it any better. She picked up her notebook and closed it with the pen inside and then flung it right across the room. Pages fluttered as if the thing was distressed as it sailed across the living room in a great big arc and thwapped against pale yellow wall then slid to the floor. Maryjane jumped at the noise but refused to think she'd overreacted. She was pissed! The world suuuuuuuuuucked.

Sunday, June 1, 2014


So, I lied.

There's no book.

There might be a book,

if I can get over my hangups and hold a keyboard without pain.
I have a job where I spend a lot of time using a keyboard and mouse. Seems every week I manage to injure myself. Mouse arm. Fiery shoulder pain. A back that crackles like a cheap fire cracker. No carpel tunnel yet but, fingers crossed.

I willingly admit that I was overly optimistic. I have a lot of things to do, including move. Somewhere in the middle of things to do is getting over my expectations for the book and actually changing it until it's really good. It doesn't help that beta readers, in my case at least, often shirk their duties.

On the plus side, I will be going to college, at least a bit. I need to talk to a councilor to be sure.
I'm also moving,
and training a cat to live inside
and trying to deal with work
and my boyfriend
who is also starting college.

I hope to spend more time writing once I'm settled. I have actually composed nearly all of a middle grade children's book so I have been writing but, really, that's all I'm capable of before I lose confidence or interest or my body starts to hurt.
Maybe that will do well and help me reestablish confidence in my writing.

I'm a pitiful soul, aren't I just?

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Euphemia Falls Under the Thumb of Miss Leigh

Euphemia is a main character of The Wind-Up Terrier. Here's a excerpt from her past. 

Euphemia stood on the edge of the platform and contemplated pulling herself over the iron railing. That was the hard part. After she managed to get her skirts and bustle over it would be more difficult not to fall than to stay perched so precariously. She stared down at the polished slate and dismissed the notion. She would only fall a few yards and then all she'd have to show for her pout of ill temper would be recriminations and the scowl of that horrible governess that had arrived bright and early with the post the morning before. Euphemia blew back a lock that had fallen loose, probably from her rebellious thinking. Miss Leigh probably wouldn't accept that as an excuse. Hair was to be neat. Dresses were to be plain. Behaviour was to be reserved but polite. Truly, her mother had not been so very different in her criticisms. She felt tears moisten her brown eyes which had been dry and itchy from the fifteen times she'd cried in the last day.

This woman had none of the right that her mother had. Her mother could be lenient. Her mother would occasionally kiss her. The tears began to flow full force and Euphemia felt the hard iron in her clenched fists begin to grind against her palms. She crouched beside the railing in what she realized absently was not at all an appropriate pose for a young lady of eleven and scrunched her eyes closed. What did it matter, her mother was dead? She was cold and grey and her eyes were glassy.

She'd wondered how green could look so flat and dim but it had and they'd carted her mother out like a sack of potatoes, though more delicately. The funeral was tomorrow. The governess would be there, though she had no right to be and Euphemia knew the woman would have a hold on her. Would crying even  be allowed, she wondered?

"There you are," said a measured voice and Euphemia flinched when she felt hands wrap around the shoulders of her green wool dress. She went easily when they pulled her up and spun her around and she looked at the plain face of Miss Leigh. She watched passively as the woman looked her over. "What are you doing up here so early? Breakfast is currently stone cold in the nursery and I will not have it be sent back on your account. She wrapped one hand over Euphemia's arm and pulled her towards the stairs that lead down to the roof exit. "We have lessons to attend to. Don't dawdle."