So, I am having some kind of crisis as a writer. Well, as a NaNo-er. Two years ago, NaNo was the easiest thing I'd ever done. Last year, it was damn hard and I hated my story, but I won. This year, I have an okay plot, but boring characters, and come the middle of the story, I just can't write it any more. I know what's supposed to happen, but it won't.
I think this story (which I sort of wrote last year, and it was awful) is just not ready to be written, and needs to ferment a bit. I want to polish up my good novel and send it out. But it has one serious flaw that needs to be addressed, and it is thorny and horrible and no matter how I look at it, nothing helps.
I need short stories. But I don't have time to write them with NaNo. I could stop NaNo and write shorts in my NaNo document, but that feels like cheating. Stopping NaNo to edit other things makes me want to die of shame, because I WON the last two years. I want a perfect record!!
Advice? Words of comfort? Flagellations?
Oh, by the way: in the last two weeks, I've had a conversation with Neil Gaiman (who put his arm around my shoulders *nerd dance!!*), almost ridden (but not quite) the world's largest carousel, seen the Dresden Dolls live, gotten my ukulele signed all over, and given Amanda Palmer a squidhat. So I've got that going for me.
I'm not dead! Or even a zombie. But I am carrying 22 credit hours.
I thought I was going to have to drop out of internet Alpha, but then the other night I wrote 1,000 words and some plot happened. So I can still dream, right? I motivated myself by buying some superfine merino wool and saying "SELF! You may NOT touch the post apocalyptic steampunk spinning wheel until you have written 1,000 words!!!!!"
And then I did. So YAY!!
Now I am off to buy a dress shirt for recruiting day on Wednesday. I still have to update my resume and get a folder. On top of recruiting day, there's an on campus job to apply for before Friday, a biographical brief of Empress Theodora that needs to get written (by Friday, too), fire show on Saturday, rehearsal every Monday through Oct. 4th for a fire show on Oct. 7th. Practicing for and playing an Expendable Iceclimber show next Monday that will somehow magically not conflict with fire rehearsal. A newspaper article and my I.A. story on the 6th. Another fire show on the 9th, which I have just realized conflicts with Tony's parents coming to dinner. Unfortunately, Tony and I are the ones doing the fire show... Any number of exams, quizzes, papers, etc for all BAZILLION of my classes.
And, you know, life.
Somehow, also, there will be NaNoWriMo. And then I will go into a coma for the entirety of winter break, awakening only briefly for Christmas and New Years.
So, my mom said "let's go on vacation and stay with my favorite professor's widow."
Ruth Kahn. Ruth GANNET Kahn. Author of My Father's Dragon.
Who, it also turns out, knew Ursula K. LeGuin's family, and visited them on holiday in 1936, when Ursula was like, 6 years old. I saw pictures of six-year-old Ursula K. LeGuin. She was really cute.
And she has fairyland in her backyard, with grapes and blackberries and currant bushes and winding paths. And a barn with beds and a kitchen and houses for little people (made from sheep pens. They have signs that say "post office" and "bank" and have lights inside them that turn on.
This place is SO EPIC. I'm taking SUCH pictures tomorrow.
Also, Ruth knows EVERYTHING about Everything. And grows vegetables and does tai-chi.
I would just like to say that I somehow managed to apck my heaviest checked bag to EXACTLY 23 kilos. How did I do this? The world will never know. I like to think I have magical powers of persuasion over luggage and/or airport scales.
In other news, I am sitting at gate 6 in the Cork airport, watching people get off the plane I am about to get on. Also, my bag was MOST THOROUGHLY searched by security. Why? I have no idea. I think it was the enormous tangle of wires comprised of my headphones, my spare headphones, by adapter, my iPod cord, and two phone chargers. the security lady complimented the portrait done by Tony, cuddled and smiled at my stuffed bunny rabbit, and was sympathetic to my "bad leg," which is really a fantasy constructed to get my badass jackal-headed cane through security. OKay, only half a fantasy, because if I walk for too long, my long-suffering right leg does start flaring up. And, I got a charlie horse walking to the bus stop this morning (in my left leg. Seriously. I am breaking).
My hair is turning a bit mad. It is long enough to look stupid now, if it is treated the wrong way.
I hope they don't detain my checked bags and search them. I have this feeling that all the Lush bath bombs stuffed in there will smell suspicious. Or just so good that they HAVE to open the bags JUST TO SMELL THEM.
Okay. Fifteen minutes to boarding. Best wrap up and stuck my computer back in my bag.
In the next month or so, I must learn to write comic scripts.
The Aristede Makricosta story that I brainstormed for while roadtripping down the west coast of Ireland has been put on hold indefinitely, mostly because it has the most BORING MAIN CHARACTER ever to exist, EVER. Instead, there will be a Regency Steampunk Sky Pirate Political Thriller. With Faeries. And Ostrich Races. And apparently Lots of Capital Letters. And this interesting and inspiring piece of work will be conducted as a graphic novel! One hopes. I'll let you know how it goes. Maybe post pictures. Tony's doing the panels for it (I am a-one at concept drawings, but do not ask me to recreate the same character in intimate detail over and over and over again). In short, it is going to be epic. If I can learn to write comic scripts. AND I WILL.
In other news, Tomorrow is my last day in Cork. WTF?
Sooo... is anyone planning on going to Confluence this year?
Because you totally should be. Because, as radio silent (and weird and grouchy when I do post) as I have been lately, I really do love you all and miss you and would like to see you in person and stay up stupidly late and do henna...
I don't remember if I ever said much about the December flooding in Cork. But I would just like to say that even though I was not here at the time, I am still PISSED that the floods ever happened.
The water quality in our apartment has SUCKED. And is STILL sucking. Several people have told me it is because they're still trying to fix stuff from the floods, and don't want us all to die, so there are lots of chemicals and things in the tapwater.
Oh, my skin thanks you, Cork City.
I need to get back to lovely Yellow Springs water that does not give me breakouts. I don't GET breakouts. Unless you put me in Ireland, after a terrible flood, with awful water quality! *gripe*
Only eight days left of study abroad. Wow. What? Back to that nice clean water REALLY soon. And away from all my Irish lads. I realized last night at a choral party/birthday thing that I would really, really miss them all... : ( It's that bonding during the ash cloud madness that did it.
Right. Should probably go get dressed and spend my Boots coupon before it expires. It's actually sunny today, which is bizarre, so I'm going to take advantage and probably go to the park later. Oh, Fitzgerald Park, how I will miss you.