Category Archives: LJ

Writing Stuff:

Four critiques from Critters so far. It’s been a mixed bag. I’m trying to be introspective-ish and determine whether I’m feeling argumentative or if I just hit two in a row that were abnormally ucky. Typically, I rattle off a fairly short, neutral “thank you” to my critiques regardless of what they say (unless I know the person or they say something interesting or their critique was particularly helpful, in which case my “thank you”s are often longer and chatty). But this time, I took up arms not once but TWICE. Not because I had problems with what they said in their critiques regarding whether they liked something, or whether the story worked for them, but because one of them was wrong and the other seemed either terribly misguided or terribly judgmental.

One critter informed me that I should decrease my use of adverbs. Now, “less is more with adverbs” is a philosophy I agree with, and espouse. But then he went on to point out instances of my “adverb” usage to illustrate his point. To whit:
“The words hung like gossamer threads before fading away.”

Do you see an adverb in there? I don’t. He took issue with the “like gossamer threads” part. That isn’t an adverb; it’s a simile. My similes, metaphors, symbolism, and analogies are intentional, often carefully and painstakingly crafted constructs. They ain’t no adverbs.

Okay, English grammar is confusing. I’ve had people say dumber things in critiques, no biggie. But then he went on to say that I overused personal pronouns and it was a “woman thing” to do so. The sentence in question: “She stroked a paw over her soft ear.” This critter thought I should change “her” to “the.” Aside from the character in question (a rabbit), there’s a bear and a roomful of men in this room. I think I’m well within my rights to point out whose ear is being stroked. Fine, he didn’t agree. But it’s girlie to use personal pronouns? WTF?

Then I got a critique from someone who apparently had some major issues with the subject matter. I did warn at the very top that there was “Mention of graphic violence and child abuse” in it–yes, in my bunny and bear story. It’s also clearly labeled as horror. But she read it anyway. Her comments:
“It’s well-suited to a dark fantasy-horror publication, one with a readership that craves twisted tales of abuse and murder. Hopefully in such a magazine, it would serve as a catharsis to whatever antisocial urges the readers possess, and not as a springboard propelling those with pre-existing psychological and/or sexual aberrations to justify re-enacting the depressing deeds -i.e. rape as entertainment – herein described.”

I got the implication here that she thinks that all readers (and writers) of horror and dark fantasy are sickos who have antisocial urges and “pre-existing psychological and/or sexual aberrations” that they unleash by reading/writing, which otherwise they’d slake in some less socially acceptable manner. *blink*

Maybe I’m reading too much into these critiques, but they served to miff me. I haven’t sent my responses yet. I’m sitting on them until I’m certain I want to. Normally I consider myself thick-skinned when it comes to both feedback and rejection. Is it me, or did I coincidentally run into two extremes in a row?

Watched Scooby Doo 2 last night. That’s nearly two hours of my life I won’t be getting back. I went in with low expectations, and they were set too high. Blah.

Writing Stuff:

Heard back from the car people. It was the alternator in my Accord. Apparently it broke. The strange whining noise we heard was the bearings humming and whirling around where they shouldn’t be. It cost $560 to fix. Ugh.

Finished reading Incubus Dreams. LKH has definitely made her writing much more erotic and much less horror and mayhem of late. The plot parts did pick up toward the end, but she didn’t wrap up the crime case she’d opened, just jammed a sort of placeholder in, not exactly a cliff-hanger, but not a proper “it’s done” resolution either. I prefer there to be more storyline in 650+ pages. There were juicy sex scenes, but there were so damn many of them that I ended up feeling rather jaded from all the various and sundry Anita boinking, not to mention my suspension of disbelief was pretty put upon. Plus, one of my favorite characters is Asher, and he didn’t get any screen-time at all.

Still, it was fun. LKH continues to write well enough to keep me sucked in, but there’s a decided diminishing in quality to this series. Sigh. Pretty par for any series, so I guess I shouldn’t be disappointed. And yet . . .

Writing Stuff:

Definitely feeling better today. I’m still either oversleeping or undersleeping, but I think I’m doing more over than under. Regardless of my questionable sleep habits, I think my mood is beginning to lighten. It’s amazing how therapeutic weekends can be.

Watched the debate on Thursday. Well, actually, watched mostly the second half of the debate. I slept through the beginning. Generally, I found it to be an exercise in frustration. Unsurprisingly, George W. debates like a babbling idiot. He utterly failed to give any sort of reasonable accounting of his various and myriad failures with regard to his overseas policies. He repeated himself a lot, which got tedious fast. And his stammering, uncertain presentation–par for his public speaking skills–continued to be a resounding confidence dimmer. I’m totally sympathetic with people being hesitant, weak public speakers, as long as they’re not the President of the United States. George W. needs remedial Toastmasters training.

On the other hand, Kerry missed some really obvious zingers. George W. said (about half a dozen times) that if the U.S. hadn’t moved against Iraq, they would have kept doing what they were doing . . . which was nothing. Yet Kerry didn’t hammer that point. And why didn’t Kerry pounce on the fact that George W. refers to the U.S.’s invasion of Iraq as a victory? George W. thinks contractors being kidnapped and beheaded, and Iraqi children getting bombed when they’re being given candy by U.S. soldiers constitutes a “victory”? Puhleeze.

Blah. As debates go, that was exceedingly lame. Although at least it should be obvious who won. Kerry was informed, confident, and poised. George W. was a blustering, blithering, tongue-tied fool who perpetually looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

On that note, an amusing link: Students for an Orwellian Society. “Because 2004 is 20 years too late”

Writing Stuff:

Also wrote two critiques for my Critter Litter writers group. It was a revise and critique sort of night.

Since the aggressive self-medication tactic didn’t work out so well, I went back to my usual mug of green tea this morning. Ended up with a throbbing headache and pronounced shortness of breath. I think my body is out to get me.

My mother and my step-dad are flying in this weekend for a short visit. I wonder if the stress from that impending encounter is contributing to my overall state of misery–ya think? They aren’t staying for very long, but I’m still fretful.

Writing Stuff:

Halloween story progress: 230 words.

Another project I picked up after dropping a couple years ago: 1.6K words (completing the story at something over 4K). It’s very rough, and I’m definitely not achieving the emotional impact I was going for, which was the reason I set it aside in the first place. But I forced myself to finish it working on the philosophy that it’s easier to rewrite once I have something down, rather than agonize over how to do it. It’s at zero draft, but it still needs a lot of work before I want to show it to Matthew to first reader.

I seem to be on a “finish unfinished works” kick, which is great, but weird.

This morning, driving into work, it was quite dark–a symptom of the various hurricane effects moving through the state. The air was soft and cool, but not cold. Walking from the parking lot to my car, I reveled in the sensuous nature of the wind on my face, streaking through my hair. I found myself dragging my feet, trying to prolong that brief walk for as long as I could. I knew that by the time I emerged from my office again, the air would have changed–become more oppressive or rainier–so the only opportunity I would have to savor that particular feel in the air was then. Throughout the morning, I prairie-dogged my head over my cubicle walls to glance with longing out the bank of windows that line the end of my aisle. Storms are pretty. It was hard sitting at my desk this morning.

I’m having mood issues. It’s like there’s two of me, the emotional part that I can feel in the center of my chest, all weepy and unhappy, and the intellectual part of me that acknowledges that I’m feeling free-floating blueness, and is both annoyed and flummoxed by it. My emotions are flying all over the spectrum with no causal factor to speak of. One moment, I get that heavy ache in my chest that makes me want to cry, and the next moment, I’m fine but troubled by the emotional teeter-totter I appear to be on.

I can’t blame the meds I’m on, particularly. I’m off the Prednisone at long last and just taking Imuran to control my Lupus/MCTD. The Imuran shouldn’t, as far as I’m aware, have mood side effects. So I guess it’s just me. I assume that my irregular sleep habits are playing a large role, but aside from trying to regiment my sleep better, there’s not a lot I can do about them. Matthew suggested that I start doing yoga regularly again, and I agree that that’s an excellent suggestion. But it’s something of a Catch 22. I feel morose, and hence I’m disinclined to engage in any sort of healthful activity.

I assume I’ll feel better in a couple weeks, as these episodes tend to be cyclic, but until then, I’m having a hard time maintaining motivation, much less positive energy levels.

Stupid brain.

Writing Stuff:

I think it might be time to trunk this story. I’ll sit on it for a while, maybe give myself a chance to look it over again, but I suspect its expiration date has passed.

I’m now, for the first time in quite a while, under thirty works in circulation. This doesn’t trouble me. I know of writers who maintain a juggling act of 100+ works out to various markets, and I have no wish to compete with those numbers. The way I figure it, the fewer works I have out, the more I’ve sold, as long I’m still writing new ones. Plus, I’ve got several stories waiting on the sidelines for manuscripts to clear from the Cricket queue. But it did surprise me when I checked my figures. Guess that’s what happens when I make five sales in under a month. Hardly going to furrow my brow over that.

But I am struggling to sustain momentum on the new story I’m working on. 500 new words, and they were uniformly melancholy and did little to further the plot. Not impressive. I don’t think I’m at my writing best right now.