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Apr. 5th, 2011

(no subject)

It really is hard to believe that I finished Part 2 over a month ago and how little progress has been made with Part 3. I'd love to say it's a time and energy thing, and that school has been eating me, but it's not. The truth is, I spent most of March working on it. Three weeks of every day writing. All that's come out of it are a few solid character descriptions and a lot of back story. That happens a lot when I introduce new characters. When it comes to writing, things like story and tone come naturally. It's always character and their psychology that I trip the most over.

When I read science fiction and fantasy, one of the things I despise the most are how caricature-like the characters are. Arguably that's one of the reasons I dislike the genres in the first place and also probably why I distance myself from it so much when I write. For the most part, the character creation is GODAWFUL. The emphasis is put almost entirely on the worlds and not on the people who fill them. Characters are bland, trite, pointlessly snarky. I'll die before I let my characters be like that.

So if you want an excuse of why it's taking me so damn long, it's that.

That and I've been fiddling with some Part 1 material. I've rewritten a few of the earlier chapters, like one, two and three. I think they're FINALLY where I want them--but then again I've rewritten these entirely at least three times before. People have liked them, but from a writing standpoint they didn't do a good enough job of establishing my characters. That's the real challenge of Part 1 for me--introducing my characters and how they treat Roman in a way that'll set the tone for the rest of the book. Yes, Cloudnigh is about evolution on the grander scale, but it's also about personal evolution. And Roman's personal changes, while present in some of my early drafts, aren't done to the point where I feel like I have a solid foundation for the book to stand on. There are also some world building challenges I'm struggling with, too.

On an unrelated note, I finished A Feast For Crows finally. Definitely the first fantasy series to hook me since His Dark Materials. Maybe it was the split with Dance, but I really didn't like the book as well as I did the others, although it is abundantly clear that the fecal matter is about to hit the rudimentary air conditioning. I am waiting, and mindblowingly stoked for A Dance with Dragons.

Back to Cloudnigh, I suppose. I'm really eager to finish a chapter or two of Part 3 that I can share on here. I've got a sample up on Cloudnigh's Facebook. Check it if you feel like it!

Thanks for reading!

Mar. 11th, 2011

(no subject)

Lots of things are changing. My confidence. My volition. My tolerances.

Somehow I'm still a generous, caring, loving, passionate person. But I'm a different generous, caring, loving, passionate person than I was a year ago. Or two. Or five. Or nine. And I have no tolerance when people close to me make stupid decisions. Or fuck me over. Or fuck themselves over.

Lots of questions. Lots of answers.

Nov. 14th, 2009

(no subject)

Figured I'd ditch that last depressive post with my first artdump in years.



Yeah. I think I got a little better. I still can't draw straight lines.

Life's good. Got a job at my school writing lab. Working on an online novel called Cloudnigh. Stuff's kinda nifty.

Bigger update some other time.

Jun. 16th, 2009

(no subject)

I got new headphones the other day... Skullcandy again. I must be a glutton for punishment--I swear. At least this time they're GIs instead of Hesh, which although expensive as fuck, are kind of nice. My first pair of Skullcandy's were GIs, but they were noticeably less pimped out than these are. Oh well. Brands will be brands.

Besides that... God I want to quit my job. Or something. Transfer to a less busy store. Anything. I'm so sick of dealing with our customer stock that I don't know what to do. Seriously--I'm so sick of explaining what the fuck the difference between a grande and venti it would boggle the mind. DUDE. I AM PRETTY MUCH CONTRACTUALLY NOT ALLOWED TO CALL IT A LARGE. THAT WOULD DEFEAT THE PURPOSE OF THE COMPANY HAVING AN IMAGE. SORRY THAT I CAN'T CONTROL IT. Sheesh.

aosdfhp. This job makes me feel so fake. I mean, come on, people, I am not forever energetic and happy. I have my moods, and lately I'm incredibly grumpy about not having the time to write. That, and I seem to have this energy kick where I find it hard to move. Proof I need to change my diet. aioioioiodfjkl.

Oh, this is cute. So, about two, three months ago, this random kid walked up to me and hugged me when I was doing a recycle run. A few weeks ago, I saw her and her boyfriend when doing out door seating. They came into the store today and we talked for a bit. They're really young, but really cool kids. GMH (gives me hope), seriously.

Just a general rant... not much really to say.

Apr. 21st, 2009

(no subject)

It took 14 months, but...

Draft One of Lanternfly is done.

331 manuscript pages, 170,000 words. adruigjkhaeoprshdnkl.

*sleeps*

Apr. 17th, 2009

(no subject)

Ugh, welcome to fire season in college. Not that there are any flames here, just the burnt out husks of college students staggering around. This semester, I am one of them.

One chapter left to go before I finish Lanternfly--finish being the operative word. I can't tell you how much I've bitched to people about how much the last three chapters suck. Not conceptually--just poorly written.

Today I found out I'm probably going to have to take an incomplete on my independent study--not because I didn't do all the work (in fact, given the 250-page minimum was based on doublespaced pages, I exceeded it four times over. LF is 600 pages.), but because none of the panel judges have the time or the energy to read a 600 page book. Now, the only worry I have is housing-related. In fact, I may be panicking and just not know it from how fucking tired I am. I've never had to take an incomplete before. Then again, I am the first student at Champlain in the program's 8 year history to write a novel in four months.

Erik did throw me a bone or two, though. I'm not sure if I heard him right, but the plan now is to spend time on a second draft this summer to get it readable, and toss it to a panel this summer, possibly for more credits. He even suggested me talking to Tim about completing the study by finally publishing Lanternfly by December 2010, or looking into that. Being that was sort of my goal anyway, I'm psyched at that possibility. No idea what might happen, though. To be honest, I'm waaaaaaay too fucking tired to think about it.

Housing selection was the other night. I'm moving out of the 8-person Spinner 720 suite and into 510 with Will, Shibs and Alex Schwartz. Three metal heads. Three nerds. Three Friendlies/Anime addicts. 2009-2010 will be a good year.

Gonna go die. LOLBRB.

Mar. 10th, 2009

(no subject)

To-do list this morning:

1. Class at 8AM (fuck my life)
2. Homework (editing Endoflux for class, which I do NOT want to do)
3. 2 HOUR CLASS OF DEATH OMGWTF AEORRZXDFKLAROIFH4389023WED
4. LANTERNFLY WRITING (FINALLY!!!)

203 pages of LF, 104,000 words. RAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGHHH!!!!!

Feb. 1st, 2009

(no subject)

THIS. IS. SO. FUCKING. CUTE. OMFG.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bq4rzCIc6rg

OAERHGDFOPHAEGW09IORDFKLSJ0PQ349EIORWDFJKLSCMPAEIOURJKDFGN9P8OQ34WIEJRd0[fpoacidks;lgjnpq9ao

*BECOMES SO HAPPY HE STARTS BLOWING UP SECTIONS OF BURLINGTON WITH HIS MIND*

(no subject)

There's something weird about looking at my archives and seeing six years (we're almost into the seventh) year of near-daily posts, and then all of a sudden this massive taper-off at the end of 2008, beginning of 2009. It's weird to think I may have outgrown this thing. But I really don't have much to say here any more. Actually, I don't have anything to say--nothing that I can't say to my friends or keep in my own head.

Something in my head snapped at the start of 2009. It's the second year something like that has happened--first in 2008 with the whole writing thing, and now in 2009 with friends and the internet. A while ago, I started doing something I haven't done in almost ten years--signing offline whenever I'm not at the computer. I think part of me was getting sick of all those stupid "WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME????" IMs from people, but another part hated the idea that I was always connected, potentially, to a bunch of idiots. Lex would have said to them, "oh, it's just how he works," but really, what's the damn point of being on if you're not there? I rarely am any more. The people just seem to distract me too much.

Life recently has been a reaching plain, littered with mountains and very few ravines. Crashing hasn't been something I've been doing a lot of. I think a part of me is satisfied with where I am at the moment, where another, the part of me that is still trying to get me to alter things is more subdued. The writing is going mostly well, when I'm not being distracted by people walking into the coffee shops and expecting hours of my time. Even some of the more intellectual regulars are starting to bug me these days. For the first time in years I've been lit with this uninterpretable flame driving me to create. I'm writing in down-moments in class, in the caf, in my dorm, on my breaks at work--any minute I can get. Its quite lovely, really.

I've been spending a lot of time with Shibs and Will lately, and Mollie and Jet (NEW FRIEND!!!!111!11!one) on weekends. The events speak for themselves--nerdism, drawing penii on bar coasters, confusing waiters, spending way too much time at VPB, having bittersweet conversations about the winter, our jobs, our lack thereof, and other things.

I think I'm just contented with who I am right now. There really aren't any glaring insecurities to write down, private or otherwise. Times like this really make me nostalgic for some reason. Don't pretend to know why.

Alright, better pack my ass up and head downtown for some write-and-write, then Shibs-hanging.

Jan. 24th, 2009

(no subject)

I had the most incredible sensory-related dream today.

I was drifting off into a nap, when all of a sudden I stumble out of bed for some reason, and go to the window. Peeking through, I discover snow blowing wildly against the window screen. Then, all of a sudden, there's a whooshing noise and everything begins to go white. The next thing I know the air is being pushed out of my lungs and the world is fading.

I open my eyes, expecting to be dead--if that makes any sense--and realize it was just a dream.

Yeah, that was totally one of the wildest pieces of unconscious weirdness in a long time. Ever actually FEEL like your transcending spacetime in a dream?

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