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Showing posts from 2017

Coda's first novel's rough draft is done.

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I already want to make a ton of changes but I have a Brönte paper to revise and the first act for my script to finish.


Two chapters to go.

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1:30 AM Inspirational Message

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Game of Thrones - Winds of Winter withdrawal...

Ropee: More posts about butterflies

São Paulo is guaranteed in the first division for another season.

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That's the good news. The bad news is we still suck.

Ropee's Story - Part 1 - End of Day 15 Progress.

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Finally!

Ropee's Story - Progress Report - Day 15 (early morning)

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I made big strides over the last few days. The story is getting clearer for me. It's still a lot to shove into 50000 words but I'll fix that in the revision.

Next Please

Ropee's Story - Part 1 - Progress Report Day 13.

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All's well so far. Will need significant revision but story is working.


Ropee's story - part 1 - nanowrimo

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I've fallen a little behind but the story has me in its thrall. Not worried. We're getting there.

So when is the next grrm book coming?

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When it comes.

George R. R. Martin gets a lot of crap for not writing his 400,000-word novels quickly enough. If you read his blog, he is incredibly blasé about people bitching. I wanted to share this post by John Scalzi (Old Man's War, The Android Dream, etc) that addresses author productivity.

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2011/07/17/a-small-observation-regarding-words-and-releases/

Neil Gaiman said it more bluntly: "George R.R. Martin is not your bitch.”

It must suck, but there are rewards too:



Keep writing and make it fun!

Oxford Comma Reminder

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A Fun Collection of Thought Provoking Stories.

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Quantum Physics & My Dog Bob: stories by Pat Rushin
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Quantum Physics & My Dog Bob by Pat Rushin consists of 2 novelettes, 6 short stories, and 2 pieces of flash fiction. Throughout the collection, beyond-the-pale characters are challenged by the day-to-day struggle of being human. What they learn is often transferable to real life.

Piece by piece (word count):

"Vow" (2300) - a man makes a vow of silence and keeps it. The day I read this I experienced the frustration of how my spoken words were often banal. My thought that day: Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all speak in character dialogue and avoid life's clutter? I often wonder whether my voice adds anything to the discourse or whether I’m just speaking automatically, drawing feathery response after feathery response but never adding depth. Also, if you are searching for a story where the protagonist is essentially mute, look no further.

"This is Just to, Like, Clue You" (7100) - I…

The Obsidian Heart Brings Echoes of Empire into Focus!

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The Obsidian Heart by Mark T. Barnes
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Mark Barnes does incredible world building. It's extraordinary and many-layered, which can almost stun the reader with its complexity, at least that is how I feel reading the stories. On the other hand, there is no denying how many details he keeps in the air at once, and how they matter, which is a huge payback for the reader's investment.
I didn't connect with his characters in the first novel of the series but in Obsidian Heart, there is so much loss and suffering. Barnes kills several of my favorite characters in the story, and the others aren't in very good situations at the end either.
In fact, now I'm really looking forward to finishing the series because I'm worried about who will make it out alive. I'm also worried about the ambitions of characters I like. I'm stunned by the stupidity and greed of some characters, but more than that, it is the sacrifice of Indris's friends that mes…

Two Appetites in Communion

FADE IN INT. CLUB - NIGHT It's a rave Halloween party at a club. In the pit, people dance in a dazzling light show. Lithe DESTINY, dressed as a psychedelic vampire, has captured the band's attention.

They play to her as she to them, thrusting her hips, gyrating, flailing, all in perfect rhythm. She mesmerizes. A pentacle hanging from her beaded bra top catches the light.
JON HARKER, 50ish, and his sidekick RENFIELD, a bit younger, squeezed against the rail in a box above the dancers, flinch as the reflected beam traces across their faces. RENFIELD Thank heaven for little girls. HARKER She's Felicity. Quincey dumped her. Said she was too slutty. RENFIELD So I'm drooling over your son's reject. What does that make me? HARKER Mortal and a man with great taste. Can you imagine riding her? Those legs clutching your back? RENFIELD Dude, you can't be serious. HARKER I can too be. 'Too slutty' sounds like a cure right now. I've been in fap rotation for months since our marriage hit the…

Always Check First.

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A Contrast in Appetites

Out in front of the band, art in motion, she dances, her rhythmic whirling mesmerizing me. The light plays off her serpentine curves, and I realize I’m no longer watching the Halloween show I paid $40 to see, but her, Felicity, once my son’s girlfriend, dumped for being too slutty.

I’ve been in fap rotation for months since my marriage with Jen hit the rocks. I begged her not to leave, swearing we could work out our troubles, but she moved in with a stockbroker a month ago. Since then, it’s been virtual dates with sympathetic social media friends, trying my luck (it is bad) with online dating apps, and that old standard: paying strippers for lap dances and pleading for more.

Seeing Felicity, though, my skin tingles and my mouth goes dry. 'Too slutty' sounds like a cure for everything ailing me.

From my vantage point, I perceive she is getting monumentally wasted. She dabs, hits g-pens, gobbles edibles, imbibes liquids, takes pills, smokes joints, and even has a beer. Conservative…

Definitions.

Ah, success so saccharine! Here I shake in the corner sand off the sides of my hourglass, remembering those grains spent carrying leaky buckets for gold while hungry mariachis dodge pelted fruit.

Lying on a park bench, eyes clenched afraid of the spotlight, afraid it misses me, here on this bold tarmac where I've tossed my dice. What if there is nothing more than empty boxes,  these presentsI’ve laid at your feet, 
my gumdrops of suffering and blood?
If I respin this roulette wheel, with my chips on odd instead of uneven, tell me how it would be for me to pledge to art's uncertainty. Might I have profited more to revel in the scent of every petal?

Or rather should my sand be spent on gold-encrusted electronic gizmos, ceiling-to-floor plasma-screens, Versace Barocco pet bowls, diamond-studded fish hooks, and a never-driven Lamborghini?
No, I'm keeping my chips on the table betting my life grain by grain, knowing every moment I toil passionate, committed, self-aware exceeds the assurances of myth ped…

Irma, you didn't have to take me so seriously.

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