Well as this is a blog about (mostly) writing, I suppose I should indulge your highest fantasies, and commune with you across the time and space of our beloved blogosphere.
I wish we hadn't named it blogosphere..we should have called it something darker. Edgier (...Dark Blogosphere?)
So as we come together, under hallowed halls of html forged curtains; resting our weary bones into chairs of driest spellwicker--it's just like wicker, like those cheap fucking lawn chairs from Target, only their magical.--as we come together in the name of curiosity and its mangled teat of boredom, I beseech you. Enjoy.
Here is your gods-be-damned blog entry:
Last night amongst the depressed cushions of our couch (black as the coal they give children for sin) I reached new, stunning, epileptically tottering heights of rewriting.
With every word deleted I heard a moan escape from the Mac Book's speakers, as if a Halloween sound effect CD had burrowed its way into my iTunes. At one point--and I am not making this up--at one point, in the middle of chapter tweleve, a light shone out from the screen, blinding me for all of three seconds...and during those three seconds, I saw pictures of my grandchildren, saw visions of the past. I heard the music of horses.
I liked the pictures, but horse music is, well, they have no fingers. So it's all crap, really...
So yes. I hit some sort of new level in my writing last night. If I were a Pokemon, good Lord, but I'm sure I would have grown a startling new tail, or possibly a fresh electric blue carapace.
But a pokemon I am not. I am an author. A man. And I wrote in such a way that I have never been more excited or proud of myself and my future (world's largest man is also author!--the headlines will say)
I have a whole new understanding of craft, a whole new palette of possibilities, and I have upgraded my weapons appropriately, placing the materia in the correct slots.
I would be remiss if I did not mention the fact that I have shared my novel (still writhing under my scalpel) with a few friends. Each and every one of them has said wonderful, if not surprisingly nice things about it. I won't write anymore, because its odd to say that, and slighlty embarrassing. But, this is (mostly) a writing blog, and I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I might possibly (fingers crossed) be doing something right.
Besides I didn't even mention--
-mE!
#4 y503 p9o4 w yw5r4jl 708 wjr (
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
News About Life
This weekend was Independence Day, which, in America, means everything is closed and exploding. It sounds much nicer than it is.
The library and its computers were locked being doors closed in the name of independence. Me, being in the midst of tinkering together the worst parts of the novel, and Sarah, being a professional photographer, spent the three day weekend taking turns on our laptop, switching every four hours or so.
It wasn't that bad, really, I read a lot of pages of things, and between turns we hung out and acted married.
Saturday night we drove down into the city to watch the fireworks. A thunderstorm appeared, washing the colored stars into wispy fingers which clutched at the dark. We were in our car, staring out in the middle of traffic as the fireworks burst in the rain before us, echoing like thunderclaps and gunshots against the city skyline.
It was a magical sort of thing, in the sense that it made us smile for no damn reason at all.
I just thought I should write all this down. It seemed the sort of thing we'd like to remember.
-mE.
The library and its computers were locked being doors closed in the name of independence. Me, being in the midst of tinkering together the worst parts of the novel, and Sarah, being a professional photographer, spent the three day weekend taking turns on our laptop, switching every four hours or so.
It wasn't that bad, really, I read a lot of pages of things, and between turns we hung out and acted married.
Saturday night we drove down into the city to watch the fireworks. A thunderstorm appeared, washing the colored stars into wispy fingers which clutched at the dark. We were in our car, staring out in the middle of traffic as the fireworks burst in the rain before us, echoing like thunderclaps and gunshots against the city skyline.
It was a magical sort of thing, in the sense that it made us smile for no damn reason at all.
I just thought I should write all this down. It seemed the sort of thing we'd like to remember.
-mE.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Not Much of Any News at All Really
Just a quick pop in to wave my hand and say hello to all three of my regular and astute readers. (And all five of you in the future.)
I've been hard at working transcribing my blue penciled runes into a final manuscript. I'm excited, as since I've glanced back at the progress made, the thing now reads like a right and proper Work; the sort of thing that, if read with a candle under the moon, might unleash billowing plumes of darkness upon our world. In a good way. Look I am busy writing a fucking novel, I don't have time for clever metaphors and things-that-make-sense-cummukery.
Although it seems every keystroke is stamping the story with liquid gold; the process is slow and relentlessly glaciarial. Which I word I just invented; because I can do that sort of thing. I write novels. We novellers invent all sorts of clever things.
Do you like eating bread? We invented that.
Yea, I was surprised too.
-mE!
&08]54 6u4 39eu 708 w54 ( uwr
I've been hard at working transcribing my blue penciled runes into a final manuscript. I'm excited, as since I've glanced back at the progress made, the thing now reads like a right and proper Work; the sort of thing that, if read with a candle under the moon, might unleash billowing plumes of darkness upon our world. In a good way. Look I am busy writing a fucking novel, I don't have time for clever metaphors and things-that-make-sense-cummukery.
Although it seems every keystroke is stamping the story with liquid gold; the process is slow and relentlessly glaciarial. Which I word I just invented; because I can do that sort of thing. I write novels. We novellers invent all sorts of clever things.
Do you like eating bread? We invented that.
Yea, I was surprised too.
-mE!
&08]54 6u4 39eu 708 w54 ( uwr
Saturday, June 27, 2009
News About Writing
Saturday Morning and two weeks of marriage has arrived.
I just read Chamber of Secrets to my wife until she fell back asleep, and am now in the living room, getting ready to continue my watercolor blue pencil mark-up of the Great & Secret Novel.
I got to chapter five last night, reading and writing my way through the typo ladden pages. The best thing I can possibly say is that it's not nearly as bad as I might have feared, and that in fact, I'm even enjoying myself. it turns out I really like this story, and I am shocked and elated that I, myself, wrote it.
That's not to say the papers are not now covered with mistake alarmed cross outs, circlings, and scribblings; so much so that they are starting to resemble paintings more than chapters.
I don't care. I it a god damn exciting day when you can take time to sit on the couch and copy-edit your own novel.
I suppose one of you three readers would be interested in why I am marking up my beautiful printed pages blue. The reason for the typo-paint-by-number marathon, is that I've now put the book away for the better part of more than a few months. I'm coming to it with fresh eyes, and a well shot memory which doesn't remember the lines the same way it did when I started.
Now is the time to correct the prose, now is when I make sure I'm telling the story as best as I possibly can.
Also, reading over Sarah and Evan's dual marks (they've both read through it) is highly entertaining, as neither of them seem to agree, or catch the same mistakes. It's like reading through a forum war, written all over my manuscript, and that shit is delightful.
So I think I should mention, (since it is one of the coolest things that has ever happened to me) that one of my all time favorite authors, J. Robert King, decided to read a comment I left him, stumble in through the back door of my blog, and subsequently write about me on his own website. I won't repeat what he said here, but its very flattering, exciting and all around probably one of my favorite accidental things I've ever found here, just sitting there in the ether, waiting for me.
here is the link.
What makes it even more exciting is I had just reread one of his books during my honeymoon, which means he wrote this probably while I was reading him.
Life is all.right.
-mE!
&08 w54 6u4 k0e6 h4869t8p 6u9jy ( uwg4 4g45 k46;
I just read Chamber of Secrets to my wife until she fell back asleep, and am now in the living room, getting ready to continue my watercolor blue pencil mark-up of the Great & Secret Novel.
I got to chapter five last night, reading and writing my way through the typo ladden pages. The best thing I can possibly say is that it's not nearly as bad as I might have feared, and that in fact, I'm even enjoying myself. it turns out I really like this story, and I am shocked and elated that I, myself, wrote it.
That's not to say the papers are not now covered with mistake alarmed cross outs, circlings, and scribblings; so much so that they are starting to resemble paintings more than chapters.
I don't care. I it a god damn exciting day when you can take time to sit on the couch and copy-edit your own novel.
I suppose one of you three readers would be interested in why I am marking up my beautiful printed pages blue. The reason for the typo-paint-by-number marathon, is that I've now put the book away for the better part of more than a few months. I'm coming to it with fresh eyes, and a well shot memory which doesn't remember the lines the same way it did when I started.
Now is the time to correct the prose, now is when I make sure I'm telling the story as best as I possibly can.
Also, reading over Sarah and Evan's dual marks (they've both read through it) is highly entertaining, as neither of them seem to agree, or catch the same mistakes. It's like reading through a forum war, written all over my manuscript, and that shit is delightful.
So I think I should mention, (since it is one of the coolest things that has ever happened to me) that one of my all time favorite authors, J. Robert King, decided to read a comment I left him, stumble in through the back door of my blog, and subsequently write about me on his own website. I won't repeat what he said here, but its very flattering, exciting and all around probably one of my favorite accidental things I've ever found here, just sitting there in the ether, waiting for me.
here is the link.
What makes it even more exciting is I had just reread one of his books during my honeymoon, which means he wrote this probably while I was reading him.
Life is all.right.
-mE!
&08 w54 6u4 k0e6 h4869t8p 6u9jy ( uwg4 4g45 k46;
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
News About Love and Life
Let me tell you about my life.
Sarah and I were married over a week ago; I don't know how to follow that with words that would begin to carry the same meaning as I would hope them too. I should try.
I have eclipsing memories, bits and moments which threaten to block out necessary motor functions should I dwell on them. Sarah, walking down the aisle, looking more gorgeous than you would believe if I spent any time writing of her in detail. I remember her hair, her eyes, her smile. The path curved, just slightly, and I leaned my head to the side to capture as much of her as possible. I remember her voice, so different than usual, so perfect and light as she smiled through her vows, it was like I was hearing a purer version of her, as if I were staring through the clearest part of the river that is Her. I remember dancing to our song. Our first dance, and smiling at each other, knowingly, connecting like two live wires which only carried knowledge of the other and its voltage. I remember how good it felt.
Also, my groomsmen walked out to the theme of Balamb Garden, from Final Fantasy VIII.
I could write paragraphs about this one lone day in my life, and never be able to convince you t feel the things I felt. I hope you feel like that too sometimes. It's beautiful.
We spent the honeymoon playing in waves as clear as stained glass, and reading books on the shore in the sun. This, more than anything, was the reason I burned into the electric shade of a jolly rancher.
I took a bath that night, when my skin was the color of a Backdraft: The Ride heat sensitive souvenir T-shirt. The water turned my legs into scorpions. Not the insect, but the band. Painful and annoying, my legs rocking me like a hurricane as I sat there, cringing with my sand battered copy of the Half Blood Prince.
...Sarah brought me an ice cream bar, so I suffered with a delicious chocolate grin.
What should I tell you about now? Oh. How about my Bachelor party?
For several weeks straight-As you may recall! I have been working away on version 2.0 of a card game I created and then designed with a few friends. Seeing as each of these friends just so happened to both be groomsman, I stayed up late each night, crafting cards and decks for us to play with.
1
So after the rehearsal after-dinner, Sakroka & Paxson of Ashgarden and I (with Evan©!) drove to Sakroka's castle, and played cards til 1 in the morning. It was, indeed, even though I continually lost as if Heaven had decreed it Should Be, even though they kept killing me on purpose, even though I spent most of the time watching them smiling and yelling at each other over something I created, the best damn bachelor party you'll ever hear of. A wondrous treat, delicious and comforting; like an ice cream bar being served in a bath.
So, what's next? well. The card game needs to be play tested more, extensively so. This, is a good thing. As it means I get to play games with my friends. I taught Sarah how to play, tonight over dinner. She beat me when I least expected it.
I have my first novel to go over one final time or two before I start sending it out. That's actually the biggest priority for me right now, after which I hope to resume writing my second novel.
I have a serial story being published in some sort of interval-like frequency, starting in September on Heavy Ink.com. I scratched a few notes in a moleskine over the holiday, though to be honest, I was preoccupied.
On a side note, The Islands were not what I expected. For one, there's Rum. Everywhere. Its the national currency. Also, when you're swimmming? at the beach? Due to Caribbean ingenuity, tiny underwater speakers play "In Your Eyes", by Peter Gabriel, no matter where or when your swimming.
So yea, I should be novelling, not--as I mentioned on my twitter, coloring a game board for a new game that I designed while laundering. Oh well. Now that I started the design of the board, I'm almost sure my mind will be satiated enough to rest from it while I dive back into The Great & Secret Novel.
A few more memories, before we part: Evan and I laughing as we cut hundreds of cards at Kinko's, as we built decks together late into the night. Sarah's dad, laughing as he ate pancakes. Sarah, getting to see her Dad again; hearing from me that her brother Luke was at the reception. Evan, reading my novel with a handle of Evan Williams beside him. Jeep, in his perfectly matched suit. Paxson of Ashgarden, standing behind me, proud and handing me the rings with his own personal solemnity. Sarah's whole family, driving past me on the highway when I least expected it. My bride, my wife, her hands cold and nervous, holding onto to my fingers just as tight as I was holding hers.
-mE.
U4pp0l #9t4; ( 39pp p0g4 708 t054g45l t05 we p0jy we t054g45 pwe6e;
Sarah and I were married over a week ago; I don't know how to follow that with words that would begin to carry the same meaning as I would hope them too. I should try.
I have eclipsing memories, bits and moments which threaten to block out necessary motor functions should I dwell on them. Sarah, walking down the aisle, looking more gorgeous than you would believe if I spent any time writing of her in detail. I remember her hair, her eyes, her smile. The path curved, just slightly, and I leaned my head to the side to capture as much of her as possible. I remember her voice, so different than usual, so perfect and light as she smiled through her vows, it was like I was hearing a purer version of her, as if I were staring through the clearest part of the river that is Her. I remember dancing to our song. Our first dance, and smiling at each other, knowingly, connecting like two live wires which only carried knowledge of the other and its voltage. I remember how good it felt.
Also, my groomsmen walked out to the theme of Balamb Garden, from Final Fantasy VIII.
I could write paragraphs about this one lone day in my life, and never be able to convince you t feel the things I felt. I hope you feel like that too sometimes. It's beautiful.
We spent the honeymoon playing in waves as clear as stained glass, and reading books on the shore in the sun. This, more than anything, was the reason I burned into the electric shade of a jolly rancher.
I took a bath that night, when my skin was the color of a Backdraft: The Ride heat sensitive souvenir T-shirt. The water turned my legs into scorpions. Not the insect, but the band. Painful and annoying, my legs rocking me like a hurricane as I sat there, cringing with my sand battered copy of the Half Blood Prince.
...Sarah brought me an ice cream bar, so I suffered with a delicious chocolate grin.
What should I tell you about now? Oh. How about my Bachelor party?
For several weeks straight-As you may recall! I have been working away on version 2.0 of a card game I created and then designed with a few friends. Seeing as each of these friends just so happened to both be groomsman, I stayed up late each night, crafting cards and decks for us to play with.
1
So after the rehearsal after-dinner, Sakroka & Paxson of Ashgarden and I (with Evan©!) drove to Sakroka's castle, and played cards til 1 in the morning. It was, indeed, even though I continually lost as if Heaven had decreed it Should Be, even though they kept killing me on purpose, even though I spent most of the time watching them smiling and yelling at each other over something I created, the best damn bachelor party you'll ever hear of. A wondrous treat, delicious and comforting; like an ice cream bar being served in a bath.
So, what's next? well. The card game needs to be play tested more, extensively so. This, is a good thing. As it means I get to play games with my friends. I taught Sarah how to play, tonight over dinner. She beat me when I least expected it.
I have my first novel to go over one final time or two before I start sending it out. That's actually the biggest priority for me right now, after which I hope to resume writing my second novel.
I have a serial story being published in some sort of interval-like frequency, starting in September on Heavy Ink.com. I scratched a few notes in a moleskine over the holiday, though to be honest, I was preoccupied.
On a side note, The Islands were not what I expected. For one, there's Rum. Everywhere. Its the national currency. Also, when you're swimmming? at the beach? Due to Caribbean ingenuity, tiny underwater speakers play "In Your Eyes", by Peter Gabriel, no matter where or when your swimming.
So yea, I should be novelling, not--as I mentioned on my twitter, coloring a game board for a new game that I designed while laundering. Oh well. Now that I started the design of the board, I'm almost sure my mind will be satiated enough to rest from it while I dive back into The Great & Secret Novel.
A few more memories, before we part: Evan and I laughing as we cut hundreds of cards at Kinko's, as we built decks together late into the night. Sarah's dad, laughing as he ate pancakes. Sarah, getting to see her Dad again; hearing from me that her brother Luke was at the reception. Evan, reading my novel with a handle of Evan Williams beside him. Jeep, in his perfectly matched suit. Paxson of Ashgarden, standing behind me, proud and handing me the rings with his own personal solemnity. Sarah's whole family, driving past me on the highway when I least expected it. My bride, my wife, her hands cold and nervous, holding onto to my fingers just as tight as I was holding hers.
-mE.
U4pp0l #9t4; ( 39pp p0g4 708 t054g45l t05 we p0jy we t054g45 pwe6e;
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