rowan fae

Emilie Autumn

2012-01-23T12:15:00.000-07:00

All right, it's official: I'm taking a break from the writing/publishing madness I've been working on since finishing Autumn Eddy, until Saturday. Why?
Emilie Autumn.

If you don't know who she is, and you live in or near Utah, be at the Complex (in SL,UT) on Friday night at seven o'clock. It's required--the Victoriandustrial Gwar-esque concert will leave you begging for mercy. There will be blood. There will be glitter. You will get tea spat at you (or possibly Tang-infused vodka). And there will be mind-blowing violin solos.

Anyway, the arrival of an Emilie Autumn concert always means a bout of sewing, and I've been trying to balance that and the writing, and I've been failing miserably. So I'm just going to take a break. I'll start writing again on Saturday.

Love you all. See you Friday.

Autumn Eddy (or, YAY, I did it!!)

2012-01-12T00:14:00.002-07:00

Autumn Eddy is the first in a four-story series that I will likely be calling Season's End. The title came from the NaNo forums, in which four seasonally-themed titles were suggested as a series:
Spring Wind
Summer Gust
Autumn Whirlwind
Winter Gale
I liked the concept, but I wanted to start in Autumn, and I wanted alliteration. Unfortunately for Autumn, I couldn't find an appropriate A-word. So, here's my list:
Autumn Eddy
Winter Wind
Spring Storm
Summer Squall
(I like the word squall ... we'll see if I can actually fit it into my story ... )
A note about the cover for just one second: That's my photomanipulation, but right this second it can only exist as a link to deviantART, because I failed to obtain permission from my various stock artists for its use in cover art before I was ready to put the story up. That's something I'll keep in mind, from now on. So, I may make small changes before I put the story up for sale ... for now, the cover image is here because it's pretty.
edit: the cover is the right one, now. Time to figure out the for-sale part ... on the plus side, it won't take this long ever again.
Some stats:
Begun: January 1, 2012
Finished: January 11, 2012
Length: 9000 words
Hours: about 20 hours, including, writing, cover art, this blog post, etc.

**********************Autumn Eddy**********************

Thedream continued to haunt Freida all day. Speaking to the Oracle ofthe Ashen Court hadn't helped, either. He remembered a dream, andwhen Freida spoke, bits and pieces of his dream--the same dream asher own--came back to him.

Butthe Oracle had been preoccupied and Freida hadn't been able to keephis attention on her dream--their dream--long enough for him to saywhat it meant.

TheTwilight Courtyard--the one courtyard wherein all changelings,regardless of Court affiliations, mingled--was strangely quiet.Freida sat on the ledge of one fountain--the hunter and the stag, butit was hard to tell which was which, for the man with the arrowpouring water into the basin below had antlers growing out of hishead, and the stag had turned on the man, antlers lowered andteeth--fangs--bared in a snarl. She sat on the ledge, trailing onethin forest-green hand in the water, watching seven others enjoy thecourtyard.

Well,four--in two pairs--were enjoyingthe courtyard, walking and talking in low murmurs, the FlowerMaiden--probably Spring Court--trailing her fingers absentmindedlythrough the flowers she passed, not seeming to notice the way theflowers stood straighter, with lusher blooms and more vivid colorsthan they had worn before she touched them.

Butthere was that Fairest-of-them-all from the Spring Court, herbeautiful face turned by a exquisite frown, standing against a wall,idly twirling a flower--a forget-me-not, Frieda noticed--and notspeaking a word, which was purely strange. The hulking ogre--SummerCourt, she was sure--pacing from one end of the courtyard to theother, muttering and growling to himself. It made her tense, justwatching him.

Onthe other side of the fountain from Freida, the snow-skinned man fromthe Winter Court sat, idly turning small patches of water into ice.She thought his name was Aubrey.

Shestood and made her way to the other side of the fountain to sit nearhim. "Hello. I'm Freida of the Autumn Court."

Thelook he gave her was hardly friendly, but neither was it unfriendly."I am Aubrey of the Winter Court." His voice was chill, andcrept into her marrow. She wrapped her arms around herself. After aslight pause, he said, "How may I help you?"

"Haveyou had any strange dreams lately, Aubrey?"

Hegazed at her with silver eyes, lashes encrusted with ice, for a longmoment. Then he sighed and looked at the fountain, the surface ofwhich had been turned to ice nearly to the hunter and stag. He pulledhis hand out with a cracking of ice. His skin was a pale, frozenblue, shimmering like ice.

"Yes,Freida, I have. Last night. It felt real, as though it has meaning,but I--do not know what it means." The slight pause caught herattention. She moved ahead carefully.

"Haveyou not asked anyone about its meaning? Even if the Onyx Court has nosoothsayers, our Oracle will see anyone of any Court."

"Whichis why you're out here, taking a survey about it." He sighed,then continued in a milder tone. "Yes, I spoke with my Court'sOracle. I couldn't keep him on task. It was as if every time Ibrought up the dream, I was speaking for the first time. Yourexperience was similar?"

Freidanodded slowly, not precisely reluctant to admit to her Court'sOracle's preoccupation. After all, he had admitted the same to her.And it wasstrange. "What could they both be so preoccupied about?"

"Preoccupied?"Aubrey spoke loudly, shattering Freida's reverie. "Freida, Idon't know about yours, but our Oracle neveracts like that. Not when someone comes asking for help with aproblem. Never."

Freidafrowned, then nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was--hopingthere was a normal explanation. This bothers me."

Witha sigh, Aubrey leaned back, surveying the courtyard. "Thosetwo," he asked quietly, shooting two streams of ice over thesurface of the water, one toward the pacing ogre, one toward thepainfully beautiful woman.

Freidastifled a sigh. "Yes. At least, I can tell something's botheringthem. Well, her at least--maybe he alwaysacts like that. Perhaps they're bothered by the same thing we are."

"Perhaps."Despite his bringing them into the conversation, he didn't seem eagerto actually bring them into the conversation. "Shall we talk tothem?" At her look, he added, "I'm as interested as you arein finding out what's going on."

Freidanodded, and said, "I'll talk to her if you'll talk to him."

"Please,Freida," he said.

Sheshook her head. "The way he acts like he's about to breaksomething--or someone--nothanks."

"Butyour Courts aren't at war, either."

Freidasighed, but he did have a point. "Very well. But if he decidesto tear me apart, it's your fault."

Henodded and stood, heading for the beautiful woman. Freida stood moreslowly, not eager to meet the ogre. Before she had taken more than astep toward the ogre, Linnet rushed up to her, her feathers ruffled,her breathing only slightly short.

"Freida,we just heard! The Summer Court!"

"Whatis it, Linnet?" Freida stopped, more than eager for a chance todelay conversation with the ogre.

"TheCrimson Court won't give up leadership."

"What?"Freida couldn't help staring at the ogre. Perhaps it hadn't beendreams that were occupying his attention after all.

"Theceremony tomorrow, it has been canceled.What else could it mean?"

Freidanodded, looking into Linnet's bright-dark eyes. "What are we todo?"

"TheCourt is talking now. All of us are to meet in two hours to hear whatthey have to say."

"Thanks,Linnet. See you then."

Linnetdarted away, and Freida saw Aubrey and the woman, with her shininghair and her bright eyes, and her expression that was at oncevulnerable and strong. They stood close together, watching her, notspeaking to each other.

Freidamoved around the fountain to join them. She was pleased to find thatshe and Aubrey were the same height; but unlike Freida, and despitethe delicacy he portrayed, he was fully there, completely real, in away that Freida had lost, perhaps forever.

Shespoke to Aubrey, but inclined her head to the too-beautiful woman."Spring Court's now the only one on relatively friendly termswith Summer."

"Whathas happened?" The woman's voice was clear, almost singing. Italso demanded.

Freidacontinued to look at Aubrey, but she answered the question. "Theycanceled tomorrow's ceremony, the changingof the guard, the turning of the wheel. Whatever you want to call it.Tomorrow is Lughnasadh, time for Summer to end and Autumn to begin.And the ceremony's been canceled!"

"Noneed for hysterics, child."

Freidalooked at the woman this time, her dark eyes wide with fury. Thewoman was smiling slightly, as if she knew a secret that no one elseknew. Close up, the unreal perfection of her beauty was even harderto bear, and Freida dropped her eyes.

Thewoman laughed a pleasant, tinkling laugh.

Freidalooked up again, and said quietly, "I assume you had the samedream? Or at least the same experience with your Oracle?"

Shenodded lazily.

"Thenwill you find out if that great, hulking man-eater has as well? Thatwould be a great help to us."

Aubreyfrowned at her. "You don't know he's a man-eater."

Freidashook her head, watching the woman leave them, and trying to blockwhat the woman had murmured half to herself: "I wonder if he's awoman-eater, too?"

Whenthey came back, the woman flirting with the ogre while assuringAubrey--she didn't look at Freida--that he had had the sameexperience, introductions were made: the woman was called Joy--ofcourse she is,Freida thought--and the one-eyed ogre who was head-and-shoulderstaller than Freida was called Oliver.

Freidafound it difficult to keep from glaring at Oliver, after hearing whathis Court had done. She tried to remind herself that Oliver likelyhad had as much to do with what his Court decided to do as sheherself did--which was to say, little to none.

Still,trust among the changeling Courts was small at the best of times.While their one uniting goal--to keep as far as possible from the Faewho had once been their masters, using the changelings as playthings,lovers, experiments, prey or decoration--was the same from Court toCourt, that was all that held them together. And their means were asfar from uniting as could be: the Summer Court seemed to think theFae could be faced and defeated, while the Winter Court seemed tofocus on hiding under their covers the rest of their lives. TheSpring Court and the Autumn shared an affinity for glamour and themagic of the Fae, but while the Spring Court seemed content to playwith it, the Autumn Court strove to use the magic of the Fae againstThem. Freida especially appreciated the irony of that.

"Joytold me what you said," Oliver said, his deep, rumbling voicebreaking through Freida's thoughts.

Shestiffened, looking at him. "Oh?"

Henodded. "The King wouldn't do such a thing. Any more than anyoneelse would. You must have it wrong."

Freidadidn't answer him. Linnet wouldn't have lied to her, and she couldn'tthink of any other explanation.

"Iask your help in uncovering the meaning of the dreams and why ourOracles cannot focus on them. I feel like there is somethingimportant being hidden from us, and--" she looked at Oliver as athought occurred to her. "And perhaps the effects range beyondour own minds. Perhaps the Summer King also had a dream, and got moreout of it than we. I propose we ask around. As many people as we can.I would like to know if others have the troubles the Oracles had. Orif anyone else had disturbing dreams. Will you help?"

Theothers nodded their assent.

**************************************************************

Whilewaiting for the Autumn Court--the King and his courtiers--the commonfolk could speak of nothing but the possibility of war with theSummer Court. Freida tried. She described the shadowy figures allwaiting on a tall hill, waiting for--something. She couldn't saywhat, but she remembered the feeling of anticipation and dread. Sheknew she had been one of the shadowy figures, and she thought othersfrom this holding were present in the dream.

Whenthe dream failed to elicit any comment from her friends andneighbors, she spoke of mundane things.

"Howdid that batch of mead turn out, Roger?"

Thetall, lanky brewer who smelled constantly of his heady brews, with afaint undertone of the noxious drafts he'd prepared for his Masterbefore escaping, grunted at her, and said shortly, "S'fine."She lifted her eyebrows. Normally Roger couldn't stoptalking about his creations, all mash tuns and wort and hydromel,until Freida felt dizzy trying to parse some meaning out of terms shedidn't understand.

"Whatdo you think's gonna happen, Freida? I don't fancy outright war withthe Summer Court, and I can't believe King Ambrose would demand that.But if we sidled up to them, all friendly-like. . .I still know themaking of some o' the draughts I made for Them.The Summer bastards wouldn't even know what hit 'em!" The brewergrinned, and Freida was shocked. Use Faerie poison on otherchangelings?

"Roger!"Her voice was hushed, strained in a whisper. She didn't want to callattention on herself or her friend. "What are you saying?Killing other changelings?"

Heshrugged. "Summer Court," he responded, his tone makingclear that he thought very little of the lives of changelings of thatCourt.

Sheshook her head in wonder, then moved away. She sought out others,asking about projects or causes, and always got the same kind ofresponse: a terse reply, if any, followed by talk of the upcomingwar. No one seemed to think there was any suitable response butwar.

Freidawanted to leave the Mirrored Courtyard, long before the two hours wasup, but she felt it was important to her cause to see how KingAmbrose and the rest of his Court would react to King Alexis'canceling the ceremony. Would they befixated on war, like the others? Unable to see anything else?

Atrumpet blasted, and Freida looked to the dais from the pillar she'dbeen leaning against. She could see thedais well if she stood on tiptoes, so she did.

TheAutumn King, Ambrose of the Crimson Tree, ruler of the Autumn Courtall year, but ruler of the Twilight Court, of all the changelingsseeking shelter in the Twilight Holding,from Lughnasadh, August first, to Samhain, November first--if theSummer Court let him, this year--entered the room, with fallen leavesswirling about his feet, and gleaming sparkles in the air, followinghis every movement. Ambrose was tall and dark, with dark, flashingeyes and variegated green-and-gold skin, cruelly handsome, withenough charm and charisma for ten men.

Hewas similar to Joy, she realized--beauty and cruelty and charm.King Ambrose was a Fairest-of-them-all, as well--he just wore thecruelty closer to the surface than did Joy. It was rumored that inhis time in Faerie, he had somehow gained the blood of dragons.

"Mypeople!" Ambrose's greeting had something of a dragon's roar init. "You have all heard the decree of King Alexis, King of theSummer, my brother and counterpart?"

Therewas a cry of assent, but Freida was silent. She had heard nothingabout an official decree, merely about a rumor.

"Brotherthough he be, he cannot hold back Autumn!" Ambrose raised a fistinto the air, and the gathered changelings began to cheer. He heldhis fist up for a minute, then began to slowly lower it. As if oncue, as if Ambrose held in his upraised fist the volume knob, thenoise lowered gradually, in time with the lowering fist. When hisfist was at his side, and the silence in the Mirrored Courtyard wastotal, the King smiled.

"Wewill not attack in force--the Summer Court is too strong for that tosucceed. I and my councilors have devised a plan, and the talents ofall assembled here could be instrumental. Please, come and speak withmy dux bellorum, give him your names and talents, if you wish to helpus. Thank you."

Thegathered crowd surged forward, and only by holding on to the pillardid Freida manage to not get swept away in it. The room felt droppedinto a late-autumn chill, and the look on her King's face--the large,dark eyes sparkling; the beautiful, cruel mouth curved into ahalf-smile; one long, talon-like fingernail tapping his mottled greenchin--the look on his face as he watched all the changelings struggleto be the first to help with the war effort made Freida shiver, anddrop back on her heels.

Sheleft the Courtyard, and went in search of the only people she wassure she could trust anymore.

**************************************************************

Freidareturned to the Twilight Courtyard to find Aubrey, Joy and Oliverwaiting for her, huddled together next to the Hunter and the Stag,not speaking.

WhenFreida approached, Joy sat up straighter, and seemed to move awayfrom the two men, despite the fact that she sat in between them.Oliver fixed Freida with a one-eyed stare, while Aubrey continued tostare into some middle distance in front of him.

Oliverspoke first, his low, grating voice harsh on Freida's ears. "Idon't understand what's going on, Freida. No one would speak ofanything of importance. They were all hanging around in the--theSummer Court, as though waiting for something to happen, but theywouldn't talk about it. They would gossip endlessly, or talkabout--well, projects, things important to the person speaking--andeven the most private people talked. If I had been going in forinformation, I would have come out a rich man."

Hepaused, then. He looked as though he were hunting the right words,but Freida had a question to ask. "No one mentioned a decree tocancel tomorrow's ceremony?"

Oliverlooked her. "No. Did you hear something about that?"

Freidanodded. "In the Autumn Court, I couldn't get my brewer friend tosay one word about a mead he recently brewed, when normally he won'tstop talking about his brews. But he was all too happy to talk aboutthe poisons he'd made--There.And how we should use them on the Summer Court. Then King Ambroseentered, and mentioned a decree--and that Summer could never holdback Autumn. He's taking volunteers--the entire Court--for magicalwarfare. I--left." The last word was a whisper. She felt sick.

Olivernodded slowly. "I don't know anything about this decree. But onething I noticed was that everyone I talked to would glance over theirshoulders, or around the people they were talking to--and it took mea while to figure it out, but they were all glancing to the west--asthough whatever they were waiting for would come from there."

Freidawas silent for a long moment. The Autumn Court--the MirroredCourtyard--was in the western wing of the Twilight Holding. "This--Idon't like this."

Joyspoke quietly. "It wasn't quite as bad in my Court--no oneadmitted to remembering any kind of dream, but they didn't seemas--fixated as you two have described. But one thing I heard over andover was speculation about who Queen Isadora would support. No oneever said the word war,but they spoke of support like there would be one."

Therewas silence for a moment before Aubrey finally raised his head, hiseyes focusing on those around him. Freida wasn't sure he had beenlistening.

"Isuppose my experience was most similar to Joy's. There were far morein the Courtyard than there usually would be, and they would talkabout anything at all, except for dreams, or the possibility of aproblem between Summer and Autumn." Joy opened her mouth, butAubrey forestalled her, putting a hand up. "It's not that theydidn't want to discuss something unpleasant, or that they didn't wantto get involved. It was as if, every time I brought up eithersubject, they simply couldn't hear me. They seemed literally deaf tomy questions."

Thesilence was longer this time. Freida knew she had nothing to say tothat.

Then,after a moment, she did. "This is magic. It has to be. And it'spretty powerful, too, to take the entire Holding. Or nearly theentire Holding," she added, glancing at the others. They werenodding.

"Who?"Aubrey's voice was quiet, but chill.

Joytossed her shining hair. "Anyone who profits from chaos--that issurely the intended result."

"Perhaps,"Freida said, tapping her lips thoughtfully. "There is thepossibility that whoever set this in motion screwed up, and the magicgot out of his or her control. But barring that, chaos is the likelyintended result. Or at least, the intended final result."

Joyarched an eyebrow at her, while Oliver and Aubrey merely waited.

"Forinstance, chaos would certainly be one effect of, say, war betweenthe Courts. But another effect might be upheaval within the Courtsthemselves. Kings or Queens of the seasonal Courts are not replacedoften. There are other offices that receive a new officer onlyslightly more frequently--adviser, or dux bellorum. Someone with moreambition than patience might have thought this an amusing way to pavethe road for his or her advancement."

"Sowe look among the courtiers?" Oliver smiled grimly.

Freidashrugged. "We look among anyone who might profit from what'shappening. Which includes the courtiers," she added, when Oliverfrowned.

"Shallwe go look around some more," Aubrey asked, getting up. "Forpeople acting--well, normal? Or odd compared to the others? Or--well,anything that might be a clue?"

Theothers began to get up as well. Freida began to nod, then an imageflashed in her mind. The shadowy crowd, the tall hill.

"Wait!"Her hand shot out in front of the others. "The dreams. Tell meabout them."

Theothers exchanged puzzled glances.

"Whyare we the only ones unaffected? Why did we find each other in thefirst place? I can't answer the first, but we've been fools not toconnect the two things we all have in common--we don't seem to beaffected by the spell, and we had troubling dreams we couldn't getanyone to pay attention to before everything else started happening.Tell me about your dreams."

Joyspoke first, slowly, but she picked speed and confidence in thetelling. "There was a crowd of people, all shadowy figures--Ithink I was with them, but I was also seeing this all from adistance, you understand?"

"Yes.So far, mine was the same," Freida said softly.

"Mine,too," said Aubrey and Oliver, on top of each other.

Joynodded. "They--or we--were in a great, dark, tangled forest,like in a faerie tale, or--or, well, like There."

Theyknew where she meant.

"TheForest was what was important. It was like the crowd was there merelyto witness the Forest. I specifically remember the giant leaves, thecreepers, and the thorns."

Olivernodded, his one eye blinking slowly. "In mine, the shadowy crowdwas in Terra, in the mortal realm. I know, because I know the placewell. It's--well--" He stopped, and seemed to flush, though thecraggy face seemed too hard, too little like flesh, to blush.

Hefinally mumbled, "I go there to eat sometimes."

SuddenlyFreida remembered what she'd called him earlier, only half-serious:man-eater. She glanced at Joy, who glanced back, with red stainingher cheeks. She looked beautiful that way, of course. She obviouslyalso remembered.

"Where?"Aubrey didn't seem affected at all. His ice-blue skin was untouched.

"CentralPark," the ogre said, all sign of embarrassment gone. "Anyway,that's all. The shadowy group walking around Central Park."

"Ithink mine was here. The Twilight Holding anyway."

"Youdon't know where?" Joy's voice sounded incredulous, and Freidacouldn't entirely blame her.

Aubrey'sblue-iced complexion darkened then. "It wasn't quite like yourdream. The shadowy crowd stood still, and the place flashed aroundus. Different rooms, different views of the same room. Sometimes Iseemed to be in the room with the crowd, and sometimes I would see itthrough a window, or from the other side of a courtyard."

"Hmm.Well, we'll just have to leave you for last," Freida said. "Minewas at the top of a tall, tall hill. One with an impossibly tall treeat its summit. I think I know where that is, but we'll visit Joy'sForest first."

"What?Why?" Joy almost sounded nervous. It only served to set thestandard for what was proper, of course. When Oliver spoke, hesounded much too confident, perhaps even fool-hardy.

"Togo in the circle, of course. We're ending with Winter, so we shouldstart with Spring. Right?"

Freidanodded. "Are you ready?"

Theymade their way for the eastern edge of theTwilight Courtyard, and stopped at a wall covered in carved vines andleaves and flowers.

Freidaturned to Joy. "You know how to get there?"

Joyshrugged uncomfortably. "I guess. I usually use the gates,though."

"Butto use the gates, you have to know where it is. You didn't recognizethe Forest, did you?"

Joyshook her head. "No. Not--not enough to use the gates. How doyoudo it?"

Freidafished a piece of chalk out of her pocket, and handed it to Joy."Hold the image in your mind. As real as you can make it."

Joynodded. She stood before the wall, eyes closed, her breathing slowingfor several long moments. Finally, she raised head, and her hand, andbegan drawing a door. It was a simple outline in chalk, and the topof it only went about six inches above Joy's head. Freida grimaced.She might have to duck, but Oliver--he might be more comfortable,anyway, crawling through than crouching through.

Aftera moment standing in front of a chalk drawing, Freida shook herselfand said, "Draw a doorknob. We have to be able to open thedoor."

Assoon as Joy lifted the chalk from the small circle she had drawn, ashining light suddenly glowed around the doorframe, and Joy grasped the doorknob, and opened the door toFaerie.

Thelight around them was thick and green, filtering through the leavesof the giant trees around them. Freida sighed, looking around. Thecolors were brighter, richer, here. There were shades and hues shecouldn't put a name to, in any human tongue, because they existedonly in Faerie. The lush, juicy smell of green leaves and black soilfilled her with every breath, as satisfying as a full meal.

Theyall breathed that sigh. No matter the unthinking cruelty of theMasters, no matter the daily torture for fun, for love, forcuriosity, Faerie was more beautiful, more real, than Terra couldever be. The Holding, located somewhere between the two worlds butpart of neither, could only ever be a pale reflection of the sheerwild glory of Faerie.

Theystood for several long moments, none of them speaking. Freida wasfilling her eyes and her lungs and her soulwith Faerie, and she knew the others were, too. As deadly dangerousas this place could be, it was part of what they were, aschangelings, part of them as surely as Terra was.

Finally,Joy moved, and her action seemed to free the others. Joy turned toFreida.

"Nowwhat?"

Freidashrugged. "It was your dream. You said the leaves and thornsstood out. Maybe you need to collect something?"

Joynodded slowly, and turned in a circle, surveying the Forest aroundthem. Freida noticed the moss and grass and wildflowers around Joygain more color, more vitality. Freida thought she could see theflowers grow.

Thecolors--the many unnameable shades of greenand blue and purple and white and yellow, and more unnameablecolors--grew in intensity as Joy continued her slow spinning, eyesclosed. Freida could feel the life filling the widening circle, thesap rushing in nearby stem and leaves and branches, thephotosynthesis creating the energy for new life, the unfurling ofleaves and petals. She closed her eyes and took a step back, dizzywith the sensation.

Thesudden snapsounded loud to Freida's ears. Oliver's and Aubrey's, too, shethought, from how they jumped.

Hereyes focused on Joy once more. Joy held a long, black thorn betweentwo delicate fingers, and she smiled at Freida, Oliver and Aubrey.

Freidahurried over, her eyes on Joy's hand. "You didn't scratchyourself, did you? You didn't poke yourself at all?"

Joyshook her head. "I was careful. Trust me, Freida, I know."She held the thorn out to Freida, who took it gingerly in her hand.Joy began rolling up the sleeve of her top, then held out her rightarm for Freida to see. Aubrey and Oliver drew nearer, one to eitherside of Freida. Her right side grew warm, almost toasty, while herleft side was soon chill.

Alongthe delicate underside of Joy's long forearm was a scar, the lengthof Freida's hand. It was white, and had healed neatly, but Freidafelt a ridge of scar tissue when she touched Joy's arm.

"Iwas unwary some years ago while hunting goblin fruit with a friend.It was fortunate for me that he had the analeptic gifts, for I mightnot have lived to get back to the Holding, else. It was alsofortunate that we had already gathered some goblin fruit, for one ofthose also helped my healing."

Freidalooked at Joy and nodded. She even found herself smiling at thewoman, which she had not expected to do. "Well, I also have theanaleptic gifts, so--be careful, but if you get hurt, I can help. Nogoblin fruits, though, and I don't care to stay here long enough tofind any. We have no idea what calls this area home."

Oliversaid, "Briarwolves. And I think there's an Axex, too. It lookslike there's a nest over there, anyway."

Freidalooked where Oliver pointed, but she couldn't see anything specialabout that particular bit of Forest. She shook her head. "I'mhappy enough to believe you, Oliver. I haven't a clue what an Axexnest looks like, but I'd rather not meet one. Shall we go?"

Theyturned to the door still open to the Holding, seemingly made of awall of Forest.

Oncethey had all left the shining green splendor of Faerie, they pausedin the Twilight Courtyard. The air smelled musty and old and used,the colors seemed dull, the scents faint. Each of them heaved a sigh.

Finally,Freida shut the door to Faerie and forced herself to concentrate ontheir tasks. She turned to Oliver. "Summer's next. CentralPark?"

Henodded.

"Nowwe use the gates. There's no point in opening a door when there'salready passage."

Theyleft the Courtyard, and found the gates. The gates were located in alarge room. They were actually doorways without door or wall,standing in a labyrinth in the room.

Fourpairs of shoes on the stone floor broke the silence of the room. Themarble walls were carved with scenes from both Terra and Faerie: NewYork City and London and Tokyo alternated with the goblin markets,the strange beasts, and the wild landscapes of Faerie.

Asidefrom all the doorways in the room, there were two entrances to theroom itself. They entered through the Terra Door.

Freidalooked up at Oliver. "Lead on."

Henodded, and led them to a doorway near the back of the room. Letteredacross the lintel was the phrase North America.

Theywalked through the doorway, and the others followed Oliver to adoorway marked East Coast. Through that door, they passed doorwayafter doorway, winding around them all. They passed doorways markedMaryland, Quebec, Rhodes Island, and more until the one labeledNew York was before them. The first doorway through that one was alsolabeled New York, and they didn't bother with any of the otherdoorways, leading to other cities in New York state. Once again,Oliver began hunting doorways. And muttering to himself.

Finally,he led them through a doorway whose label Freida missed, and the fourstumbled out of a small clump of trees in Central Park.

Joystarted laughing, and began spinning in a circle. Aubrey gazed aroundhimself, head cocked as though listening to something. Oliver grinnedfiercely, and sniffed the air.

Freidacontented herself with studying Central Park for a few moments. Shedidn't want to get distracted. But Terra could do that. Thoughwithout Faerie's grandeur and beauty, Terra had its own attractions:human emotion. It lay thick in the air, especially in cities,especially anywhere humans gathered and loved and lost and hated andfeared and felt.

Pullingherself away from the park and her thoughts, Freida turned to theothers, a small smile on her lips. She studied them for a moment.Here in Terra, humans could not see changelings for what they were.In Terra, changelings could see both the true form and what thehumans saw.

Forinstance, Oliver was a tall man with broad shoulders,a craggy face, and an eye patch covering one eye. Aubrey was slightand pale, with white-blond hair and ice-blue eyes, and she was surehis hands would still be cold, but no flakes of snow or ice adornedhis skin or hair or eyelashes. Joy was beautiful--the least changedof them all--with the meager beauty of Terra rather than theoverwhelming beauty of Faerie.

Freidadidn't waste time wondering what she looked like. "Oliver? Whereto?"

Helooked at her and nodded. The others looked him. He gestured. "Thisway."

Oliverled the way, and the others followed in silence. Freida, Aubrey andJoy exchanged wide-eyed glances, and Freida knew they were allwondering the same thing: was he going to kill and eat someone rightin front of them? Is that what his dream meant? Were they going tohave to witness, to take part in, one of Faerie's more brutal sides?

Freidawondered how they might stop him, if it came to that. She eyedOliver's huge arms, his massive legs. Though humans only saw a verylarge man, Oliver's actual strength was in no way diminished. Hecould probably hold all three of us down with one hand,she thought, eyeing his broad back.

Oliverled them through the park, almost as though he didn't know where theywere going either. The others just followed, hoping Oliver wouldn'tget them lost.

Asthey wound through the park, and Freida couldn't think of what to doif Oliver did attack someone, she found herself glancing at Joy moreand more--Aubrey seemed lost in his thoughts, but Joy glanced back atFreida with worry making her large eyes even larger, until they weredeep, shining pools.

Thetwo woman drew closer together and dropped back a little, speaking instrained whispers. "What do we do if. . . ?" "What canwe do?"

Theywere startled out of their tense discussion by a booming voice.

"Hey,Darian!"

Thewomen looked up, looked around, and saw Oliver approach a man with afood cart.

"Hey,Oliver! How's it going?" The man--Darian--began fixing up whatlooked like a gyro, and handed it to Oliver as the human and thechangeling continued to talk, though more quietly than before.

Finally,Oliver returned with a package in his hand. He grinned at them. "Allright. We're good to go."

Freidablinked. "What is it?"

"Lamb."He unwrapped a bit of the package to show the others fresh, bloodymeat. "It's probably more than we need, but that's okay. I'mhungry. You guys want any?"

"No,thank you." Joy sounded prim, but under that--relieved. Freidajust shook her head.

**************************************************************

Backin the Holding, Freida held up a piece of chalk, and began drawing adoor, going as high up as she could, concentrating on the image fromher dreams, the tall hill and the even taller tree--standing on thehill looking down and down, and looking up and up at the tree.

Shedrew the doorknob and opened the door onto a tall, tall hill. Belowthem, she could see vast, dark forests, a blue river, white-cappedmountains in the distance, and a castle with a village nearby. Freidawhipped around, facing the tree as Oliver came out last, ducking hishead to get through her door.

"Quick!Close the door, but not all the way. There's a castle, and a village,to the south of the hill, so we need to stay on the north side. Wecannot let them see us."

Oliverdid as she asked, leaving the bark door ajar, and they all trooped tothe other side of the tree.

"Sowhat's the big deal," Joy demanded. "Why are we hiding froma village?"

"InFaerie," Freida finished for her. "The village is inFaerie, and we are changelings."

Joyfrowned. "But it's--a village. Sure, the castle might have aFae, but--"

Freidacut her off. "Even if there's only one Fae down there, who doyou think the others are? Happy little humans who chose to be thereand could leave when they want? Or slaves and thralls to the Fae wholive in the castle? Or maybe They're all Fae, playing at village lifefor a while, until They get bored. I don't want to risk it. I don'twant to go back to that kind of life. Do you?"

Joyshook her head, silent.

Freidaturned away, trying to look around, to find what she needed to findso they could get out, but her insides were quivering. She hatedbeing so close to what she was sure was a horde of the Others, readyto swarm this hill at a moment's notice, to snatch the changelings upfor experiments she couldn't even remember anymore, except in quickflashes of nightmares that woke her, screaming. She couldn't closeher eyes again after dreams like those, because the flashes wouldreplay themselves over and over on the screen of her eyelids if shedid. Instead, she had to get up, and distract herself in some wayuntil it was light outside. She could sometimes go back to sleepthen.

Freidatook a deep breath and pushed it all away, all thoughts, emotions,memories, just as if she had had one of those nightmares. She forcedherself to concentrate on the problem at hand, as she would forceherself to concentrate on one of her magical experiments.

Therewas nothing in the immediate vicinity but the tree. She looked up andup, and found herself looking at branches that could have beendesigned for climbing. Perhaps they had been. She continued lookingup, and saw the fruit. Perfectly round and a brilliant, almostglowing, red, she knew it was goblin fruit immediately.

"Waithere," she said, not taking her eyes off the fruit. "Stayout of sight."

Freida began to climb, using the branches almost like a ladder. There was alwaysone that was a good height, though she had to turn around, weavingback and forth, to go up. That was a good thing. She had no desire toclimb up the tree in sight of the castle below.

Aftera while, she glanced down, only a little surprised to see the othersso far below. The goblin fruit above her looked only a little closerthan it had before she started climbing.

Shedidn't know how long she climbed. The changelings were out of sightfirst, then the outskirts of the village started to fade, but thefruit only seemed a little closer. The sun above the hill didn'tmove, so she couldn't be sure how much time was passing.

Freidastopped, frowning at the tree. There had to be a trick to it. Shetried climbing down. That didn't help. She turned around, and triedclimbing up backwards. That terrified her, though, and didn't seemany different from climbing up the normal way.

Finally,remembering something that had surely been inspired by Faerie and itsdenizens, she began walking in place, pantomiming climbing. She didnot feel secure enough to try running in place, as the Red Queen hadtold Alice.

Butsuddenly the goblin fruit was in reach. She kept walking in place,examining the fruit. Some of the goblin fruit--fruit, or sometimesother plant parts, that grew in Faerie and had magicalproperties--some healed, some gifted invisibility, some magnified orgranted magical abilities, some poisoned.

Shewas not familiar with this particular fruit, but there were so manythat knowing them all would be impossible. Freida hesitated, thenpulled a tissue from her pocket, loath to touch the fruit with herbare hands. The tissue-wrapped fruit went into her shirt-pocket,where she hoped it would be safe, and then Freida began to climbdown.

Theclimb down went much faster than the climb up, and in no time at all,she found herself dropping out of the tree in front of the others.

"Gotit," she said softly.

Olivernodded. Joy and Aubrey were peering around the trunk of the tall,tall tree. Freida glanced at them, then back at Oliver with hereyebrows lifted.

Hisvoice rumbled, but more quietly than she would have thought he couldhave. "They saw some movement down there. We're hoping we'll beable to get out of here without attracting notice."

Freidanodded, looking at the tree. Her door was on the other side, in fullview of the village and the castle.

"Whatdo you see," she whispered to Joy and Aubrey.

Withoutmoving, Aubrey answered in a whisper she could barely hear. "There'speople in the fields. And on the castle walls. There's no reason tothink they might be looking up here, but there's also no reason tothink that if one of them got one glimpse of us, they wouldn't all beon us like a flash."

"Sofar, we haven't really been able to tell much," Joy saidquietly, "because we're so far away. I can't make out features,or even if I'm looking at someone's face or someone's hair."

Freidanodded, looking over Joy's shoulder, far, far below. "We have tochance it. The door's still ajar. We just rush through." Shepaused, then said to Aubrey's back, "We have to chance it.Finding a trod from here that will get us home at all, let alonebefore the Courts go to war will be difficult to impossible."

Aubreydrew back and nodded at her, his icy eyes determined, and haunted.Freida sighed, and turned to Joy. "I'm sorry I snapped at youearlier. We're all on the same side, here. We have to be. I--"

"Iunderstand, Freida. We all have our demons."

Freidashook her head. "I know you understand. And I'm sorry."

Joysmiled, and for the first time, it seemed that her unearthly beautytouched Freida, warmed her, included her. Then Joy reached out andhugged Freida.

Freidapulled away, but smiled at Joy. "Okay. If we give Aubrey thethings we've found, and have him go through first, we have the bestchance of doing the thing we came here to do." She held out thetissue-wrapped fruit to Aubrey, but he didn't take it.

"Whatam I supposed to do with it all?"

Freidashrugged. "It was your dream. You'll figure it out. Like therest of us have. Besides, it's only a contingency plan. Hopefully,we'll all make it out behind you."

Oliverheld out the wrapped-up lamb, a noticeablysmaller package than before. "She's right. I'll be last."He glanced at the rest of them, slender, brittle Aubrey, slim,delicate Joy, and though Freida was tall and strong, she knew she hadan insubstantial quality, a feeling of not being quite there.

"I'mthe only one who can hold off any attack, if they do spot you goingthrough."

Freidanodded. "I'll be second-to-last. I can perform any chirugeryneeded."

Joysighed and threw up her hands. "Fine. Let's do it." Shecarefully fished the thorn out of her pocket.

Aubreytook the collection from the others, a scowl on his face. "I'llstand guard in the Holding, just in case--in case we need to cut offthe entrance from invasion."

Freidanodded. "Okay. We're ready to go." Her heart pounded asthey crept around the trunk of the tall, tall tree in single file.Her eyes were glued to the southern horizon.

Aubreyslipped through the door, leaving it open wider for Joy. As soon ashe moved, though, Freida saw that the people--slaves or Masters--tooknotice.

"Quick,"she hissed, and Joy scurried to the door.

Whatseemed a swarm of creatures began climbing the hill, faster thanFreida could believe.

Shefelt a little shove in the small of her back, and heard Oliver'srough voice. "Go!"

Sheran through the door, into the Holding. She joined Aubrey behind thedoor, ready to shove it shut immediately. Joy stood near thedoorjamb, to give warning, or to watch. Freida wasn't sure.

"Oliver!"Joy's face was white, her hands reaching out. She stepped toward thedoorway.

"Joy!Is he coming?"

Sheglanced at Aubrey, and her gaze could have frozen him. "He'scoming. Wait." She turned back to the scene beyond the door."Oliver! Hurry!"

Suddenly,Oliver's back appeared in the doorway. He backed up, throwingsomething out into Faerie' then collapsed into the Holding. Aubreyand Freida pushed the door closed, and Freida brushed at the chalkoutline, erasing the door.

Theyturned to Oliver. Joy was kneeling beside him, checking for wounds.Freida squatted on the other side of him, opposite Joy. She smiled atOliver. "Are you hurt?"

Hesmiled back, and slapped Joy's hands away, though Freida noted theaffection in the smile he gave Joy. He sat up. "Nothing worthmentioning. Joy, I'm fine.Stop fussing. It was a bunch of spriggans--nasty bastards, but theycouldn't do much more than try to slow me down for the Others."

Freidanodded and stood smoothly. "Then let's finish this."

**************************************************************

TheHolding was dark. Lughnasadh, the day that the Autumn Court wouldtake over leadership of the Holding, was an hour old. There were nopeople in the halls that Aubrey led the others through.

Freidatook up the rear, watching Joy and Oliver walk arm in arm. Freida wasreminded of that children's movie--Oliver wasn't a Beast, precisely,but he dwarfed Joy in every dimension, and she was certainly aBeauty. After they had been ramblingthrough the halls of the Holding for half an hour, and they werebeginning to double back on themselves, Freida hurried up to walkwith Aubrey.

"Howare you doing?"

Heglanced at her and shook head. "It's no good, Freida. I don'tknow where I'm supposed to go. I don't know what I'm supposed to dothere--am I supposed to collect something? and if so, what then? Whatare we supposed to do with this stuff?" He gestured to his shirtpocket, which bulged. "The smell of that meat--it's not going tolast forever, you know."

Freidanodded. "Give me my fruit. And you can hand back the otherthings if you want."

Aubreyglanced over his shoulder. "Nah. No need to disturb them."

Freidasmiled. "Well, give me mine, at least. I need to figure out whatit is. Did you--in your dream--did you see any kind of rhyme orreason or pattern to the rooms flashing about?"

Hehanded her the tissue-wrapped fruit, and walked in silence forseveral long moments. "Maybe. . . ."

Freidastudied the fruit in her hand, following Aubrey by watching out ofher peripheral, until she felt his cold grip on her arm. She lookedup into his icy eyes.

"You'llbe left behind. Come on." He didn't let go of her arm, but ledher gently forward, though at a faster pace than before.

Shecaught his eyes one more time before lapsing back into study,confident that Aubrey would continue to guide her.

Withouther equipment--which was in her room in the western wing--she couldonly rely on her senses. She sniffed the fruit, and remembered herclimb up and up. She touched the red ball, hoping it wasn't poison.She didn't think it was, but she couldn't be certain. She probed thefruit delicately with her mind or her magic, trying to understand theplant's magical properties.

Herdelicate probe was hurtled back at her, and Freida stumbled. Aubrey'sgrip on her arm held her upright. She wasstill blinking black flecks out of her vision when Aubrey's voicereached her ears.

".. . are you all right? Freida?"

Freidafound herself looking into Aubrey's eyes. He was holding her up, sherealized, and she let him help her regain her balance.

"Thanks.I'm--I think I know what this is. I--where are we?" Freidalooked around, but she didn't recognize the small room. There werefour chairs, carved and gilded and cushioned with velvet. They lookedlike thrones. There were moonshadows all over the room, enough forshapes and some detail.

Aubreyturned his head to face the room, but that was all. "It's ameeting room for the Court's rulers. Somewhere they can meet todiscuss the Holding. I guess. This is where the trail led."

"Whattrail?" Freida frowned at the room. Joy was walking slowlyaround the room, and Oliver was checking the doors.

"Youwere engrossed, weren't you?" Aubrey smiled down at her. "Ihave some natural talent when it comes to magical residue--look, itdoesn't matter. The spell was cast here. That's what my dream led meto."

Freidalooked around sharply. Oliver approached. "The entrances areclear. No one nearby."

Aubreynodded. "Good. Now all we have to figure out is what to dohere."

"Aubrey?Where does the trail lead? Is there any one point, in the room?"Freida held the fruit delicately between two long fingers, carefulnot to break the skin.

Aubreyheld his head to one side, as though listening. Finally, he pointedto the center of the room. He walked forward, then sank into one ofthe chairs.

"Here.In the center of the chairs."

Freida,Joy and Oliver followed Aubrey to the chairs. Joy glanced at thechairs, then sank down in the one on Aubrey's left. She patted thechair next to her, across from Aubrey and said, "Oliver, comesit."

Shebeckoned Freida to take the chair across from her, and when Freidawas near, she looked at the carvings, of autumn leaves, squashes andgourds and apples and pomegranates, then looked at the seatingarrangement and laughed softly.

"Theymust sit at court like this, in seasonal procession." Freidasat, and began studying the area before her. The rug caught herinterest after a moment. She knelt on the floor and reached out ahand, feeling the rug. In the very center, she felt a bump, almost afold in the fabric, but she could only see smooth fabric. She wentback to the edge just in front of her, noticing the ripple that hadcaught her eye even when she didn't know why.

Freidabegan to roll the rug up, and suddenly there was a small bundle ofherbs on the floor just under the center of the rug. Freida didn'ttouch it, merely studied it, and when Joy reached down to pick it up,Freida swatted her hand away.

"Holdon." She held her hand up to Aubrey and said, "The thorn?Can I have it?"

Heplaced the thorn gingerly in her hand, and she used the six-inch longspike to probe the bundle. After a few minute's study, she looked up.

"Oliver?"Freida's eyes flicked from Oliver to Aubrey to the thorn in her hand,and back to Oliver. Aubrey nodded to her, and handed Oliver thepacket of bloody meat.

Freidapointed at the bundle of herbs. "Don't touch it. There's a runetied in there and several unpleasant herbs. It is meant to createchaos. Place the meat on the bundle. Blood is required to break thespell."

Oliverunwrapped the bit of lamb, and placed one strip along the bundle ofherbs, his large fingers shaking slightly with the effort ofprecision.

Freidanodded. "My berry is not something I've seen before, but Ibelieve it disrupts magic. It needs the blood to magnify itsproperties, though, because it's not strong enough by itself."She placed the berry atop the meat, then held it there when it wantedto roll off.

Withher other hand, Freida held the thorn out to Joy. "Bind it alltogether. You want to pierce the berry, the meat, and the bundle."

Joytook a deep breath, slid to the floor, and lightly pressed the pointof the thorn into the flesh of the berry. A drop of deep purple juicesqueezed out of the fruit, and ran down the side of it, mixed withthe lamb's blood, and soaked into the bundle of herbs.

Shelet out a breath, adjusted the position of the thorn, and pushed itdownward in one quick, savage thrust.

Freidapulled her hand away from the thorn, and wiped her fingers on theunderside of the rug. She didn't know if she had juice or blood onher hand, but she didn't want it there, and she couldn't lick it off.

Joyleaned back against her chair and said shakily, "Well? Is itdone? What do we do now?"

Freidalooked around her and shook her head. "I think it's done. Wewon't know until tomorrow." The pained expression on Joy's facemade her smile, but Aubrey and Oliver both looked grim. She nodded."Let's go to the western wing. We should be able to figure outif it worked by talking to some people."

Shestood, and they filed out of the room silently. Joy and Oliver heldhands as they walked, but Aubrey was padding along silently behindeveryone else. Freida wasn't sure what it meant, she turned back tothe front of the group with a frown. She led the way though it wasn'tneeded.

Theyreached the entrance to the western wing, and the others held back.Freida opened the door. "What? There's no rule about not havingguests from different Courts. You're under my protection."

Joynodded, and led Oliver by the hand through the door. Aubrey followed,continuing to hang back. Freida couldn't hang back to join him, tosee what's wrong, because Joy and Oliver were following her. So sheled the way to the Mirrored Courtyard, where about half of her Courtwere busy enjoying themselves, drinking mead and fairy wine, andeating fruit, cheese, bread, and delicacies from Faerie.

Immediately,Freida could feel the difference in the air, and she found her friendLinnet, who was listening to Roger--probablyabout his wines and meads,Freida thought, her heart lightening.

Shesmiled at Linnet, who immediately greeted her. "Freida! Thankthe gods! I mean--" she glanced at Roger, "It's good to seeyou!"

Freidagrinned. "Talking your ear off?" She grinned at Roger, too,who smiled sheepishly back.

"Sowhat's this about?" Freida gestured to the party, taking it allin.

"KingAlexis sent the food and drink over for some reason." Linnetlooked around, confused. "You know, the last little while iskind of blurry. Well, probably there's some political gain in it, buttonight we have a party. Who are your friends?"

Linnetgestured to Joy and Oliver, and Aubrey behind her. Frieda smiled andgestured to them to come closer. "It's okay, guys," shesaid over her shoulder. "It's okay."

My goal for today ...

2012-01-11T15:14:00.000-07:00

... is to finish Story #1. I'm pretty close, I think. I hope.
I've already written 1000+ words today, and I'm going strong. The story is also over 7,500 words, which according to some people means that it's officially no longer a short story, and is in fact a novelette.
It's possible this will happen to all my stories, but I hope to be able to write at least a few short stories.

Also, I'd like to report that my writing speed this week is up 200 words/hour. Last week I managed about 2.6K in 7.5 hours, and when I broke for lunch today, I had written about 5K in 9 hours (this week). (BTW, my "writing weeks" run from Friday to Thursday, so i can brag about how many hours I've written in the past week at my Thursday-night writing group.)
So, anyway, that's a jump from about 350 words/hour to about 550 words/hour.
My goal is to get back to at least my Qwerty speed, which during November was about 400 words in 15 minutes. So, I still have a way to go, but I'm hopeful.

Back to work.

Some Successes

2012-01-06T22:00:00.000-07:00

Short Story Challenge
I just wrote 1300+ words in less than two and a half hours! Today was certainly a successful day, but I've written every day since the first, and I generally feel pretty good about what I'm doing.
I did have a moment yesterday or the day before where I was remembering my Sliders fanfic fondly, and thinking that might be something I should start up again, and maybe even do a cross-over with Doctor Who.
Anyway, I was thinking about all this, and I suddenly realized that I was scared. Of writing salable stories. And self-publishing them. And putting them on my blog.
So I said to myself, "That's a great idea ... but maybe later." And I kept working on my stories. So I'm scared. But, as Alanis (who is God) says, "The only way out is through". The only way out of the fear is to live through it. So that's what I'm planning on doing.

Exercise Challenge
Aside from walking (downhill) to work today, between writing sessions, I pulled out my yoga mat and tried to do plank pose, which is really hard:
I could only hold it about ten seconds.
I also found my five-pound weights, and held them while moving my arms slowly. It wasn't much, but I feel better for having done a non-zero amount of exercise, yay.

Challenge updates

2012-01-04T12:17:00.001-07:00

Short Story Challenge
I've been writing every day since Sunday, for at least an hour. I have the beginning of a short story that will be one in a series of four--and I'm excited about that. And writing ties directly into:

Dvorak Challenge
On Sunday, I typed for an hour and a half, and I wrote 307 words. Today, I worked for an hour, and produced 500 words. Back in November, when I was writing like mad and using QWERTY, I could write about 400 words in a 15 minute sprint. So, I still have a ways to go, but I feel confident. I want to get back up to speed, and I want more 8-hour writing days (I never wrote for eight hours straight; I just did sprints, and took breaks, and sometimes took walks, and came back, ready to pound out more words.

Exercise Challenge
Not so great. I did walk around our block (uphill about half the time, and downhill and level-ish the rest of the time) for half an hour, and I only had to suck on my inhaler 2 or 3 times. My goal is to do that without the inhaler, of course.
But that's it. Well--I did walk to and from work a couple times this week (no buses over the holiday, including Monday, which I thought was extra rude).
But I also just finished a (completely delicious) grilled bacon-and-cheese sandwich, with a glass of orange juice, because I felt guilty. So, you know.
But I'm walking to work today, in just a few minutes (which is why I only wrote for an hour today).

Anyway, more later!

Challenges and goals

2011-12-31T21:46:00.002-07:00

It's the last day of 2011, so I thought I'd post my challenges for 2012 ...

Short Story Challenge
I mentioned this earlier, so I'll be brief: my challenge for 2012 is to write and publish 50 stories in a year, based on a title. I will post them here, and then publish each story as the next is ready.

Comic Challenge
The Comic Challenge is to draw and publish three comic pages per week, for Grim Tales. My ideal situation would be to draw page 1 on Monday, and publish it on Wednesday, also drawing page 2. Etc.

Writing Challenge
My Writing Challenge was originally stated to be "continuing with my normal writing stuff" ... so, that means: continuing to send the stories I wrote this year to magazines; finishing and publishing Lifechanger, and working on my school-girl demon-hunter novel; and participating in challenges like NaNoWriMo, NaPoWriMo, (possibly) Screnzy, etc.

Weight Challenge
I think this might be more properly called "The Exercise Challenge", but weight is an obvious thing to measure. Since starting my anti-depressant, I have been less depressed and gaining weight. I didn't really notice until two or three months ago that I was about 30 pounds heavier than I'd thought I was.
So, I want to exercise and try to lose those 30 pounds again. Starting weight is 200lbs. I'll attempt to post updates about exercise attempts and successes.

Dvorak Challenge
I recently taped the Dvorak layout to my keyboard ... it's being a slow process, learning the layout. I'm somewhat worried about how this will affect my writing speed, so my challenge is to learn the layout, and possibly even learn to properly type it.

Okay, that's what I've got for now. I'll sign off now to enjoy my new year's eve.

I have an agent! Woot!

2011-12-08T11:21:00.001-07:00

That's right, dear readers! I have an agent, who doesn’t require a contract, thinks I’m great, and won’t do one thing to manage my career ... and allegedly makes great popcorn. I can't verify this last claim, because of what happens to popcorn when it gets emailed.
He urges me to fire him, but I just haven't been able to decide ... He seems pretty perfect.

Go read Passive Guy's blog. Let me know what you think.
And read the comments--some of them are priceless!

Sick

2011-12-02T13:30:00.001-07:00

I'm not feeling well. Sore throat, super-tired ,,, I'll probably sleep a lot today. Not that I really had other plans: I switched my work schedule so I could go to this Yule party/wedding reception tonight, so I don't work today, and I might have tried finishing the novella today, but that's really it. That or harvest more titles from the NaNo adoptables thread. I already have more than I could possibly use in one lifetime, but, you know, a few more couldn't hurt, right?

Anyway, I'll probably take a nap for a while, and then see how I'm doing. I would like to write a little or do some work today if I can ... but for now, it's time to sleep.

Castle

2011-11-30T23:25:00.000-07:00

As a writer, I really like shows/movies that feature writers. Stranger Than Fiction was fantastic, and I really ought to own it. There was another movie whose title I can't remember (it involved two people's names, and I just can't remember their names) that was pretty good.
But Castle, now. I love Castle. It's a show about a genre-savvy murder mystery writer who solves crimes with his knowledge of genre and story. It's amazing.
I love it.

Anyway, I'm still watching the first season--though I'm nearly done--and I'm a little pissed that I didn't start watching earlier, so that I could be caught up before the current season started. Alas ... I should be caught up by next season ...

Short Story Challenge!

2011-11-30T12:28:00.001-07:00

Sort of like a New Years' resolution. Dean Wesley Smith inspired me to challenge myself in 2012. Paraphrasing his example (100 stories in one year), I will challenge myself to write 50 stories in one year. I will also take his example of writing them from titles, but instead of looking at books and short stories for my titles, I've got a huge list of adoptable titles from the NaNo forums.
I'm not sure yet how I'll choose--I might print out a list of titles and find some way (darts?) to choose at random; I might print out a list, cut it into bits, put them into a large bowl or something, and choose a new title out of the bowl; I might just pick a handful and make a poll on the blog for my readers to choose from. I may do a mix of all three ...
Regardless, I will strive to write, publish, and make a cover for 50 stories (that's about a story a week, which terrifies me), in addition to my regular writing (novels and novellas), NaNoWriMo, and attempting to do a blog post at least once per week.
So, there's that.

In other news, I finished NaNoWriMo, getting to 50,171 words before I went to be last night--and I'm not planning on writing any fiction today--I'll do a little work, including this blog, and maybe working on some kind of system for my Challenge--lists of names, titles, etc., just so I don't have to think about names, etc., for too long and can hopefully have the next title stewing my brain before I have to jump into it.
Then it will be food and decompression time: an episode of Castle or Doctor Who, something warm to eat, (dark) chocolate (almond) milk ... yum.

NaNo is Saving My Life

2011-11-19T21:04:00.001-07:00

I've been wanting to be a writer, an author for a very long time. In the last couple years, I've been very serious about that, trying to improve my writing through critique groups and reading about writing. The last few months, I've been getting serious about being published and being read, reading blogs about publishing, looking into self-publishing and e-readers--my writing group started a publishing company.
But through all that, I wondered. I wondered if the freelancing life was for me. Especially when I started reading about it. I wondered if I had the temperament, the drive, the love required to be a full-time writer, a full-time freelancer.
Then, for those not up on my personal life: I got married, which involved a fair amount of stress, and a lot of not doing anything but work, wedding planning, and trying to eat and sleep enough. The wedding was fabulous, and once I'd recovered (mostly, slept), and my husband (!) had gone back to work, I still had a few days of not-working. And NaNo was upon us! (We got weddinged on 11/5.)
So I started writing.
I started writing a lot, because I was about 6 days behind (and I've only gained one day on that). I did start work again recently, but my days off have become freelancing days, full-time writing days.
And you know what?
I love it. I absolutely love waking up, eating breakfast and then writing. I've been giving myself 1,000-word marathons: after 1,000 words, I am allowed to get up, refill my water bottle and/or tea mug, go to the bathroom, eat some food, stretch, etc. Sometimes I take walks or clean a small part of the house in between, just to do something physical.
Can I tell you how crazy that is for me? I hate doing physical stuff--but then, I'm usually exhausted from the whole work-day thing, and all I want when I'm home is to hole up and read or watch Dr. Who/Community/Castle/House/Bones/Dead Like Me/etc.
But now that I'm holed up in my office all day, writing, anything is possible. I finally cleaned the living room--not entirely, but a lot better than it had been--which I'd been avoiding all month. And I cleaned rather than go for a walk because the weather turned nasty yesterday, and I'm not sure my boots have dried from it yet.

So, anyway--every day that I devote to writing is another day that confirms my desire to write full-time, to be a freelance writer. This last week or two (with occasional interruptions from the working world and other things) have been amazing.

And then, because I've been meaning to do this, I present pictures of my office:

Posters, left to right: Emilie Autumn's against animal cruelty "Rats aren't creepy. Experimenting on the IS."; Alice in Wonderland I won at the CONduit Art Auction; EA's painting that I got with VIP tickets to see her at her last show.
The black-and-white orbs adorned the reception, and they also fit the Feng Shui of the office (black is good for Career, White for Creativity--plus the good energy they got from being part of the wedding? Perfect!), so I added them.
The notes under the rat painting: my goal to make a living with my writing, and three quotes that give me good feelings.

The place where the magic happens: my padded chair, my desk lamp, my little paper-stand, great for typing in hand-written stories/scenes/notes, and, of course, my netbook (Elizabeth Bathory). Also a candle and my water bottle, and my mp3 player (Hathor), which has been a little under the weather lately.


Behind my chair, my printer, my Heterodyne Coffee "Spark Roast" poster (It's Perfection in every cup!), and below all that is the round black cushion (very good Feng Shui) where my cats sometimes sleep ... when they don't want to climb up on my lap, which, by the way, is where Elizabeth Bathory usually goes. Of course.

Anyway, this space is wonderful--though I'm thinking of expanding it enough for a bookshelf--to store my writing books. My journals, and a few low-circulation magazines that I've been published in (like my high school's art & literature magazines) are kept above the desk--you can see them at the top of the first picture. But I'd still like to keep my writing books nearby.

Anyway, I'm very close to being halfway through the challenge (though I'll probably save that for tomorrow, since it's getting a little late), and every day that I "sit down at the keyboard and give it everything I have" is a Really Good Day. (That's one of my quotes on my wall.)
Love you all! Time to eat, and watch Castle, or maybe House or Bones ...

11/11/11

2011-11-11T23:35:00.001-07:00

11/11/11, a set on Flickr.

I waited all day to post this. Maybe I should have started sooner. The second 11:11 has just passed, alas. Well, here we go:
Today, on 11/11/11, at 11:11(am), we (me, Holly, Beverly) had elevensies at 11th S and 11th E while wearing eleven article of clothing. There were eleven people on the corner, and our meal consisted of eleven pieces of food. (Yes, there were eleven elevens in those two sentences.)
The Flickr set (above) consists of eleven of the photos I took today. They don't all contain elevens (that I know of--I need to check a couple of the crazy-people photos), but they celebrate the day's festivities.
We visited all four 11-11 locations: 1100 South/1100 East (at 11:11, there was a party there); 1100 South/1100 West (the only location with a house numbered 1100 on 1100); 1100 West/1100 North (the doghouse was approximately at 1100), and 11th Ave/1100 East (the cemetery--there isn't an 1100 North that far east).

That's what I did today. Oh, and I wrote a little.

Suddenly depressed.

2011-09-25T01:06:00.000-06:00

If I fail to write in my journal, or to update my blog, for a sufficiently long period of time, I start to avoid it, because I feel embarrassed about leaving it alone for so long. Or I feel overwhelmed by all the things I haven't written about, or I just feel like I can't think of anything to say. This, of course, compounds the issue.
Earlier today I decided to write in my blog, but I think trying to figure out how to start pushed me in the direction of being overwhelmed, because I suddenly felt depressed. (That and Dylan calling to say that he was having fun and hanging out with people and eating, so I guess that means I have to figure out dinner by myself, and get to sit here by myself until he gets home. I'm even in a somewhat social mood, having spent an hour or so hanging out with a few pagans--and in conversation with one I'd just met for a good deal of that time. Me being actively social happens so rarely ... )
Anyway, I almost left the blog post alone. We're singing in the morning, and Dylan and I are part of the contingent that will be spending the first part of the morning at San Esteban's, doing some kind of an outreach or interfaith community sort of thing: our church (the UU church) and theirs (an Hispanic Presbyterian church? don't remember) are doing community stuff, and that includes our choirs singing together. Anyway, it's way west and a fair bit south, so we'll have to leave even earlier than we normally would on a Sunday morning, and that have been as good excuse as any to go to bed without writing anything.

Now I'm just not sure what to say. I can think of things, but I'd like to save most of them for their own topics. So I guess I'll sign off, eat some dinner, and sleep. And tomorrow I'll wake up, sing, and probably go straight to work for eight-and-a-half hours. Yay ...
Not for the first time, I wish I had internet access at work.

grim tales: ashputtel

2011-08-13T11:18:00.058-06:00

I've mentioned it here before, my desire to create a webcomic. Well, it's finally happened. Inspired by a truly awesome Cinderella story written by a friend of mine, I bought crayons and a pad of paper and starting drawing.
I've been meaning to update the blog about the presence of my comic for a while, but I just haven't gotten around to it till now. (And, I've been putting it on Facebook .... so, I'm not sure anyone who knows me doesn't know about my webcomic, but I still wanted to actually announce it on my blog before sending "Page Up!" updates.

Anyway, here's my fancy comic announcement! (And I worked bloody hard for the thing, too: this would have been posted an hour ago, if the fancy comic announcement had been less persnickety.)

Grim Tales: a crayon-and-stick-figure comic about faerie tales!

Chapter 1 is Ashputtel, the German/Brothers Grimm version of Perrault's Cinderella. If I can figure out how to do it, I might take votes for which story Chapter 2 will be ... my current inclination is Red Riding Hood, but I'm open to suggestions.

However, that means: tell your friends! If I run a poll, and only get two votes, I'll be mighty embarrassed ... plus, I might be forced into doing something boring, like The Frog Prince.

Sewing Update

2011-08-02T01:00:00.001-06:00

Today, I did not work, and I didn't have anywhere else to be. So I spent all day working on sewing. First thing: I decided to go with the "cool thing", which is three pieces instead of one or two. All my corsets so far have been one-piece, with one set of ties in the back. Theoretically, making a "pair of bodies" (lacing in back and front) shouldn't be that much harder, but I've never done it.
Cutting the "front" piece from the "side" pieces (and then adjusting them so that I could wear the whole thing) actually wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. I didn't have to rip that many seams, because the stitch holders fit perfectly into the boning channels ...
I added an extra boning channel per side piece, and here we go:


Look: three pieces! With holes for ribbons (also spiral lacing ... )

I used to cut the zip-ties with tin snips. You'd think those would work well, being made for cutting metal, and I'm cutting plastic and all. But what really happened was that I had to close the tin snips as tight as I could around the plastic, hold that for a minute, then take the zip tie out and turn it around, and cut the other side. Usually, I could then bend the piece of zip-tie back and forth until it snapped, but sometimes I needed to go back over them with the tin snips.
I bought a PVC cutter, after borrowing a friend's, and holy gods, does it make my life so much easier. I figure out where I want to cut, put it in the cutter, and snip! I have two pieces. It's an amazing piece of equipment.

The PVC cutter that has made corsetry amazingly easy ... cutting bones the old way SUCKED.

And now we have the corset, bones in place (look at the shadows; they're made from the bones). Yay! It only took me one day (less than that, because I spent the morning reworking the corset and adding stitch markers) to cut and place all the bones. (I am nearly out of my zip-ties, too. I need another trip to Ace Hardware before my next project. I get the ridiculously long 48" zip-ties because I get more boning for less money.)


Look! Bones! In channels! And cut to length!

Tomorrow, I will cut the pretty fabric. I'll probably use the sewing machine a little there, to just sew a couple straight lines along the side edges to hold the fabric in place, but after that, the sewing machine can go back to its storage shelf (it would be really nice if I actually had shelf space for the creature).
I envision going to gaming tomorrow night with corset-pieces, ribbon, a needle and some thread--placing the fabric and sewing the ribbon trim around the edges is all I have left to do. (Well, I'm going to have to figure out straps, but that's part of cutting the fabric--and, actually, I just had an idea that might make the strap-situation a LOT easier .... )

Sewing Project

2011-08-01T03:05:00.001-06:00

I started working on the wedding corset last night after work, and continued this morning before work.
Before I left for work, I completed this:


The corset "shell"--the denim lining that will hold the boning.

I read a lot of stuff before starting to work, and contrary to what I read, corset-making isn't difficult, but a lot of it is time-consuming. It took me all "morning" (I woke up at 1pm) to get the boning channels sewn. Three hours, then, since I showered at 4pm before eating and heading to work.
Oh, and please note the lacing--spiral lacing, and it's period. (I'm not actually a period Nazi (denim interior, plastic bones), but I take pleasure in doing things in the period way, when I can--for instance, I won't be using grommets. I buy plastic (not-period) stitch markers (for knitting and crocheting), and set those between the two denim layers, and hold them in place with a few stitches until it's basically done. Then I do the period thing and stitch buttonhole style around them to hold them in place. It's sturdy (grommets pull out sometimes) and it looks good (and period!).)

A close-up of the shell, an example "bone" (zip-tie) and the yummy fabric I bought as a remnant and didn't realize was so yummy until after I brought it home and opened it ...

Tomorrow, I will begin cutting the two outer fabrics--ever since coming upon the theory (at my first real CONduit) of reversible corsets, I haven't seen the point of a non-reversible one. So, instead of the pretty fabric and the lining, I'll be doing two outer fabrics. The purple pictured above is for the wedding. The black-and-red not pictured will just be for whenever.
AND, I have an idea for something that would look cool, but require more work ... so, we'll see.

Anyway, it's late, and I should go to bed.

fireworks

2011-07-24T16:24:00.001-06:00

fireworks, a set on Flickr.

Following the ancient tradition of blowing stuff up on my birthday … well, a few days late. Some of the pictures are completely crazy, and some of them actually look like fireworks.

Fireworks & Experimentation

2011-07-24T15:42:00.002-06:00

It's been a tradition the last few years to blow shit up on my birthday. Because I love fireworks. Though aerial fireworks are now legal in Utah, I didn't know a good place offhand to light them, so I stuck with the little ones.

Edit: I'm experimenting with various social media thingies, like Ping.fm, and Pixelpipe (which is not as useful as I'd hoped, especially since their auto-rotate feature is a lie), so apologies to all, there will be some weirdnesses, and probably have been some weirdnesses, which I am trying to clean up.

I think I'm figuring stuff out, and we'll see how Flickr does (I'll be posting more pictures in a minute from Flickr), but I'm hoping to sort the weirdnesses out ...

AoE, how I missed thee ...

2011-07-24T05:13:00.002-06:00

Yes, I stayed up until 5am playing Age of Empires--and it was SUCH a satisfying win! I LOVE playing the Spanish, because I LOVE the Army of Monks (no, not the Army of Mooks), and I love converting all my enemies rather than killing them (and they kept sending me monks to convert, too; how nice of them), and then having my gunpowder units blowing up the buildings and, in this case, the godsdamn ships. I also, of course, had a bunch of trebs or other siege engines. It was a blast.
I think my favorite part, though, was that it was me and the computer (two civilizations only), and I accidentally left the computer as my Ally ... which meant that I built my army in peace, and then sent them over there, and set my status to Neutral (and later Enemy), and for the first bit, he couldn't attack back, because he had me set as Ally ...
Oh how I love razing towns that can't defend themselves.
But it was satisfying, in that he did eventually start fighting back, and it was close. He razed one of my monasteries! Where the relics (most of them) were kept, and where monks are built! I had a back-up, though, and managed to get the (cannoneer) cavalry to my monastery before they razed the second one.
And he surrendered before I got a relic win, which is also satisfying. I usually feel cheated if I don't get to utterly destroy a civilization ...

Knit Bombing: Overdue Pictures

2011-07-22T13:48:00.002-06:00

Knit bombing!

Bike rack cosy knitted by by good friend Beverly. Follow the link above to see more pictures.

It's my birthday (yesterday)

2011-07-19T20:05:00.002-06:00

Best birthday present ever: 1000 Steampunk Creations. (Thanks, Hari!)
(I might almost say, only birthday present--my sister Emily did get me totally awesome screw-on earrings and matching ring, but what she said when she handed it to me was, "Early birthday/late Christmas", and Ann and Liz got me a totally awesome night out and an Indigo Girls concert.)
So, Emily came in from Chicago for my birthday and wedding planning and the Indigo Girls concert. We spent a lot of time working on wedding invitations, and she got to meet my other handmaidens (Lisa and Dani).

Oh, never mind ... there's more to this story, and perhaps I'll edit this post to update it, but it's late, and I have to work early tomorrow ...

CONduit: Sunday panels

2011-06-11T21:39:00.000-06:00

Saturday night, Dylan and I spent at the hotel, so as to be able to stay later than trains or get to earlier-than-trains Sunday panels. Despite staying up very late Saturday night, we managed to get up early enough to eat breakfast, check out, and get to the 11am panel:

In Writing a Multi-Book Series, some of the dangers of writing multiple books about the same set of characters was discussed: for instance, reviewers may give a bad review because they don't want to have to read multiple books in order to understand the book they need to review; finding the balance between too much recap and not enough--because there are two types of readers out there: the ones who want nothing but a story, and the ones who will never get enough detail, information, etc.: and You Will Never Be Able to Please Them Both At Once. Also, you can't wrap everything up neatly, or there's nothing to write about next time. In fact, L.E. Modesitt Jr. says to not be afraid to leave loose ends, because life doesn't neatly tie together, and the story will feel more real that way.

The thing I really took away from Using Your Environment for Setting Ideas was, do your research! Especially your geography/geology: if your setting is this world, information is available to both you and your readers; if your setting is your own, do research and be accurate, lest you make your knowledgeable readers cringe (and this goes for pretty much anything, but mostly, the panel was discussing geography/geology/culture).

Also, Utah has an amazing variety of geography, and research trips are tax-deductible.

I was slightly disappointed to find that Building Your Audience was not, in fact, about Frankenstein building his monsters, futuristic scientists building androids, or about steampunk sparks building clanks. Alas.

Instead, we discussed blogging, Twitter, Facebook, newsletters. We discussed you as your own brand, and ways to promote books that are being published.

Toward the end, I asked how to promote and build an audience in absence of a book about to be published, and the answer was basically, get out there, blog about being an aspiring writer (because people like to read about that sort of thing, use your pen name on the internet so people are familiar with it before you start publishing.

I took a break after this, picked up the art I had won at the auction, wandered around some more, hung out with people, and for the last panel, I attempted to go to Urban Fantasy, which ended up being less useful/interesting than I had hoped, so I left to go to Position and Positioning, which talked about social position and social equality or lack thereof, and the myth of upward mobility: in novels, the commoner always gets the title and position promised him, but in real life, it was a small estate, and let's hope he goes away to enjoy that, and maybe his grandchildren would be able to gain the larger estates and possibly the title that was promised their ancestor. Social change happens slowly, was the motto for the panel.

And after such an eventful, exciting, informative weekend, Dylan and I went home and rested.

Yay! I managed to finish the saga of CONduit!

Yeah, Not So Much

2011-06-11T09:55:00.000-06:00

So, instead of working last night, I talked to the two women I wanted for handmaidens for a while, and then I watched (mmph) episodes of Community, which is a totally great show. (I keep telling myself: the episodes are half-an-hour! If this was House, it'd only be three (or four ... ) episodes. It's not that bad, really. Only then I look up how much I did watch last night ... ummm .... )

Anyway, today I'm going to Logan to meet with my parents, and so Dylan's mom can meet my parents, and we can all sit around and chat. And I suppose I can talk about that soon, but the plan for the long drive north is to finally write up the Sunday panels for CONduit.
And, this is it, because I have to be dressed and ready to go Very Soon Now.

Poetry

2011-06-10T19:34:00.000-06:00

I just sent three poems to Bull Spec. I think I can expect an answer in about a month. I sent a steampunk poem about a clockwork messenger owl, a fantasy about a phoenix, and a dark fantasy about love gone wrong. Considering the fiction guidelines talking about wanting pieces with hope, I'm not sure the last one is really right for the magazine, but I love it so--and I hope the three pieces together display the diversity I am capable of, or something like that.
B has talked about an open mic night at Crone's Hollow, and I think I'd have fun reading some of my poems there.

On a slightly different topic, I've signed up to pass out the first chapter of Lifechanger to CALLIHOO (the writing group) in a couple weeks, which means I need to finish editing that last chapter-and-a-half I have left over from (mm-hmm) March--NaNoEdMo. Because I don't want multiple drafts being worked on at the same time.
Really, it's just a matter of applying the bum glue. It really won't take me more than two hours, which means I'm just being lazy. So, you know--I'm hoping the deadline will help. Maybe I'll even do it tonight: I'm off work, and I don't have anything going on on Fridays. Dylan's at aikido, I have the house to myself for a couple hours. So, you know, no excuses. I should eat a little something, and get to work.
I'll try it. I'll let you know how it goes.

Wedding Blog

2011-06-10T19:21:00.000-06:00

Started a blog over there. Not sure how it'll work out; the website doesn't really have a good option for blogs, alas. But anyway, here's the beginning of the first entry ...

Things are starting to feel like they're coming together: We almost have a venue (just one final hurdle that probably won't be too strenuous), I've secured all but one of my "handmaidens", my mom is offering to help with clothing, and my sister Brooks is doing some honeymoon research for us, to help narrow down our options. Keep reading ...

New Address

2011-06-10T11:51:00.000-06:00

I threatened it, about a year ago.
The address of this blog is now http://rowanfaesblog.blogspot.com.
The reasons are entirely writing-related. And even though Google-searching Rowan Fae does bring me up (along with a troupe of Irish Dancers), I still want the URL that has my name in it (and straight-up rowanfae.blogspot is being used by some kind of trapeze artist ... ).

The old address is still there with a link to this address (and I felt fancy doing that: researched what URLs were available, then picked the less-desirable one (rowan-fae--because, strangely enough, things like thisisaplaceholder and unimportant were already taken) for the new blog, upon which I wrote a bit of stuff about "this address is no longer Rowan's blog, go to the new address", then I went and changed the URL for this blog, and once that was changed, changed the new one to the old URL).

Anyway, that's about it for news today. Except that I was super-depressed last night, and my friends did a "healing" on me, and it helped, a lot. I was able to cry and have it mean something, change something.
And Tokyo Cat watched the energy intently the entire time, very much a part of the process.

News

2011-06-08T23:12:00.000-06:00

Alright, here's the exciting news that is going to yet again take precedence over CONduit's Sunday panels:

Dylan and I are getting married in November. I already told Facebook, but I guess you can't put it too many places. We have a website just for the purpose of the wedding, which will probably get its own--very wedding-oriented--blog. I'll let everyone know whenever that's updated, and I'll probably talk about wedding-stuff here, too, just not as densely.

So far, we're still working out some of the major details--like budget, venue and how many guests. And we have five months. I'm starting to stress out a bit, and unfortunately, I keep telling people we're getting married, so I think eloping is out of the picture.

I'm also feeling like I'm not getting very much accomplished. And this, I'm sure, has somewhat to do with the fact that I don't know where I'm getting married yet, but it also has to do with the fact that I'm not really working on a writing project currently--a friend asked what I was writing and I just sat there and went, Ummmmm ....

And I'm not currently sending anything out because I wanted to edit Ogre and A Ghost Story (which I also want to edit) is hanging out at the Writers of the Future Contest. And that's basically all I've got. I have some poems, which also need a stiff edit, but I'm much less practiced at poetry-writing and -editing, so ... my options seem to be to either send out poems and hope to find markets that give critiques or something ... flashquake gives a couple sentences about why they're rejecting, if that's what they're doing... Or I could try to find a poetry-critiquing group, ideally a local one here, rather than online.

There's also the house: the "office" is still full of boxes. We've done some good work on emptying boxes in the kitchen and living room, but the bedroom is also a mess. Blah. And especially since when my sister comes out to Utah for the wedding, she'll be staying us: it'd be nice if the office was cleared at least enough for her to use it to change, if nothing else.

Work

2011-06-06T21:59:00.000-06:00

Work has consumed my life the past few days. I opened on Friday (wrote about that in my last post), closed on Saturday, opened on Sunday (and slept in and was late), and opened today. A "cleanliness walk" was scheduled for today--big bosses walking through, making sure everything's clean.
So, of course, that means ridiculous amounts of cleaning. I of course have no idea how much cleaning got done in the shifts when I wasn't there, but I worked my butt off: the morning shifts tend to be slow--especially early--so instead of waiting till noon on Sunday when there would be two of us for an hour so I could clean or she could clean or both of us could clean, I spent the morning scrubbing the entire place.
We have a short broom. After two days of sweeping, my lower back hurts like hell.
I left early on Sunday. That was my main motivation for cleaning all morning, that if everything was already clean, I could go home and fall asleep. Which I did, for hours. Which is why, instead of going to bed at 8:30pm (for eight hours of sleep) or even 10:30pm (for six hours), I went to bed around 11:30pm Sunday night.
I did manage to wake up on time this morning, and get to work on time, and open everything up, and ... clean some more. There were a few bits I had missed/forgotten the day before, and even though I did fill the car-window-washing buckets on Sunday, the water-lines had noticeably decreased, so I added water to them. I also spent time spraying down oil spots with this awesome stuff that, when it works, works like magic. Then I had to rinse the spots, so, water everywhere.
But it was fine.
And the walk never happened.
At least, not while I was there. Maybe it happened after I left. I don't know, and I only have a passing curiosity about it.

I got home, checked my email, sent an email, read today's webcomics, and Robin McKinley's blog, updated Facebook ... and then the internet broke. (Power flickered, internet went down.)
And I knew there was a way to fix it, but didn't know how, so I called Dylan, but he wasn't able to find the instructions, and he didn't know where the paper was, etc. Long story short, I ran an errand (University Pharmacy for Lysine (for preventing cold sores) and Burt's Bees Cuticle Cream to rub all over my nails in the hopes it'll mean something--it does smell nice), and watched some House (not on the internet) until Dylan came home and could fix the internet.
So, here I am, ridiculously tired at 10pm, writing about work instead of CONduit. But I have a day off tomorrow. I'll sleep in. And if I don't write about CONduit, I'll at least try to write about something interesting.

Long Day

2011-06-03T23:41:00.000-06:00

Today is NOT the day for covering the Sunday panels. I'll do it soon--before I forget, but today ...
I woke at 4:30am to get to work at 6am, worked until about 12:20 or so, because my replacement was late, then left work and had conversation and planning with H&B and Dylan at Barbacoa. Then we took him back to work and ran some errands. Then, they took me home.
I changed into a corset/bloomers/etc., and got picked up by some friends of mine, who showed up a bit early for an EA meetup--we bummed around Petsmart, looking sadly at the cats none of us were going to bring home. Finally, there was ice cream, and socializing, and general merriment.

But now I am so tired that I cannot write an entire sentence without falling asleep (and possible continuing to type, but without my conscious mind), or bad misspellings, or quantum leaps that mean nothing.
So it's time for sleep.

CONduit: Saturday panels

2011-06-02T14:51:00.002-06:00

We slept in somewhat. Meaning, we skipped 10am panels and went straight to 11am panels. We also got to check into our hotel room early, so we didn't have to lug around lots of stuff.*

I was a little late to the Poetry workshop, but only a little. A lot of what was said was about how learning to write poetry will help prose writers write prose better, because you will learn the weight of each word. But there was other stuff about playing with words, using the wrong words intentionally, being redundant on purpose to effect. It was interesting.

Plotting a Novel in an Hour covered three of the four steps Robert Defendi uses when writing a novel: brainstorming (we all threw out random ideas for an urban fantasy involving a farmer whose cow is killed/kidnapped by the Fae, including overall plot, main character plot, love story, locations, and family secrets), order (we organized the ideas of each plot type into chronological order--first he meets the Fairy Princess, then he falls in love with her, etc ... ), and integration (taking the ideas out of the plot subtypes and putting them into the rough order they will happen in the book). The final stage, polish, can take anywhere from 40-120 hours, and you might want to go back and do the other steps over again, because the first ideas are usually crap.

How to Write Great Villains: one of the main things we talked about, I think, was the fact that the villain is the hero of his own story. And the difference between a villain (a being with will, malice, choice) and an antagonist (which could be a tornado, natural disaster, etc.). A villain is clever, and can have something to say (to which Howard Tayler replied, "I think New Orleans should be more like Venice, Italy").
And if your villain is so smart you can't figure out how to have your hero beat him, you have 75% of a novel; give it to a smarter friend to figure out what the hero should do.

SF/F Mystery, a panel about cross-genre writing, could be subtitled: Because genre is an invention of booksellers.** Just keep in mind that mystery readers are perhaps more demanding than SF/F readers in terms of rules: mystery readers are basically reading to solve a mystery, and if the rules for the supernatural don't make sense, the readers will be angry. Carole Nelson Douglas spoke about her Midnight Louie series: he's a cat who solves crimes, but he's still a cat.

Bad Fairy! You're NOT a vampire! was one that I had been looking forward to, and it was somewhat disappointing. Not saying anything about the panelists, but I thought it was going to be something more than talking about non-Twilight vampires--meaning, talking about Twilight as opposed to other vampires. And while there was some interesting stuff about the history of vampires in legend and folklore, and how the fictionalization of vampires has evolved, the best thing I can say about the panel is that, despite the title, no one brought up the Fae as being friendly and shiny and pretty, like the Twilight vampires. I would probably have walked out.

High Fantasy discussed the differences (if any) between high fantasy and epic fantasy. Also, that high fantasy, with its shining good guys and dark bad guys might be coming back into vogue, considering that with some "gritty" fantasy, there's such a Grey And Gray Morality, you lose track of who to root for. And also, avoiding tropes is the new trope.

After that was the Masquerade, where my friend won Best of Show for his Lego Batman costume, and is thus going to a Costume Con; then there was the Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog (and Buffy's Once More With Feeling) Sing-Along, which was awesome. My friends composed about half the room, and there were a couple Dr. Horrible virgins amongst my friends, and that was even more awesome.

And I will post Sunday panels probably tomorrow.

***

*Note to self: I have to figure out a costume that makes use of carrying packs or something, so I can carry stuff and have that be part of my costume. Being a fairy who carries bags around kinda cramped my style.

**Actually, I heard that in multiple panels.

Listening to Avenue Q

2011-06-01T22:17:00.002-06:00

Listening to songs from Avenue Q.
Brilliant musical. Many thanks to James, who introduced this to me ...

For Now
Everyone's a little bit unsatisfied.
Everyone goes 'round a little empty inside.
Take a breath,
Look around,
Swallow your pride,
For now...
For now...

Nothing lasts,
Life goes on,
Full of surprises.
You'll be faced with problems of all shapes and sizes.
You're going to have to make a few compromises...
For now...
For now...

But only for now! (For now)
Only for now! (For now)
Only for now! (For now)
Only for now!
For now we're healthy.
For now we're employed.
For now we're happy...
If not overjoyed.
And we'll accept the things we cannot avoid, for now...
For now...
For now...
For now...
But only for now! (For now)
Only for now! (For now)
Only for now! (For now)
Only for now!

Only for now!
(For now there's life!)
Only for now!
(For now there's love!)
Only for now!
(For now there's work!)
For now there's happiness!
But only for now!
(For now discomfort!)
Only for now!
(For now there's friendship!)
Only for now (For now!)
Only for now!

Only for now! (Sex!)
Is only for now! (Your hair!)
Is only for now! (George Bush!)
Is only for now!

Don't stress,
Relax,
Let life roll off your backs
Except for death and paying taxes,
Everything in life is only for now!
Each time you smile...
...Only for now
It'll only last a while.
...Only for now
Life may be scary...
...Only for now
But it's only temporary

Everything in life is only for now.

Hello, Goodbye

2011-06-01T21:22:00.000-06:00

I broke all my rules. So maybe it's for the best.
Do I know how to talk, get to know someone, without flirting wildly?
So, yes, I'll be tiresomely self-centered for a moment, and cry about how it's my fault men fall in love with me instantly. Is Dylan any different, though, really? We knew each other for years before we started dating (rule #1), but we were in love before we started dating. Maybe he fell for me instantly, and the other shoe just hasn't fallen yet.
No, Dylan's safe. I loved him early on, and, more importantly, before he ever said that he loved me or might love me or whatever (rule #3, I think). So I think it's for real. For true. For a long time, a lifetime. Everything was right with Dylan; we spent time building up emotional intimacy, perhaps faster than we found physical intimacy (rule #2).
And the Gods bless Dylan, for without him, I would be alone. He is my family.

So, I met someone. It was nice, for the very short time it lasted. I guess I'll leave it at that. I missed my antidepressant last night. Good excuse, right?
I'll be fine.

CONduit: Friday panels

2011-06-01T09:01:00.004-06:00

I downplayed the panels in the last post, but they were still wonderful. So, here we go.
Friday, I started with Con Etiquette, which might seem like a boring panel, and it was filled with some common-sense stuff I learned last year (eat food, drink water, get sleep--but I don't think anyone said anything about pace yourself; last year, I went to panel after panel after panel with no down time in the Dealer's Room, Art Room, Media/Anime Rooms, or even just hanging out with other con-goers. I was brain-dead about halfway through ... ), but there were some useful things, like the 521 or 631 rule:
5 or 6: hours of sleep each night of the con
2 or 3: meals per day during the con
1: shower each day of the con
I liked the layout of the rule: I prefer the 631 rule, myself, but I think Saturday was more of a 521 day ... and I survived.

After Con Etiquette, I took a break to stare at the Dealer's Room, and then went to Brainstorming with your Subconscious, which was about using Tarot cards to help you brainstorm your stories. Kathleen Dalton-Woodbury asked if anyone would volunteer a character to be read in demonstration, and I was the only who reacted, so she did a Celtic Cross layout for Olivia, the main character of the Taking (first of four Changeling stories). She gave me some interesting ideas for ways to change and twist the Taking.

Dylan and I ate some food and went outside, and then made it to Screenwriting 101. I won't say I didn't learn anything in the panel (as if I know all there is to know about screenwriting), but they did cover a lot of common sense stuff. The one thing I found useful was the delineation between novel (character vs. himself), play (character vs. other people) and movie (character vs. everything). It will help me the next time I make an attempt to adapt the Taking into a stageplay.

Then it was on to Streamlining Your Fiction. Jessica Day George was present at this panel, and I only bring it up because she's one of my favorite panelists. And someday, I'll read her books ...
But this was a useful panel, talking about editing your fiction, and pulling out nonessentials, which is especially useful for short fiction. One thing I remember especially was: if you can remove a scene, a character, etc., and the story reads fine without it, it should be removed.

Women in Fantasy was next. Panelists: I love L.E. Modesitt, Jr.; and I got to see Amber Argyle (new author), Carole Nelson Douglas and Elisabeth Waters for the first time--though I am, of course, familiar with EW, since she edits the Sword & Sorceress anthology.
Anyway, the panel was about how to use women in fantasy with using stereotypes, how to have believable, strong female characters without making them men with breasts, and just some of the differences between men and women in general. (L.E. Modesitt's qualification for the panel, besides his good female characters, was his six daughters.)

My friend Kelly and I were very interested in A Day in the Life of a Slave, so we sat down near the front and waited for them to start. One of the moderators started putting up pictures of men, none of which I recognized, and Kelly and I sat there wondering what that had to do with slaves.
When they finally started talking, it became clear to us that we were in the Doctor Who Debates panel, and not the panel we wanted at all. (And she mentioned David Tennant, who I think I might recognize, but I didn't see him up there.)
We hurried out of there and went next door (the signs were not epically clear), where we learned that there is no typical day in the life of any slave, and that, in the South, there might be no-whip rules at the plantation next door to the one that encourages whipping, and the screams of the whipped would carry to the next plantation over.
I also learned about Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery in the United States from Interviews, a project that involved interviewing very old ex-slaves, and compiling it into a book, which is available in ebook form.

The final panel of the day was Suspense: Building to a Satisfactory Conclusion. There were plenty of excellent panelists who were all new to me, and I'd like to mention in particular Dr. Michael R. Collings, since he was the one who critiqued my poem on Saturday. I especially enjoyed what he had to say. We discussed techniques for not only building and keeping the suspense, but also for letting the characters (and the readers) get a breath.

And after that, Dylan and I went home to eat dinner, shower, etc., and I adjusted my costume, which was covered in velvet, and was ridiculously hot.
And I'll stop here, and talk about Saturday's panels another day ...

2011-05-31T17:55:00.003-06:00

Two days of rest, plus working at 6am (which is not very restful, I admit), and two episodes of House later, and I'm still yawning, but that might be the part where I woke up at 4:30am this morning, or the part where I got less than 6 hours of sleep last night, or even the antidepressant still making me yawn for no reason.
Who knows.
I'm leaving for Whole Foods in two minutes, to pick up some vitamins we ran out of /sadface/ and some more soymilk, before we run out of that, and maybe something to offer the gaming group tonight: we're meeting at my house this week, which is a yay in some aspects, but the part where I suddenly realize that I forgot an errand and have to be back before a certain time is ... well, actually, I guess it's about the same as normal, because I usually get a ride to gaming ... and I usually forget to buy food to share ...
Anyway, gotta run now.

CONduit

2011-05-30T21:55:00.002-06:00

CONduit is Salt Lake's science-fiction/fantasy convention. It was, as usual, amazing. Strangely enough, the panels are not what I remember this time (not as much, anyway). I got to see some old friends and make new ones, I bought a keseira (jewelry from the Wheel of Time books) in green, because they only had Ajah colors, and there is no Purple Ajah, and while I like red better than green, I like the Green Ajah WAY better than the Red. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, read the Wheel of Time. Like, now. )
I also got something I've been wanting for a WHILE: a strawberry-embroidered handkerchief. A woman with a fancy sewing machine was doing machine-embroidery, and I happened to have a handkerchief on me, so she embroidered a strawberry (well, two strawberries) on it. It's a reference to Othello, so if you don't know what I'm talking about, go see Othello. Or just read it.
Probably the best thing, though, was getting a poem critiqued by Michael R. Collings. He had a booth set up so you could show up with a poem and he would read it through and give you a mini critique. I think it was helpful.
I also won a piece of artwork: a watercolor (I think?) on a cloth scroll of Alice at tea time ... She's wearing black-and-white striped stockings and it's beautiful ...

Anyway, I now have lots of ideas about writing, mostly urban fantasy ... I think I want to set an urban fantasy (series) in Haiti ... it will require research.
Time to go to bed, I have to wake up super-early for work.
Good-night.

I Love Daffodils!

2011-04-26T10:20:00.004-06:00

Last year, at the end of the Farmer's Market*, I bought three daffodil bulbs.
Then, they sat in my kitchen (in the fruit bowl**) for ... Months. I worried about them, but suddenly it was snowing, and I certainly couldn't plant them when it was snowing***, and finally, in JANUARY, I asked if there was anything to be done. Apparently, there was. On the next thaw-day, I grabbed my little shovel† and dug three little holes (it was a nice day, and not freezing), as deep as I could, which I didn't think was actually deep enough. The daffodil bulbs went in the holes, and I covered them best I could with dirt.

Then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And it was APRIL, and all the other daffodils in the world had bloomed already††! And where were mine?
Sure, there were little green sprouts, but daffodils are supposed to bloom EARLY! Like March.
Only, apparently, there are early-blooming daffodils and late-blooming daffodils, and my friends said I must have gotten the late-blooming daffodils ....
Sigh.

THEN, last night, suddenly, there they were: Daffodils! Well, one full daffodil, and one of the bulbs had two buds, and the last one was still just green stem ...
But still. It made my night.

***

*October-ish?

**Until we set aside a second bowl for garlic and ginger and, um ... daffodil bulbs ...

***Having been much too lazy to plant them, you know, when it was prime-bulb-planting-time. Before the snow.

†Is it called a trowel? If I'm going to be serious about gardening^, I'm going to need to learn these things ...

^Which I'd love to be, but highly doubt such a thing will actually happen.

††There is one slopey backyard on my street (west of me) that is COVERED in daffodils. I am SO jealous. It's what I want my yard to look like ...

Whoops

2011-04-25T11:36:00.002-06:00

Yet another month has slid by without me posting anything. I guess I'll stop blaming my busy-ness* ...
So, what's new?
I dropped out of Screnzy early**: ten pages in, and for whatever reason, I just couldn't do it. It's too bad: I want to write this stage play, but April is evidently not the time to do it. Maybe I'll just treat it like any other writing project: giving it time to grow in my head, taking the time to write it all, etc.

Bellydancing makes me happy. We had a week off last week, and it feels like forever since I've bellydanced. Sad day. But it's Monday now, so I have class tonight. Yay!

April being National Poetry Month, it's also National Poetry Writing Month, which is what most of my writing has been this month. So, I have managed to write at least one poem per day***, and I think it's been good for me.
In fact, I have this theory that has only been strengthened by the month's exploits, which is that writers should branch out and try not only different genres and different voices, but also different types of writing entirely, to give them new experiences with the written word: writing a screenplay† was good for me, writing poetry has been good for me ... what might be next?

I'm excited about most of my poems: I want to clean them up and examine them for meter, rhythm, rhyme, sound, etc., and see if I can get a few trustworthy opinions about them††, and then I want to see if I can sell my poetry. It's an exciting prospect.
On the other hand, I feel somewhat adrift in the realm of prose-writing currently. I finished one story††† (for Sword & Sorceress), and I'll be submitting it to the writing group on Thursday. I read through it once, fixed or notated the little I saw that was wrong with it, and then had nothing to write.
I want to edit last year's S&S submission, and then start sending it out again, but I've somehow LOST the critique notes. So I went through it anyway, but I can't remember what anyone said about it, etc.
I have two editing projects I could finish: the first Changeling story, and my Lifechanger novel (which I edited most of in March), but those require the computer‡, and most of my writing-time has been at work, where I feel much more comfortable with a small notebook, unless I know for a fact that the cameras are not being monitored‡‡.
And I don't really have a lot of new-story ready in my head. I have one that needs to simmer in my brain a bit longer--I actually have a couple that need to simmer, but they mostly seem to be novels--where are my short stories‡‡‡? I could edit A Ghost Story, since I know where my notes are for that one, but it's out (at Writers of the Future), which means I have lots of time before it'll come back, and Ogre (last year's S&S) is just sitting here, not being sent out, because I want to edit it§. Braugh!
Anyway, I'll figure it out.
Thanks for your patience.

***

*Especially since it's hardly true. What do I do all day? Write a poem (usually at work, if I work that day), sleep, watch House or Bones, umm, oh, and I started reading again recently^, so for a while I didn't even have books to distract me.

^ Fragile Things, by Neil Gaiman. Deliciously creepy and mind-tentacle-rapey. Beautiful.

**That's two years in a row, in fact. The first year was fine. Maybe the thing that is not exactly true for me about NaNo is true for me about Screnzy: Don't care about it too much. If you care about it, you'll never finish it^.
I cared about Lifechanger very much, and not only did I finish it, but I finished it still caring about it, and then I edited (most of) it, and I still care about it, and when I finish editing it, I'll start sending it to the writing group, because I care about it, and then maybe I'll try to get it published.

^The idea being that you are writing very fast, inevitably sloppily, and are producing a rough draft, and since NaNo is aimed at people who have always wanted to write more than people who are already writing (aimed at is the key phrase here), the advice basically assumes that one doesn't know ahead of time what a rough draft is, or what its purpose is. Or something. That's how I've always interpreted it, anyway.

***Except for the one day I forgot (I think it was Tuesday), but I made up for it the next day. And Tuesday was cosmically spooky anyway--I forgot to write a poem, one friend failed her writing goal, another was epically sick, and a third watched a really horrible movie ... all on the same day.

†2009, my first Screnzy. Maybe it's simply beginner's luck?

††Which may or may not involve my writing group: we have attempted one poetry critique/discussion night, which I think was good for all of us, but that's only my opinion, and one member who insists on not "understanding" poetry wasn't there, so ... we'll see how it goes. I hope we do more poetry-critiquing/discussing nights. I liked it.

†††As yet untitled. Hope the writing group will have some suggestions. The setting's based loosely on the Second Crusade, however, and there are unicorns. So, you know.

‡I have a clever system of inputting editing/critique notes into Scrivener, and then ignoring my paper critique notes^ while I critique entirely on my computer. It saves room for the long haul of editing--before, I spread critique notes all over my bed, and went over them one page at a time, fixing things as I went. Which is probably fine for a short story. And it's still what I do to input critique notes, but if I take more than a couple hours to edit (which I do), then I don't have to pick everything up to go to sleep, and then spread it all out again next time ...
^And maybe I could start printing new submissions on the other side of them ...

‡‡There are, of course, cameras all over my little box, but only one of the bosses monitors the cameras that are all over the store and property. I have been known to open my computer during work, but only briefly, like to check the poetry prompt because I'm feeling uninspired. And last night near the end of my shift, I typed up my Blood Promises poem (that was yesterday's prompt), because I was fairly sure the bosses weren't there that late.

‡‡‡I'm not that good at short-story writing: my stories tend to be more complex than I can fit into 10,000 words--or, more to the point, I can't figure out plots that don't take up at least 40,000 words ... Or whatever.

§I'll be submitting it again to my writing group, I think, and with nothing really changed. Alas.

Script Frenzy Begins!

2011-04-02T14:00:00.002-06:00

Apologies to anyone who reads my blog: March was full of editing (National Novel Editing Month, 50 hours of editing in 31 days), and I just never got around to writing a new blog post.
So, even though it's April, and April is not only Script Frenzy (100 pages in 30 days), but also National Poetry Writing Month (30 poems in 30 days), and I've decided to do both, I will also attempt to write more blog posts. At least one per week.

Some brief updates:
Screnzy: 6 pages of 100, and I'm on track so far. (I'm doing a stage-play adaptation of my story the Taking, which is about how horrifying Faerie is.)
NaPoWriMo: 2 poems so far, neither of them emotion-based (they both have to do with fairy tales), and one of them is composed of rhyming couplets!
(And there's a Rapunzel contest going on over at Enchanted Conversation, so that's gonna occupy my poetry for the next couple days ... )
EdMo: though it's over, I figured I'd mention that I did get 50 hours of editing done, and I think I have two hours left (on the thirty-first, I got five chapters in five hours, so I figure the last two chapters in two hours is a reasonable guess--and no, I don't have fifty-two chapters, but I did do multiple drafts) before I have a presentable version of my novel, Lifechanger. When that happens, I'll start sending it to CALLIHOO (the writing group) for critique. But I'm pleased with it.
Bellydancing: Monday was my first bellydancing class, yay! It was lots of fun!

And that might be it for updates. See you in a few days, hopefully.

Unwhole Grains

2011-03-03T09:29:00.003-07:00

So, on Tuesday, I ate waffles made of white rice flour, and white rice with both dinner and lunch. (And, because I couldn't help it, I bought gluten-free ginger snaps with white rice flour in them. I didn't eat the whole bag, though.)
On Tuesday, I have some stuffy nose, but that's hard to gauge, really, as my nose is constantly clogged up ... well, almost constantly. I've started using a Neti pot and Breathe Right strips, and I get more clear nose more often than ... well, probably ever. Still, a thing to report.
Yesterday and today, my joint pain is more than it was before. My joint pain had decreased to an ignorable state (or very nearly), either due to the diet, or the drugs, or likely a combination of both. But now it increases. It's still manageable, but it hurts more, and that's harder.
Also, I had a bout of anxiety/depression/brokenness last night, which is not terribly unusual, given that it was a choir night, but I thought it might be worth mentioning.

Tomorrow's a new day, and a new food choice. I think it'll be dairy.
Love you all, thanks for reading.

Chocolate

2011-02-28T10:43:00.005-07:00

I ate chocolate on Saturday. I was very strict: no dairy, no gluten or unwhole grains, and I accepted sugar as a necessary evil--does anyone make chocolate without sugar? Mmm, agave nectar chocolate ...
No clue.

Anyway, I drank chocolate Silk (it was dutch process cocoa, unfortunately, but I'd been craving chocolate "milk" for so long), and I ate these really good gluten-free "brownie" cookies--they didn't really have the brownie texture, so I don't know why they claimed to be brownies, but they were yummy.
The rest of the day, I had a stuffy nose and a lingering headache (a headache that lingered from Friday?), and BS says that nose symptoms can happen within 15 minutes, so perhaps that was the chocolate.
Yesterday I was basically fine. A little lethargic/depressed, but hardly any headache at all, and my breathing was clear. Today I'm a little stuffed up again, and I have a tiny headache and a little more joint pain.

It occurs to me that I might have to run this test again, just to go through everything and make certain that I react the same way. I've had a little bit of nose-runniness today and yesterday, but nowhere near as bad as what I got after eating sugar. So, who knows what that means? The less sugar I have, the less symptoms I have? Or does chocolate mitigate the sugar factor?
Who knows.

Tomorrow's a new day, and I get to try a new thing. Not sure. I'm probably going to put off dairy a bit longer. Fried foods would be good to test (I miss my potato chips), but I think testing non-whole grains (basically white rice) would be better to try sooner. Turning down any food made of less than 100% whole grains is really hard, much harder than being gluten-free or accepting no sweeteners but agave nectar and honey and fruit juice ...

Sugar and Black Tea

2011-02-25T11:02:00.003-07:00

So, I've fallen down on once-a-week posts. But that's okay; a lot of February was spent depressed or busy or both.
I have hopes for the citalopram, and especially for both my doctor and my CSW telling me to do things that are good for me: look, the doctor said so! Obviously, I *have* to (at least try to) set aside time every week to write. (No joke; my doctor told me to write. At least once per week.) And I think that'll help me do it, because I'm not just counting on myself. It's not just me I have to answer to.

Similarly, when he heard about my anti-inflammatory diet, he told me to keep up with it. So here's what I have to report:
The anti-inflammatory diet lists foods to avoid and foods to eat. I spent January sort of gearing up to it, finding out what foods I eat normally that I cannot eat due to the diet (did you know some pasta sauces have sugar in them? I didn't), etc. The last Sunday of January marked the point where it was serious: it was three weeks of strict adherence to the lists, after which, I would start adding food back in, one at a time, and monitoring their effects.
The diet (found in Healing Depression and Bipolar Disorder Without Drugs) suggests testing sensitivities to foods by abstaining from it for three weeks, and then enjoying it three times in one day, and then monitoring the effect for the next two days.
So, Sunday, I ate sugar. I put raw sugar in my cereal and drank juices with sugar in them and ate organic fruit snacks with evaporated cane juice in them. The next two days I had blinding headaches hovering around my right eye, and a constantly runny nose.
Wednesday, I drank black tea (and was so glad to have my tea again!) several times that day. I have had a couple of bad headaches, but I don't know if they're related: they didn't stay in one place like the sugar-headaches, and they were off and on. Really two headaches yesterday and today. (At least so far. There's a fair amount of day left today). But other than the headaches, I didn't notice anything: pain levels stayed about the same, no unusual sinus reactions, etc. So, I will continue monitoring the rest of the day.

I'll decide what I'm trying next before I go to bed tonight. It'll either be really good dark chocolate (no milk involved) or dairy. I also have to decide whether black tea will continue to be avoided at least for now. I think it might be smarter to continue to avoid the things on the "no" list, at least for now.
I'll keep you posted.

New developments

2011-02-03T10:41:00.004-07:00

Um, I guess.
Some things are working out, some, not so much. My glasses are finally being shipped out. They may appear today, when the shipment arrives; possibly tomorrow. I just want them before the weekend: UU choir is doing two Requiem performances, one on Saturday at 4522 S 1300 E (it's a retirement home, but I don't remember what it's called) at 3pm, and one on Sunday at the First Unitarian Church (600 S 1300 E) at 9am and 11am.
Feel free to come.
And then I'm seeing a play (Persian Quarter at SLAC) with DP and our friends H&B. So I really want my eyes to not hurt for all that ...

Anyway, I've also started taking an SSRI, with mixed results: side effects I've noticed include yawning and nausea. The pharmacist told me I might get headaches while the serotonin levels were building up, so I don't know if my frequent/constant headaches currently are due to that or the eye strain, or the volume of my audiobooks, which doesn't seem to be louder than the music, but I seem to miss more sounds while "reading" ... Also, the constant fatigue may or may not be due to the SSRI, rather than being the same constant fatigue I've been feeling for years ...

On another note: my tattoo appointment fell through. Etc. I've talked about this on Facebook, so I'll probably skip the boring details, plus I'm depressed, which makes me less eager to share things with the internet ... (I've only been taking the SSRI for one week, and the pharmacist told me it would take up t three weeks for the "optimal" levels of serotonin to build up ... so I'm still depressed.)

I haven't been writing. I've been sleeping and "reading" and watching House.

Ow.

2011-01-25T08:48:00.003-07:00

Because of Voc Rehab, I saw a, um, Clinical Social Worker the other day. (Someday I'm going to have to learn what the difference is between all these titles. Apparently the difference between a psychologist and a psychiatrist is that the latter can prescribe drugs.)
So, we talked (among other things) about depression and anxiety and how that makes work life (and normal interaction with people life), um, very difficult. She mentioned aerobic exercise as a method of anti-depressant.

So, I was scheduled to work on Sunday at 7am. The bus I normally take down the hill doesn't run on the weekends, so when that bus isn't available, I usually bike down the hill and then to get home, I bike to the train, take the train up the hill, and bike home from the train. But biking downhill really doesn't afford much exercise.
So I decided to walk. I figured I would also walk back uphill, because it's really not that far, it's just a steep hill. I left a little later than I'd intended, though, so I was walking as quickly as I could downhill, so as not to be late for work.
I ended up not walking home from work, partially because my legs had started to hurt (but they often do after six to eight hours of standing on a tile-covered concrete floor), and mostly because I had purchased a $20 toaster oven. (It was on sale from $25, and that was cheaper than the $45/50 toaster/convection ovens we'd seen at Costco on Saturday.) So I was carrying this huge box, and I didn't want to walk all the way home carrying it. Plus, I knew that if the bus gods were kind, it would only take two buses: the #209 to 400 S and 900 E, and then the #220 to a block from my home.
They were kind, and I only waited for about twenty minutes.

By Monday, my legs really started to hurt. I worked yesterday, too, so I was standing on tiled-over-concrete for five hours with shin splints, yay!
When I got home, I spent the evening with my legs elevated. By the time DP got home, I could barely walk. I hobbled around, steadying myself on the walls and furniture.
It's better now. in that I can basically walk. Still, today's a day off, and I'm so glad ...

2011-01-15T10:07:00.003-07:00

Hello, Saturday. I have a day off today. DP does too, of course.
Probably we'll do housely things that haven't otherwise been getting done, like cleaning out the fridge, and making soup. We might also watch a movie, though.

I'm trying to write, but my brain is mostly not cooperating. There's the fairy tale magazine, a Crimson Pact anthology, and I'd just love to submit something to Realms of Fantasy ... (Strange Horizons has already seen most of my basically done stories.)
I have a couple stories that I've written and have gone through the critique process a couple times, and maybe I could continue to look at them, but they're basically ready, so I guess I can try to send them out as often as possible.
But the fairy tale and the Crimson Pact story have to be new, because I've never written a story involving the Crimson Pact before, and I can't anticipate what the next fairy tale theme will be ... and I can't really smoosh them together (though I did come up with an idea for a story that would do that ... ) because their reading periods are similar, and at least one of them doesn't want to be reading the same thing as someone else at the same time. I guess that's polite.

But still, if I can write a bunch of new short stories, even if they don't get published right away, that's more stories to polish, then send out to non-themed magazines. Because, as it turns out, I think I do better with longer stuff than shorter. Not necessarily novel-length: my Changeling stories are all about 12,500 words (give or take a thousand), which is at least 2,500 more words than the maximum accepted submission I've seen so far ... so I'm not sure what I'll do with those ... And the story I'm trying to write for the writing group's Quarterly Challenge is quickly turning into ... probably novel-length.

Anyway, maybe I'll have breakfast now.

On the intersection of sprite comics and fairy tales

2011-01-07T21:09:00.000-07:00

So, I was talking with some friends the other day about fairy tales. The writing group found a new writing magazine called "Enchanted Conversation: a fairy tale magazine", which asks for submissions on the topic of the fairy tale they have chosen for that particular issue.

The magazine also listed some guidelines which caused us to discuss fairy tales in general, and I was relating to my friends what I took away from a book I read while doing research for the changeling stories. The book is [enter book here], and it was highly interesting. If you have any interest in fairy tales, I recommend reading it.

What's relevant to this post, however, is what the author said about symbolism in fairy tales, and how, I realized today, that relates to the sprite comic format.

You see, in fairy tales, it's nearly all symbols. A fairy tale is a story told in symbols: the "true love's kiss" is a symbol for falling in love, the period of near-death (enchanted sleep, a period of working and waiting) the female protagonist goes through is a symbol for the transformation or period of personal growth she's going through during that period.

There are no thought processes in fairy tales, very few descriptions of anyone or anything, there are only the characters' words and their actions.

And that brings us to the sprite comic format. When I first started planning a webcomic (to the point of starting a script for Script Frenzy), I was aware of the differences in approach that existed between a script and a piece of prose, like a story. But I'd encountered that the year before when writing a screenplay, and so it seemed very easy to write out the character's dialog, and then just sort of imagine I had an artist who would read my notes on what everything was supposed to look like, and so I could describe it that way.

But when I started thinking that a sprite comic would be the way to get this thing actually done, that's when I had to think a little bit harder. Because, you see, the thing about the sprite comic is that it's not about the art. It's about symbols. In this case, it's about visual symbols, rather than words describing symbols, but still: it's much like a fairy tale.

Regardless of how many poses and facial expressions I have for my characters, they are still symbols. And that's a much different way of approaching a story than I have been so far.

So, now I'm even more excited ... also, my sister is going to be drawing my characters' paper dolls for me (and maybe even backgrounds ... ), so I officially have art that won't suck. (Well, it's not official yet. I have to get her the character descriptions, which I am working on feverishly. And should now get back to.)

New Year

2011-01-02T14:52:00.003-07:00

It's been two weeks of not-posting. I apologize. Granted, Christmas/New Year can be some of the busiest time of the year for--well, for most people, but still.
Anyway, here I am. What shall I talk about?
I finished the Changeling game. I created an adventure, ran it for some friends, and finished it, and people had fun. It has the feeling of something accomplished. I might do it again. However, I seem to need a year for my ideas to percolate and truly form, so I don't know if I'll get to do the next story at the coming Vernal Equinox, like I'd like to.

I survived Christmas. I got some lovely things, and was even surprised by some of the things I got, and presents I gave to other people were mostly well-received. There's still a tree in my living room, and I'm not sure when it's coming down.

DP and I saw Tangled, which was mostly lovely, aside from the continued idea that, in order to be truly happy, a man cannot be less powerful than his woman. (And specifically, that if he is, she must correct the balance ... ) Seems similar to Virgin Power, in that regard.

And, I went to a doctor! Talked about all the various things wrong with me, checked my height and height, got my blood drawn. I have a large bruise where the needle went in the second time, and I get to get more blood drawn tomorrow very early, fasting. Because the doctor likes to get a baseline cholesterol reading, apparently ...
And then later this month, I have an appointment to get the results of all the blood tests ...
One thing that surprised me a little: I was telling the doctor about all of my vitamins and supplements, which include Holy Basil for depression, Omega 3-6-9 which helps with depression, and I'm currently "trying out" St. John's Wort to see if that will help at all. So, he asked about that, and I had opportunity to mention the diagnoses of Major Depression and Anxiety NOS. The part that surprised me was when he mentioned antidepressants. It's a free clinic, after all, and while I was pretty sure they'd be able to help with my purely physical things, I had forgotten that doctors prescribe drugs, and could prescribe antidepressants. So I told him I'd think about it, and then we talked about blood tests.
My thoughts so far are: I believe in making the diet work first, doing as much as you can with your nutrition, and if that doesn't help, then move on to supplements and homeopathics, etc., and then if that doesn't help, then look into antidepressants. Plus, I'm about to start seeing a counselor thanks to Voc Rehab, and I'd like to see what she says about it, before agreeing to medications.
Still, this year seems to be made entirely of new, because I'm seeing doctors and counselors. It seems amazing.

Voc Rehab

2010-12-17T23:59:00.000-07:00

I'm leaving for Voc Rehab in just a minute--so quickly, in fact, that I did not get to finish the preamble.

I'm waiting in the lobby now, because my friend BS is "talking about me behind my back", is what she said, but who knows. She may tell me when she's done.

We talked to my counselor's supervisor about what's been going on, specifically about my anxiety that seems to accompany authority figures (who are usually male--like my counselor), and about how slowly things have seemed to be going with him.

The supervisor seemed more concerned with how slowly things were going than with my anxiety--not that he wasn't concerned about the anxiety, he merely felt that the anxiety itself should be addressed, rather than skirting me around any dangerous territory. I'm basically okay with that. But he talked about setting specific, I don't know, benchmarks that, if we didn't find them happening within a timely manner, if we felt we weren't getting the service we needed, we were to talk to him about it. We didn't actually do it, so I don't know how that helps, but ...

(BS was asking about her position as my "advocate" and whether she was "helping" too much ... )

I also got them the name and number of a counselor/therapist/whatever (someday I'll learn the difference between the terms) who's been working with my family somewhat, and wanted to work with me. She was in their list of okay people, so that was good.

It's been a long day, and I'm tired. More later.

2010-12-10T22:00:00.001-07:00

If I'm not fucked up, if I'm not using drugs, if I don't have an eating disorder, if I'm not on any medications, if I've never attempted suicide, how can I justify not being happy?

Moving On

2010-12-09T16:26:00.003-07:00

So many different thoughts flying in my head at once. Voc Eval finished, and I almost wish they would keep everyone a full week, because that might be a decent test of how well a person can bear up under that schedule. BS says a lot of their clients can't. I thought it would be a cakewalk, but I think I was starting to show strain.

Tuesday was harder than Monday, with me employing my coping mechanisms more frequently (mostly homeopathic stress reliefs, but also one thing that could be termed "unhealthy", and thus will not go on the internet). Wednesday, while I was waiting, I laid my head down on my desk and fell asleep for a little while. Also, Wednesday saw me pull out my coping mechanisms very frequently.

And, fortunately for me, we were done yesterday, because I slept till 2:30pm today, which almost never happens. Granted, I did stay up till 2am, because I knew I didn't have to get up, but when I do that, I usually wake at 10am.

I was thinking earlier, before I sat down to do this, that it's a wonder I blog at all. I have this omnipresent belief that unless someone asks me a direct question, they're probably not interested in what I have to say.

And yet, here I am, sending information about myself into the ether, but I think it's because people wouldn't look at my blog unless they wanted to know what I have to say. If they weren't interested, they could just close the tab or window.

Whereas, in conversation with real humans, it may not be considered polite to tell someone you just don't care, will you please shut up. So I opt to shut up in the first place, and if you want to know something, you can ask.

Vocational Evaluation, Take 3

2010-12-09T16:25:00.001-07:00

Good morning. Sitting in the Voc Eval place, waiting for my evaluator to finish with explaining the computer test to one of the other people. There's three people here today, but it's just after nine, so the fourth might be coming. Or he might be that guy sitting at a different table, working on something. I can't tell if he looks familiar or not. Probably not.

Anyway, once the evaluator is done, he'll pick either me, or the other guy waiting, and get us started. But for now, I'm just sitting.

Tests today included motor coordination, finger dexterity and manual dexterity. I feel like I did not do perfectly on any of them, but he marked me high on all of them, except the wiring one, because there wasn't any wiggle room: my score was how many tiny metal circles I got the "wire" through, out of twenty. I felt that was particularly low, but he said most of the people who do that test get lower scores.

I also did the Computer Operator Aptitude Battery, which involved three parts: logical thinking, pattern recognition, and one other that I cannot remember. The logical thinking one was the best: brain puzzles, basically, and it took me fourteen of the thirty minutes given me to do it.

If I remember what he said about my scores, I got between the 90th and 99th percentile on each of the tests, and unlike the other tests I took, I wasn't being compared against Random Population A, but against computer people. And I got the 99th percentile in something. (I don't remember which. I'm hoping I'll get all this information printed out and handed to me at one of my next Voc Rehab appointments, so I can take it home and frame it.)

And then he told me I was done, that the testing was done, and I had nothing else to do. So, this adventure with Voc Eval is at its end, which is good in a way: I was getting nothing done. Well, I did manage to write some during my breaks. But mostly I didn't have the energy after a session to do anything at all ...

Vocational Evaluation, Take 2

2010-12-07T15:46:00.000-07:00

Today feels like a waste of time. My evaluator seems unable to handle more than one person at a time: yesterday there were four people, and he decided to split us into two today and two tomorrow. And even so, I'm not doing anything. I filled out more bubbles, but he gave me those forms last night, and due to preparing for my game, I didn't have time to fill those out at home. I thought it'd be okay: I'll fill these in in my spare moments, when he's dealing with other people.

Well, I've been here for two and half hours. I filled in the bubbles, and then, because I couldn't find him, I started transcribing my list of (actually nineteen) ideal careers onto a clean sheet of paper in legible writing, and with the "catalog numbers" listed with them.

Then he came by, and said he would give me something to do, and walked away to his office, so I pulled out my netbook and began writing. He interrupted me to have me do a computer test: the kind that tests interests (again), and then the fun kind that ask you to match patterns and solve problems and know what words mean in a short amount of time. The pattern matching (figuring out a shape from a pattern of a shape) was the only one I finished every question in, and with time to spare.

I got the 99th percentile on Spatial Aptitude and Clerical Perception--and until BS reminded me how percentiles work (that out of 100 people, 99 of them scored below me) I saw the 99 and said, "What? I only got 99% on Spatial Aptitude? I should have gotten 100%, bitches!" in my super-perfectionist way. I also got 97th on Form Perception, and only 94th on General Learning Ability. What I actually feel bad about is my 85th on Verbal Aptitude--I'm a freakin' writer, how did I not get at least the 90th on that?

I won't list everything here, because that would put me over my word count limit, but I scored 100% interest in Artistic, Plants/Animals, and Mechanical, and I'm walking away with two or three different lists of jobs that I am both interested in, and probably good at.

So, now I just put them all on a dart board and start throwing?

I am going in tomorrow, but probably not for the whole time--I get to test my manual dexterity, finger dexterity and motor coordination. My evaluator doesn't think it's necessary, because I'm not likely to want to lay bricks or distribute handbills, but I pointed out I might want to play a piano, and then said that I like to learn things, especially about myself, and he agreed, basically, to cater to my whim, which I did not expect.

Vocational Evaluation

2010-12-06T15:30:00.003-07:00

Haven't written in a few days. This entry will probably take all day to write, but that's okay because I have no internet here.

I have two fifteen minute breaks, and an hour for lunch. I'm only here for six hours ... that's a schedule I can live with!

Doing Vocational Evaluation testing. So far just filling out forms about my work experience and why I have trouble getting and keeping jobs (anxiety issues rank high, here), and then one long fill-in-the-bubbles sort of form asking what I like or would like in activities, subjects to study and jobs. Never understood the purpose of those things: Don't worry about whether you would be good at it, or how well it pays ... I don't understand how that helps, but I guess I can trust in the system.

Anyway, finished my banana and egg, so, back to the table to fill out more forms--oh, yeah, he'd handed us some shiny magazines that talk about jobs ... sort of like a miniature OOH. So we get to look at those and write down "five to ten" jobs we'd like. Riiight ...

I wrote eighteen ideal jobs. Yay, me!

Also, they let me go early, so I didn't have a last break in which to write this. I'm writing now in the lobby, waiting for my friend BS, who dropped me off here. (This building is at about 1500 W, and I don't know if there are any buses in the world that go here ... )

So. I got to peek at my file, and I found that Voc Rehab's psych evaluation of me got me the diagnoses of Major Depression and Anxiety Disorder NOS (Not Otherwise Specified basically means the anxiety doesn't meet the criteria for any other disorder).

My "counselor"--I'm not actually sure what it's called--no, wait, my "evaluator" (that's fun) talked to me for a little bit at the end. He was impressed with my college degree, and commented that I must be quite intelligent.

He asked if I was feeling anxious about this evaluation, and to be honest, this is kind of a cakewalk--at least so far. It's all on paper, there's been very little personal interaction. While I was in his office (part of which time was spent waiting), I was more anxious, but I was forewarned, and brought all my coping mechanisms today.

He gave me some forms to fill out either tonight or tomorrow in the evaluation--more testing what I like and what I value.

I'm feeling slightly anxious now--it's a feeling of walking on eggshells, of, I guess, vulnerability. That's usually a sign to watch out for triggers, because whatever happens next will help influence which way my mood will fall: depression, anxiety, or mania ...

i knit so no one has to die

2010-12-03T13:56:00.003-07:00

My friend DW sent me the link, and I thought I would pass it on to all of you.
If any one wants to buy me a present, and for some reason Girl Genius comics in physical form doesn't occur to you, then any of these fantastic knitting gifts would be appreciated:

i knit so no one has to die

Knitting Keeps Me From Unraveling

I Knit, Therefore I Am (always armed with two really sharp sticks, sturdy yarn, and scissors, so do not mess with me)

Just a few of my favorites.

Repeat After Me:

2010-12-03T11:10:00.002-07:00

Alcohol is poison.
But it's so much fun! How can fun be poison?
Because I had one small drink last night, around six, plenty of water afterward, and now ... 17 hours later, I still have an awful headache.
So, what lesson have we learned?
Alcohol continues to be poison.

I feel like it's a Catch-22: I react to alcohol more strongly now than when I was drinking more frequently, because I don't drink much ... but I stopped drinking as much, because it was starting to affect me more ...
So, I feel like it should be something I can work up to again, but at this point ... I don't know if it's worthwhile ... the headache and the general sense of having been poisoned will continue for at least the rest of the day, though I'll take something for the pain in a minute.

Gratitude Journal

2010-12-03T02:03:00.003-07:00

It's late, so I'm going to be brief ... in fact, I should probably save the story of my gratitude journals for another day.
I actually haven't written in my paper journal yet today ... but I will, just before I go to bed. And what I will write will be way too personal for this public blog.
So I will limit this note to:
1) I am grateful for my friend NF who has been the origin of many of the creative thoughts that have run through my brain lately. Just in case you read this, dear: you're great fun, and I hope to continue brainstorming with you.
2) I'm grateful to DP for understanding me and accepting me as I am.

Okay, I'm fucking tired. Time to get ready for bed.

A New Idea!

2010-12-02T14:18:00.002-07:00

Wow, they're just all over, aren't they? (New ideas.)

Well, I was reading dither's blog (again, you can follow this elegant and finely crafted link), wherein his comic got fan art! (Which is totally cool.)
Well, he has mentioned sprites before, but here he says the magic phrase: sprite comic format. I had to look it up. (See the other Wiki to see what I read.) And then DP clarified it for me.
Basically, you take static elements, and then put them together. Computer graphics, tiny pixellated blobs of color, and static backgrounds. You tell a story basically with props, instead of with amazing artwork.
Well, it takes me way too long to draw anything (I have, I can, but not in any sustained way, not really), and I don't have a video gaming or computer-related background. So here's how the idea morphed in my head:
Paper dolls!

I'm going to draw the backgrounds and dolls myself, including clothes and other props. I haven't decided yet how I'll put the whole thing together, but I have some options. The end product will be something basically comic-book-like, but I'll actually be able to produce it, and keep updating it.
This is exciting!

Trying Something New

2010-12-02T11:19:00.004-07:00

Actually, trying a few new things. Let's see if I can enumerate them all:

First: I'd like to try updating at least once per week. That feels really weak, but I know myself, and I know that when I'm manic it's totally easy for me to believe that I can update every day, and write three novels, and get back into deviantART and start planning my cooking show, etc. So, I'm starting small.

Second: To encourage myself to update more than once per week, I'm going to try to limit my updates. I have a tendency to write really long blog posts every three months, and I think that deters me from writing more often. I believe my friend dither (of the blog mentioned in the last update--and yes, I'm starting to actually think of you as dither, even though I first met you in real life ... ) has a minimum word requirement for his blogs: I might make a maximum requirement. No more than ... I don't know yet. I also don't want to say it, because this update will probably go (way) past it ...

Third: Without going into too much detail, my family attempted some open and honest communication this weekend ... the part that is pertinent to this is the part where I was told that I focus too much on the negative. Skipping over all the things I could say to that, even the ones I am remotely tempted to say in response to that, I'll just say that I started thinking about doing a gratitude journal again. Um, there's way too much there to sum up, so maybe that will be an extra update, but suffice it to say (for now) that I thought maybe it'd be a good idea to post ... not everything that I put in my paper gratitude journal, but some of it.

Fourth: I will go into my plan for this year (I make plans when manic) in another update, but I'd like to update you all on my various creative projects. I'll post pictures when that makes sense, or maybe snippets of writing that I'm doing, or whatever. I have ideas about what I'm going to do this coming year, and I'd like you all to be a part of it.

So, minimum number of posts per week + maximum number of words per post + at least two specific "topics" (which will go into different updates) = I think I'll update multiple times per week.
Okay, so this post is a little over four hundred and fifty words total. I think I might place the cap at five hundred. I'll have to look at what this post looks like to be certain, but I think that's it.

Love you all, thanks for reading.

broken girl

2010-11-14T16:44:00.003-07:00

Hey, I'm writing!
It's crazy, I know. It's November, which means I'm busily working on a novel, and, as a rule, I only update Facebook in November, and that's mostly just word count.
Also, I'm sick, which means I should be drinking orange juice and sipping tea and eating soup all day long, from the comfort of my bed, right?
Well, I have had both orange juice and soup, I've got some tea right in front of me, and I've been in bed a lot of the day. But I also wrote over 2,250 words today, and I watched an episode of Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne (one of my favorite animes) with DP (before a short nap).
Now I'm up, because I'm drinking more tea, and I'm looking at--and being inspired by--a friend's blog. (See it through this elegant and finely-crafted link.)
So, I'm inspired to write in my blog. I don't think I can do multiple daily updates, but maybe I can do multiple weekly updates?
Maybe?

So, NaNo update, since I'm here:
Finished all the Changeling stories, yay! The last one's a bit short, but once I can slow down some, I'll be able to flesh it out.
I find that when I'm able to write slowly, my first drafts are not very rough, because I'm taking at least a year to write a long story. But when I'm writing a story in a matter of days, it's very rough, and I'm interested in finding out how long the first revision process will take.
I started Lifechanger today, or rather, I started finishing Lifechanger today. It's last year's NaNo, and I'm actually very proud of it, because I basically took MANY threads my brain was chewing on around that time and wove it together into a complex novel with an interesting storyline. (Especially once I figure out what role the mother plays ... )
And it's not proving that hard to get back into it, even with Changeling making my brain all twisted and dark and scary ... yes, just as though it weren't already.

Oh, and I've hit the halfway mark. Go me!

Please Comment

2010-09-29T10:09:00.002-06:00

Multiple people have noted that they are not able to leave comments on my blog, and my friend Hari suggested that individual blogs are just having comment comment issues.
I've changed people-who-can-comment from "Registered User" to "Anyone", even though that means I will get lots of links to porn sites in my comments. Do me the favor (please), of attempting to comment. If you can't, let me know either via email or Facebook, or the next time you see me, whatever.

Also, I would like to note that my friend Hari did some research for me, and presented me with a word I had seen once, but forgotten about: arils, which are the little seedfruits of a pomegranate. Thanks, Hari!

How to Eat a Pomegranate

2010-09-25T21:10:00.006-06:00

Pomegranate season begins. My favorite. Pomegranates are tart, sticky, sweet, crunchy, and just filled with yumminess. I first tasted them last year, and this year I'm hoping to learn to cook with them maybe, or add them to salads at least (they might be a good substitute for cranberries in my Crannberry Quinoa Salad).
But, my first pomegranate of the season is simply going to be eaten. And shared with all of you, of course. This post is a tutorial: How to Eat a Pomegranate.
Of course, you can just cut one in half and rip these seeds out, spilling juice everywhere and sacrificing seeds ... but in my opinion, pomegranates are just too good to waste even a single seed. Plus, I always hated it when I had slices of orange, rather than the natural segments ... I feel the same way about pomegranates.

This is the pomegranate I bought. It's on the stove because there's strong light there, for my pictures.
Get two bowls: one for the fruit (seeds), and one for the flesh (the skin, the pith). Cut four (or three or five, but I'm drawn to four, even though pomegranates are slightly pentagonal in shape) slits in the center, starting from the crown. Don't make them very deep. Cut out the crown, but again, be careful. Leave white pith showing.
Peel the skin away from the fruit. You will get juice on your hands (because seeds will be cut or will burst under the pressure of your fingertips, no matter how careful you are), and it's sticky. Lick it off, it's yummy.
Pith will stick to the seeds. Pull it off, it's not as yummy.
As you peel, seeds will come off in your hands, place them in the seed collecting bowl (or you can eat the whole thing as you go, but I like to save them all up, and then have a bowl of yummy fruit to eat without interruption). Place the peels and other pieces in the other bowl.

Sorry for the darkness of the picture ... it was a hard shot to get, with me using both my hands to pull apart this goddess of yummy yumminess.
Grab hold of the pith; do your best to always exert pressure on the pith and skin, rather than on the seeds. Aside from the aforementioned "seed loss", if a seed explodes in your face, the juice will sting your eyes.
Rip it in half. It's a delicate process, but it's also fun, because you can't be too delicate with it, if you want the fruit to pull apart.
If there are any seeds that are less vibrant or squishier than the others, throw those in the discard bowl; they're not as yummy.
Tear the fruit into small segments and sort of brush the seeds off the membrane walls. Some will need more force, but mostly be gentle with your fruit, or it will bruise or burst.
Keep going until you have a bowl of yummy fruit!
Now, sit down with something yummy to drink (like tea or wine), a book (I'm reading shine, coconut moon, by Neesha Meminger) or a movie, and enjoy yourself with a delicious snack. Doesn't it look amazing and yummy?