Weekend reminiscing/Anyone want to donate a join code?

First off:

Does anyone have an LJ join code they wouldn’t mind giving up? One of our visiting friends expressed an interest in starting his very own blog and I’ve used up my “one to a customer” free account code already. Thanks!

Next, the weekend:

Had a fantastic one. Made it hard to get up for work this morning. Went to visit the kangaroos with Dean and Chris on Saturday and that evening Matthew ran a fabu one-shot tabletop game. Interestingly, both Dean and Chris are enough out of the gaming loop that they were both all “huh?” when we were discussing tabletop RPGs versus live-action. They’d never heard of LARPs before.

Jumped off the caffeine wagon with both feet on Saturday. Same with the Clonazepam one. There’s a relationship. Did a lot of work on the Cricket rewrites over the weekend. Finished one and sent it off. Still want to do a few more passes on the other before mailing it, but it’s mostly done. Then it’s all nail biting and cross-fingered waiting.

But somehow, the ergonomic situation of our home computer isn’t good for me. After spending a bunch of hours working on it, I ended up in a lot of pain come late Friday, so I took a Clonazepam. This resulted in me being in a zombie fugue state on Saturday, so had some coffee to dig myself out my brain fog.

But I went back to taking neither for the rest of the weekend with no repercussions. Perhaps I’ve kicked the physiological dependency and can go back to a judicious use of both. We’ll see. But I think cutting out my obligatory cup of java in the morning is a good thing.

Still very jazzed about the Cricket rewrites. Not as jazzed as two sales would’ve made me, but almost.

Rewrite rewrite rewrite

Eee! Just checked the mail and got TWO rewrite requests. One from Cricket and one from Cicada!

Actually, no wait, it’s two rewrite requests from Cricket! I’d subbed a story to both markets but they’re run by the same folks, same editor, and she thinks the story I subbed for Cicada would work better for Cricket if I toned a little of the harsh edges down.

Eee! The last time they asked me to do a rewrite it resulted in a sale. Hopehopehopehopehope. Two (more) sales to Cricket would really make my year.

Nostalgia: His and Hers

A couple of Matthew’s college chums are visiting over the weekend. There’s been much housecleaning. I’m not sure what we’ll be doing for these next few days, but I expect a shopping trip and a gaming night will be in there. It’ll be fun seeing old friends getting back together again, even if it is a second hand sort of reunion for me, being the stray spousal type and all.

Coincidentally, I got an invite to my 15-year high school reunion in the mail the other day. I even gave it passing consideration, but I couldn’t justify paying the admission costs, airfare, and whatever accommodations we’d end up with. I do wonder, though, who will show and what they’re doing now.

My high school is a pretty unique institution. For admission, prospective students have to go through a rigorous application process, sort of a pre-college experience where you take an aptitude test, write an entrance essay, list your extra-curricular activities, and get academic references, all during sixth grade. Subsequently, the first year in that school isn’t “freshmen” year, but “subfreshmen,” which is a melding of seventh and eighth grade. This also bumps most of the student body up another year in acceleration. The majority of students there graduate a year or two ahead of their peers, as a good number of them have been accelerated in previous grades (raises hand). Hence, I graduated from high school when I was sixteen.

It’s an excellent school. When I was a student there, the whole student body numbered at two hundred and fifty heads, with fifty per graduating class. I think they’ve increased that to sixty since then, but the overall numbers are quite intimate. Students there really do know everyone in their class, and to a lesser extent, everyone in the school. It offers(ed) a wide range of languages like Russian, Japanese, and Latin, as well as the more traditional French and German. And their math and sciences department is unparalleled. My old school has often achieved the honor of being the highest scoring in the nation on the ACTs and SATs.

And yet even with such an illustrious achievement record, one still has to take into account that the kids who attend(ed) my school are and were still just that. Kids. Precocious and clever, yes. But there was still a lot of cliquish behavior, and bullies. Can’t forget the bullies. It was a bastion of insecurity and petty cruelties, like high schools everywhere, perhaps made worse by the highly competitive nature of the place. I look back on those years with a blend of dismay and fondness. I really did learn a lot back then–both academically and socially. I grew into the person I am now, learned to question and doubt, and learned the very important lesson that what I did had consequences. I also learned that some people’s preferred method of feeling better about themselves is by stepping on other people. In other words, I grew up. In many ways I’m very much the same person I was then–my beliefs, my outlook on life, my proclivities–but in others I’ve changed; I’ve come into myself. But, really, I mean, how can someone not change in fifteen years? I’m very curious to see how my classmates have also changed, and I wonder how much of the young people I remember remain.

If we still lived in the Midwest, I might consider going back for it. But I can’t rationalize the expense of flying to a section of America that is truly ugly, flat, and dull, for my high school reunion.

I hope whoever covers the event for the Alumni Newsletter takes lots of pictures.

Withdrawal and Squick

Went back to work today. Still feeling rather fragile. I think going cold turkey on both the caffeine and the Clonazepam at the same time was probably a questionable executive decision on my part. Perhaps ironically, it’s the caffeine’s absence that I’m feeling most acutely. I got a lot of clarity back when I went off the Clonazepam. Lost it when I went off the java. But I assume that’s temporary and will lift when the withdrawal headache/fatigue does. My head feels like it’s been mushed over by a steamroller.

I don’t plan for this abstemious phase to be permanent. I still want to take the Clonazepam since I tolerate it reasonably well and it works on my TOS. And I like caffeine too much to just give up. But I’m tired of being dependant on either. So I’m giving them up for a couple weeks to reset my tolerance levels. Again, probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever done to quit both at the same time.

Ouch.

Did a couple more passes on the Horror story. Matthew’s reluctant to first-reader it because I told him what my inspiration was. He’ll still do it, but I’m going to have to poke and prod him to it.

It’s interesting; his squick factor is so much lower than mine when it comes to reading gore and blood, but it’s so much higher when it comes to watching it on the big screen. Or even the not-so-big screen. He refers to “Wintergod,” the story I sold to The Quiet Ward as the “yicky one.” Got another story he responds to that way that’s currently short-listed at an anthology I subbed it to. Apparently, gore appeals to some editors.

On one level I’m pleased to have been able to affect his emotions with my writing. After all, I think the hallmark of really excellent writing is something that gets the reader emotionally involved. On another level I’m dismayed that he’s so yucked-out by something I created. I’m the first to admit that these stories are graphic and blood-smeared, but I tend to think of Matthew as having a stronger stomach than me. After all, he can watch people being flayed alive (i.e. Hellraiser I, II, etc.) without flinching, while I go scampering out of the room with my hands over my ears, eyes averted. It took me three full viewings of Sixth Sense before I’d seen the whole thing through without shutting my eyes through parts of it. I am that much of a wimp.

So I guess I’m left with the question: Is writing fiction with content in it that makes grown men recoil a good thing?

Maybe I should write something fluffy next. With cute, fuzzy animals.

3-day into 4-day weekend

Woke up this morning feeling light-headed and woozy. Thought briefly about getting up, showering, and driving to work. Decided against it.

Going back to bed. But first:

Available for pre-order at Shocklines.com: Asylum Volume 3: The Quiet Ward! There’d be more jumping up and down and hurraying except I’m afraid my head would tumble off my shoulders if I did that. So, I’ll just quietly whisper a “yay.”

Lightnin’ fast publishing

Got an email from the editor of The Quiet Ward with a copy of the contract that will be snail mailing its way to me from the publisher for “The Reign of the Wintergod” as well an update on the publishing schedule. Cover art will be finalized this weekend, and the first edit is already at the typesetters.

The book is totally on track for coming out Horrorfind weekend. That’s in three weeks. Wow. Talk about hot presses!

Unexpected three-day weekend

Think there’s a low pressure front moving through or something. Matthew woke me up this morning thrashing around in the throes of one of his migraines, and my head feels like someone’s compressing it in a vise. Although at least it’s not a super-sized, industrial vise, as these things go.

Matthew’s migraine meds are kicking in and he’s finally drifting off to sleep, but I’m not sure what analgesic to take that won’t do scary things combined with my Methotrexate, so I’m just having some coffee to let the caffeine do its brainy vascular goodness. And I’m taking a sick day.

In better news, either due to meditating on writing before bedtime, or not taking my clonazepam, or the synergistic effect of both, yesterday I finished my zero draft of the horror story I’ve been writing. 2000 more words, fork stuck in. Woo!

to william_mize for reminding me that my brain is a powerful instrument of which processes I am in control of, not the other way around.

Actually, I don’t think it’s quite at zero draft stage, but the story’s down from beginning to end, and I stamped the all important words “The End” on it. I’m going to do a few more passes over it before showing it to Matthew–after I figure out a way to get the vise constricting my head off–and then I’m tossing it up to Critters.org for the masses to pick apart. This one gets an advisory warning in front of it for gore. Surprisingly, when I’ve posted warnings like that before, it hasn’t decreased the number of crits I’ve gotten. I sometimes wonder if that sort of warning intrigues people rather than frightening them away.

Owie owie owie. My head hurts more than my arms do! But I wrote. Yep. I suffer for my art. Literally.

Stupid physiology.

Writing update: better.

I tried doing william_mize‘s writing meditation suggestion last night to try to free up a little word count processing. It seems to have resulted in two very disparate outcomes.

1. I had a lot of really vivid, very celebrity-oriented erotic dreams. The first of which involved James Marsters as Spike–as in the guy who was getting all hot and sweaty with me was a blond vampire with amazing cheekbones and not an actor (with amazing cheekbones) playing a blond vampire. No complaints there! That was all dreamscapey goodness. But then it segued into a shower scene where Matthew and I were sharing a shower stall with Will Smith–a very tall, and dressed in black Spandex Will Smith. And that was a bit strange as while I like Will Smith as an actor, he doesn’t twang my hubba-hubba buttons. And he was showering in spandex, which struck even my dream self as being somewhat peculiar.

2. 1000 words on my new horror story. Woohoo! But I ground to a stop after that like a switch had gone off in my writing-processor. Usually I sort of coast to a stop and jot down a few notes as a pick-up place for my next writing session. This time I came slammed to a “no-more-words” place like I’d hit a wall going 60 mph. It was weird, but I consider 1K in a sitting pretty good progress these days, so I shrugged, saved, and powered down.

I also didn’t take my Clonazepam last night, even though my arms have been tingling and aching more of late. I think it’s making my brain too fuzzy and I wanted to give my system a day or two off it. So I’m not sure if it was the meditation, the absence of benzodiazepam in my system, or both that allowed me to crank out another four+ pages of manuscript, but I’m willing to experiment.