Ah, to once again return...

I'm still alive~ If someone is actually reading this, you probably talked to me fairly recently and already know that I am alive, but it bears repeating. One day it won't be true.

Wow, that's a fucking depressing start. Guess that's what I get for neglecting my blog for so long~

I've been writing a bit on and off. A few poems, a short story or two, mostly for the few contests we've had at the Locution forums. Still going to college, still working. Did I mention I was working? Wow, it's been that long. Recap: I got a part time job. Money is good. Working can be fun. Oh, and I went to England for the first time in 6 years in May.

Busy busy.

Anyway, I've been feeling the need to write lately, so I've decided to start updating this blog more regularly again. We'll see how long it lasts. :D

Bit too tired to churn out something new, so I think I'll post some clichéd snippets I've written the past week. Maybe if I get it out of my system, something original will turn up~

***

The lights in the sky came on a Tuesday night. I remember that bit well. On Tuesdays my daughter had soccer practice, and her muddy cleats were sitting by the door when I stepped out onto the porch.

I talk about the lights, but actually it was the humming that was first. A low sound, resonating inside my head. When it started I thought it was my damn ears again—they do strange things when the weather changes. Ringing, dizziness, that sort of thing. But my dog Sassy heard it too. Her ears pricked up and she looked all around the room.

So I opened the door and walked outside. And there they were. Pale blue, bright red, lime green. Strange dots hovering and darting around the sky above our neighborhood.

Now I know what you're thinking. I've thought it too, lots of times. But I've seen meteors before. Got up early to watch the Leonids with my parents when I was twelve. I know what meteors look like, and these weren't them. I don't live by an airbase, either. No experimental aircraft about. Not many normal aircraft either, come to think of it.

I suppose I could have imagined it. But whenever I think that, I remember how Sassy reacted. Shot straight past me to the middle of the yard, then barked at the sky until they left. I don't think she'd humor a hallucination of mine like that, do you?

***

Never use credit cards. That was an important rule. A credit card could be traced, and even if you used it only once it could betray you, become a small piece of the map that leads them to you. Always steal cash or food or clothes. Leave the plastic.

Never threaten violence, either. She didn't want to hurt anyone, of course, but even just a threat was bad. Threats got noticed. Better to slip a wallet from a banker's jacket pocket without him feeling a thing.

That was another rule. She only took from people who could afford it. Not quite Robin Hood, but even he probably kept a bit for himself on the side. He was hunted by the Sheriff, after all, living the life of a fugitive in the forest, like her.

Well, not like her. The analogy fell down there, too. She was hiding under bridges, in sewers, in alleys, not amongst the leaves. And as for the Sheriff—a shadowy government agency was also a bit different from the Robin Hood stories her mum had told her.

Gosh, I have a blog!

I really should come by here more often. ;)

Life's going well--my summer classes will be coming to an end soonish, and I have a job prospect, provided things work out. Exciting stuff!

I've been really enjoying my literature class. The book we're using is very interesting, and I keep dipping into it and reading little sections. (It's easier than starting and finishing a book, unfortunately.) My favorite thing lately was a comparison of two versions of the same story. It was fascinating to see what the author changed, and I had fun trying to figure figure out why he edited the things he did.

Interactive Fiction has also been taking up a lot of my time lately. I'm slowly working my way through the manual for Inform 7, which is a language for writing IF. At some point I'd like to start writing my own stories; I have an idea for one, but I'll probably try some simpler things first. There are so many things to consider, it honestly seems more complicated than writing a novel!

I haven't been writing much, but in the past few days I've written some very rough poems on the Locution forums. There's a thread in the Insight subforum called Chaining Poems, and the concept is simple. It starts with five words. A person writes a poem using them, and then posts five more words for another person to write a poem. Repeat! Anyway, here are my contributions so far~

***

geyser
filament
schist
strata
oblique

The geyser erupts
between the closet and our bed.
Somewhere underneath the floor
words collected, letters pushing
serifs tangling corners grinding
until the pressure was too much.
Lexical shrapnel.

When the steam dissipates
there are no words left.
     (You have left as well.)
I pick at the carpet around the crater,
pull up strips and dig into our lives.
Follow the filament of thought
inward and down,
past the strata studded with artifacts.
Chopsticks from dinner last Wednesday,
six of hearts from poker two weeks ago,
the napkin you scrawled 836 3098.

I scrape the dirt, dust off the fragments,
peer at oblique angles,
but cannot see when the schist fractured,
when two planes separated and fell apart

***

beer
origami
nevertheless
bondage
cinnamon

We linger by the beer
behind its glass doors, chilling
and you ask what I'd like for dinner

I tell you I wish I was an origami crane
fold me a thousand times
and I would soar
escape the bondage of gravity
the weight of these limbs
the fog in my mind

You smooth my creases
sharp as they are
and blow breath into me

Nevertheless, you say
we need to eat tonight

I grab a squat jar of cinnamon
a bag of rice, a box of raisins
we will have something
that tastes of farawayland
and later dream of flying

Still alive~

The 750 words experiment was interesting while it lasted. Which wasn't very long, but who cares~

I found it actually wasn't very good for creative writing. For some reason I got stuck writing journal entries. That was different, since I've never been one to write in journals, but it got boring fairly quickly.

While I may have been neglecting this blog, I have been writing some posts for Locution's Blog. We've got a pretty snazzy schedule going, where people post every two weeks. I'm enjoying rambling about things, although I need to stop being so silly and perfectionist~ (What's new, eh?)

Otherwise I haven't been writing much, although I'm currently trying to edit some poems I've got knocking around. It's fun and frustrating at the same time, if that makes sense. ^_^

I wrote this quick thing last Friday night at one in the morning. It was partly prompted by the Locution blog post I wrote that day.

***

I carve the sand with cupped fingers and wait for balls of tar to fill the moat. Not too far away a pelican cannot fly, its feathers heavy while I build the tower higher. I squeeze a wet clump into a spire, a beak pointing at the sky. It crumples under the weight.

Damn sand.

***

I'm not sure what it is. A prose poem, a piece of micro fiction? It's certainly odd, but I kinda like it.

750 Words, and Talking Trees

I've been remiss in my New Years Resolution, but for the past 5 days I've been taking part in 750 Words. I've been mostly treating it like a journal, so it doesn't produce much creative writing, but the statistics aspect is pretty interesting, even if it is a bit unsophisticated.

I was going the writing on my hard drive today and found this. I don't know where I was going with it, but I'm going to see where it takes me now.

***

"Come on, Mandy!" Elise tugged at Mandy's hand as she led her down the path towards the woods. Mandy followed behind obediently, wondering what her little sister's imagination had conjured up this time.

"What are you taking me to see? Are the fairies back?" she asked. Last summer Elise had invented a fairy community in the woods near their village. They had visited it almost every day, trying to catch a glimpse of a delicate wing tip or an acorn hat or a tiny footprint.

"No, silly; those weren't real." Elise stopped and turned around to look up at Mandy. She was frowning, obviously put out that Mandy had not realized this earlier.

"Oh," said Mandy, at a loss. At fourteen she knew there were no such things as fairies, but Elise had believed in them so she had always played along. When had Elise shed that illusion?

"Well, what have you found now?"

Elise grinned, pulling her hand free. She ran to the trees, shouting back, "You'll see!"

Mandy caught up with her just as the path became littered with leaves. She took her cue from Elise, and they both proceeded cautiously into the cool shade. Their tip-toeing feet made little noise on the tamped down earth, and the birds were quiet. The stillness struck her as odd and unease prickled up Mandy's spine, but she shook it off.

The path wound between the trees, taking them further into the dimness. A breeze began to blow through the canopy, and the rustling of the leaves reminded Mandy of people whispering. She was startled when Elise spoke, echoing her thoughts.

"The trees are talking," she said, her voice hushed.

"What are they saying?"

Elise paused, then stepped off the path. She strode up to the nearest tree, a beech, and stopped before it. She reached around the trunk as if she were hugging it, and Mandy had to stifle a laugh; Elise's arms didn't even make it halfway around its girth. Elise glanced back reproachfully and put her finger up to her lips before resuming her position, one ear against the smooth bark.

At first, nothing happened. Mandy stood watching, and Elise stood listening, and the branches swept back and forth above them. After a minute or so, however, there was a change, and the gentle swishing of the tree tops became louder as the wind grew stronger. The roar swelled not unlike the sound of waves crashing on the beach; it rose then fell, only to rise again. Unnerved, Mandy picked her way through the scrub to Elise’s side. The young girl's face was scrunched up in concentration, eyes screwed shut.

"Elise. I think we should go," Mandy said, raising her voice over the roar.

Elise opened her eyes. "But they're talking!" She went to put her head back against the trunk, but Mandy grabbed her arm.

"Not now, Elise! There must be a storm coming; we have to get home!"

"But—"

"Not now!" Her heart thumping in her chest, Mandy pulled Elise away from the tree and back to the path. Twigs reached for their clothes and Mandy stumbled on a root.

Elise twisted in her grip, digging her heels into the earth. "Mandy, no!" Above them tree limbs whipped into a fury, and a branch crashed to the ground a few feet from them. Trees groaned as they leaned in the wind, and it felt as if Mandy's breath was being stolen from her lungs.

Pushing and pulling, Mandy dragged Elise along the path a few feet at a time, her sister flailing, yelling. Tears ran down the girl's face, and Mandy looked away, fear clawing at her throat. Leaves rained down on them, so thick Mandy couldn't see the sky. She batted at them with her hand, nearly at the edge of the wood—

And Elise yanked her arm free.

The screaming wind stopped at once. Mandy stood gasping as the final leaves fluttered to the ground around her. Her ears rang in the silence. "Elise? Elise, where are you?" She stumbled in a circle, the tree trunks a blur.

"Elise!"

Mandy ran back into the trees, her shuddering breaths loud in her ears. She reached the beech in less than a minute, but no one was there. "Elise?"

A great sigh rustled the boughs of the trees, and Mandy froze. In between the roots of the tree, where Elise had been standing with her ear to the bark, was a sapling. Its leaves waved in the breeze before falling still.

***

Bleh. I hate it when I have an ending in mind, but I don't manage to do it justice. Guess that's what editing is for, right?

Poetry Snippets

This Thanksgiving weekend is a writing weekend. I have thus far written a critique, posted a story for critique, started editing said story, and begun trying to make an incomprehensible poem into something comprehensible. (I am thinking the last is a lost cause, but I'm gonna keep trying. ^_^)

The story and poem are the ones I wrote for my creative writing class. I won't bother posting them here yet, but I feel like putting up some of the exercises I've done (one of which I wrote about in my previous post). They're not good, but they were fun to write~

***

Write an unrhymed poem that incorporates the following six words (among others): ROAD, DEAR, SICKLY, GLASS, DISPERSES, BLOSSOMS

Dear Friend,

You took the left turn and I the right
and I wished it had been a knife in the road instead
because then my feet would not have wanted to be right.
The sickly scent of your new perfume
dispersed with the distance and I hated it--
its presence, its disappearance.
Red blossoms on the hedgerows were your cheeks
and bees buzzed around blushing petals.
My dull face did not attract such suitors
and I swatted down your butterfly.

Guilty feet shuffled and scuffed
the dirt, the pebbles, the dust
and later they found their way back to town.
You stood behind the glass of a shop window
and my feet tripped one over the other--
but I saw that you had two left feet
equal to my two right feet.

I waved, and you smiled.

***

Write a poem in which one color (ex: red) is frequently repeated. Consider the symbolic associations of your chosen color (ex: anger, passion, death). Make color your unifying motif. Pay close attention to where, when, and why you're breaking the language where you are.

Viola Brown

The brown sound seeps deep into my bones
and I am the one who owns these strings.
Brown wood sings in mellow melody,
rich rhapsody thrilling down my arms,
and it warms like coffee on an autumn day.

I am a chestnut rooted in brown earth,
my leaves unfurling in rebirth to the sound
resonating all around. My heart begins to heal
as my flying fingers feel and my ears hear
the color of brown.

***

The second is very shallow, but I had so much fun messing around with sounds I really can't bring myself to care. ^_^

On the Creative Writing Class

I've been having a lot of fun in my online creative writing class, but unfortunately it's the cause of my lengthy radio silence. A few weeks ago we had a fiction workshop, in which everyone posted a story and then critiqued the other stories. Twenty-two critiques in three weeks gets to be a bit wearing. ^_^

Having to write a story for the workshop was good motivation, though; I managed to write a shortened version of a concept I've had for several years. I think it must be pleased to see the light of day after knocking around in my head for so long. The draft was received fairly well, and soon I'll begin revising it for our final "portfolio" assignment.

Going through the critiques I received has me pondering how to deal with contradictory opinions, a situation I hadn't come across before. On Locution I usually get a body of advice that all adds up to a certain direction; even different opinions aren't blatant contradictions. With this workshop, though, I've found people can have very different reactions to the same story. One person really disliked the magical element I introduced, for instance, while two people thought it needed more emphasis to seem more magical. Yet another said he liked the subtlety of it. I'll probably end up editing the story in line with the opinion I favor, but I can't decide if that's taking the easy way out or simply the way to deal with such variance. Ah well~

Just over a week ago we started the poetry segment of the course, which has been interesting. I'm not much of a poetry person, and I was both apprehensive and excited about it. Right now I've got my workshop poem and a color poem to write--it's sort of what I'm avoiding at the moment, but I'll get round to it soon. ^_^;;

I made a conscious effort when the segment started to try thinking differently. I don't write much poetry, but when I do it's not uncommon for someone to say it's too much like prose, or they can't find a deeper meaning. And I agree--I'm not very good with poetic language or symbolism. I think, though, I managed something different with the exercise last week. We had to take six words the professor gave us and use them in a poem. What resulted wasn't good, per se--the imagery was probably a bit muddled, and rereading it I can see places that need work. Point is, I actually paid attention to imagery, symbolism, metaphor, and suchlike. I may not have got the execution right, but I was thinking about it as I wrote and edited, and I think it made a difference.

Anyway, I should probably get back to thinking about that color poem:

Write a poem in which one color (ex: red) is frequently repeated. Consider the symbolic associations of your chosen color (ex: anger, passion, death). Make color your unifying motif. Pay close attention to where, when, and why you're breaking the language where you are.

I'll see how it goes. ^_^

Locution Issue 3 Is Out!

You can download it here. ^_^

I expect anyone reading this blog (all three of you) already knows of the publication, but what the heck. I'm excited.

In other news, I started my math class a few weeks ago. So far it's really going well; I forgot how much I enjoyed math. Yesterday I also bought my books for the creative writing class, since I'm hopeful that I'll be able to manage taking it along side the math class. So I'm excited about that, too.

Lots of excitement. :)

On the writing front I haven't been particularly busy. I did post my time travel story for critique on Locution, which has me motivated to take it further and develop the story. As a result, for the past few days I've been thinking up ideas and possibilities at inopportune moments, like when I'm just on the edge of sleep. Ah writing, how I love thee~

News

I haven't written a lot in the past two months, at least not in terms of fiction—most of my energies have gone into writing essays and journal entries for my first college class (English Composition). It's nice to get back into the habit of writing essays, and I certainly need the practice, but five paragraph essays do get wearing after a while...

I did slightly edit a story I wrote last October for a contest on the Locution Forums. The next issue of Locution is coming up (planned date of publication is August 15), and as a staff member I had to submit something. It was interesting to do, since editing is my usual obstacle to finishing a story. I can edit as I write, and I can edit before entering a forum contest, but afterwards? For some reason or another, I get stuck.

This time, however, I had a reason to persevere, and I managed a few changes that (I hope) were worthwhile. So that's progress, perhaps. ^_^

I'll also hopefully be taking an online creative writing course in the fall, which will mean I have to make the time for more creative stuffs. Huzzah~ \o/

Day 30

I did more of a critique on Mimir's Well, but didn't get to anything else today. I feel that's a bit of a cop out, but I think waiting another day to finish would probably be worse.

Huzzah, I'm done? ^_^

I shall begin Roux's challenge in a few days, I think. Perhaps every other day, with new writing on the off days. I've quite enjoyed writing so often, even if it doesn't amount to much.

One more day!

One more day and I shall have finished. I wrote a bit more of a critique on Roux's Mimir's Well (to be finished and posted tomorrow), but I thought my final day should have something creative. So, until tomorrow. ^_^

(Yeah, I know, silly of me to put it off one more day. I have a habit of getting distracted... Grar.)

Er, I went to the movies today...

It was not aborted this time, which was fun, but it did leave me rather tired.

I'm not exactly ending on bang, am I? More like a whimper. ^_^

Day 28

Did a bit of an edit of Roux's story that she posted on Megatokyo. Dunno if it counts, since I just nitpicked, really...

Yeah, it counts. :P

Ugh.

I really should've written something today. I feel so lazy! :(

Eh, I went to the doctor. And I wrote a lot yesterday. (Excuses, excuses...)

Charlie Wilson's War...

Is a fun movie with brilliant, witty dailogue. Man, if I could write dialogue like that I think I'd die happy. ^_^

I'll be back on Monday. Probably. Tomorrow, I go see Wall-e. Huzzah!

Well, today was an adventure.

My dad and I wanted to go see The Incredible Hulk, but I've been feeling off these past few days. (Don't ask; I think it's probably just PMT, but the abdominal discomfort is somewhat... disconcerting? Ah well. If I get a fever, then I'll know if it's my appendix. ^_^) So I make myself go, 'cause I want to see the movie. Right at the last second though, just as my dad started to buy the tickets, I felt worse and decided I wasn't up to it. Gah. >_<

So, yeah. Not feeling too hot at the moment. I dunno how I'll be for the next few days, either, so I may not get much writing done. Which sucks, 'cause I felt like I was on a bit of a roll. Sigh...

Oh, yeah! Erm, Happy Fourth of July?

Guess what?

I'm tired! (Betcha didn't see that one coming, didja? -_^) It's only five o'clock and I'm already having trouble keeping my eyes open. So, yeah. Not gonna happen today.

Day 18

I worked on my next part for the chain story today, but I still can't post it. Don't worry; I'll have something up tomorrow, provided I'm not too tired. I'm actually going out for a change, though, so we'll just have to see. ^_^

Day 14 (two days late)

Well, I missed another two days, which is rather disappointing, but really, I'm not doing too bad. So far, in the first 13 days of this challenge (if I include the writings of Day 11 which have not been posted), I have written nearly 5,300 words. That's about 408 words a day, which doesn't seem like much until you realize that's about as much as I wrote per week before I started. Success! ^_^

Today I'm think I'll try writing three days worth (we'll see how that works out.) First I'll be taking a quick break from my pet werewolf to work on my chain story, but never fear! He shall return once I figure out what the hell happens next. ;)

This morning I got the second part of my chain story, the 300 or so words my partner wrote in response to what I wrote on Day 11. I have absolutely no idea where it's going, but it's really quite fun to wonder what he/she will write next. (I'm not sure I really know who my partner is, but maybe the more we write back and forth the more of an idea I'll have.)

Anyway, I can't post it here until it's over, but I'll get something else up today. ;}

I'm just too effing tired

And fed up, and overwrought. Sometimes it feels like my dad is the teenager, not me. He's currently listening to music downstairs, and it just so happens that I cannot escape the beat no matter where I go, and it is driving me insane. Normally I don't mind, but sometimes I'm tired and I can't focus and the last thing I want is some music pounding into my bedroom at 9:15 at night.

How hard is it to understand that sometimes I just can't deal with more than one thing at a time?

[/rant]

Sorry, venting over. I shall write something tomorrow, preferably before my dad comes home. >_<

Tired again...

Shall write a bit tomorrow. Today, though, I am tired.