The strangest, weirdest, most mind-altering part of college is Finals Week. My writing time for an entire week has been consumed by papers about Native American museum exhibits and the structural aspects of postmodern fiction, so my novel and actual projects are languishing in a dank corner of my hard drive like unwanted puppies*. I have a Calculus exam tomorrow, a class that I am hoping to simply pass at this point, which is a position I have never before been in.

Finals never made much sense to me as a concept. School is supposed to be “real world” training wheels, and unless my career experience is grossly wrong, one’s boss doesn’t sit one down at the end of the year with a 25-page list of multiple-choice question. Cornell is actually offering a block system where students take one class every eighteen days and take their exam at the end of each class. I’m not sure if I’d like taking just one class at a time, but that system seems a lot better than this one. I know at least two people who have spent more than twenty-four hours in the library at a time. I don’t know how supporting an over-sugared, over-caffienated student body with free candy and coffee is going to lead to good exam scores. Frankly, my study system consists of writing essays up until the last second and then collapsing into a pile of exhaustion.

Currently, I’ve got this song playing on loop because it is depressing-hopeful and that is how I feel right now:

Here’s to all the college students. Let’s survive this week (or, if you’ve already had your Finals Week, I hate you).

*That was a sad metaphor. My apologies.

So, I’ve got three categories this year (because I’m nothing if not an organizational nutjob): Things I want to do, things I want to learn how to do, and subjects I want to read/learn about.

Things I Want To Do:

• Edit the two short stories I have finished
• Submit both of them (one is currently on submission to the Writers of the Future contest, but I’ll hear back on that in June)
• Finish the first draft of my novel, tentatively titled Life in Tights.

I don’t have as many “doing” goals this year as I have in years previous. I decided to pick just a few things to focus on, instead of trying to split my attention between five or six different projects. I have a couple of other things going right now–short stories I’m writing, ideas that are going through the brain-percolation process–but these three things are the ones that I’m going to spend my summer on. Everything else can happen later.

Things I Want to Learn How to Do:

• Learn to machine sew, and make either a skirt or a dress. I am awesome at hand-sewing but have only used a machine once or twice, and I would like to learn how. Also, I have the hardest damned time finding a skirt or dress in stores, and as I’d like to build up my closet, sewing it seems like a good way to go.
• Learn to embroider. This is for a small plushie project I’ve been wanting to do, and its something I’ve just never tried before. Might be fun.

Again, fewer goals than the last couple of years. I also decided to focus on one skill I wanted to improve (sewing) and gave up on a couple of things that, while they’re still things I someday want to do, just don’t seem like I have the time to do: quilting and learning a foreign language.

Things I Want to Learn About:

• African history, specifically Algeria and Morocco 1860-1920. This is for a possible writing project that I’ve been tossing around lately. I love steampunk and biopunk, but am getting rather bored of seeing everything set in London. It’d be fun to do a couple of short stories set in a steampunk colonial Africa, but that definitely requires tons of research on my part.
• African mythology (same region, same reasons).
• The Pinkertons. For non-American peeps, the Pinkertons were basically private police hired to break up strikes and police the railroads in the 19th and 20th centuries. They’ve got a very long and interesting history, and are a dark chapter of US labor. There’s no particular application for this knowledge yet, I just find them an interesting thing to learn about.
• Bartending. I don’t actually like to drink (the crappy wine at First Communion ruined me, I think) but I find the job of a bartender fascinating for some reason. There’s already way too many bartenders in literature, but my next large project might just need a snappy sidekick.

I find that as I get older my tastes in writing (meaning my own) are going more and more towards places and people I don’t know much about. Maybe this is just the growing out of YA phase (which wouldn’t be very good, considering that my current WIP is YA) or maybe its simply me expanding beyond the readily available subjects. I was never taught about Asian or African history in public school, and today those are two of the things that I would love to know more about.

Firstly, my Enter key stopped working. Given that a writer uses the Enter key about, oh, a gajillion-billion times a day, I had heart palpitations. My beautiful Macbook, which takes so much pounding from my caffeine-fueled fingers! Don’t fail me!

You see, this Macbook is only a year old. And while I do have AppleCare on it (computers do not like me, and I’m not going to pretend to be skilled enough to try and fix things) I would have to wait two weeks to get it to an Apple Store. And really, you do not know hell until you try to write a 15-page paper on the politics of Native American archaeology without a working Enter key.

So I stuck a butter knife into my beautiful, wonderful, very very very expensive laptop and pried off the key, which made a horribly tortured popping noise but actually came off. And proceeded to have to dig out three or four chips of paint from my horrible dorm room which had all decided to hide under my Enter key for some reason.

Just as I started feeling sweet relief, I reread the last chapter of my novel,  and I realized something horrible.

All of my main characters names rhyme.

In order of importance:

1. Leslie
2. Valerie
3. Charlie
4. Dani

Part of the problem is that all of these names, when read, look quite different. Dani especially made my eye skip right over, since that name has a different ending. But I can’t have the four biggest people in my book all have names with the same sound.That’s crazy. Could you imagine doing a reading like that? It’d sound like Dr. Seuss. Sure, the odds of me ever giving a public reading from this novel are slim-to-none, but it’s a valid concern, dammit.

Seriously, do you know how hard it is to name characters? And then to get those names ingrained in your head over 250+ pages? And then have to think up new ones? I’m not going to be able to give brainpower to anything actually productive for weeks.

He just sits on my desk and stares at me. It makes me quite productive.

As WordPress so kindly informed me, this week is the two-year anniversary of the blog. April 27th, to be exact. I suppose that means its time to go back, read my earliest posts, and then start embarrassment-deleting the most poorly written and overly-exclamation-pointed ones, but we’ll skip that for now. I’ve had several blogs before this, some personal, some comics- or writing-related, but none of them lasted more than a couple of months. I don’t know why this one stuck (well, I have my guesses) but I’m not going to question it.

Not that I’ve exactly been a consistent blogging presence.

More importantly (or perhaps less, depending on my frustration level) my current WIP has also turned a year old. Currently, it is about 260 pages long and 77,000 words. I’m estimating I’ve got about another 50 pages to go. I tend to write with a lot of fluff and cut later; I think it makes it easier. This book will definitely need it, because 90-100,000 words is simply too long for a comedic YA sci-fi novel. I have an idea of how the editing for this book is going to go, actually, and I don’t think it will be too painful. My plan is to read the novel (duh) then make an outline for how it should ideally look, and rearrange/cut to fit. Then, line edits.

My goal is to eventually be able to get at least a first draft done in a year, but seeing as how my last novel took over 3 years, many drafts, and a VERY crappy flashback scheme, I think 18 months (my estimate) will definitely be an improvement. When I’m home this summer, I’m hoping to do some serious work on this and also editing work on the short stories I’ve got written. That’s never how it happens, of course, but a gal can hope. Editing is definitely my weak point. i don’t mind doing it, actually–I actively enjoy critiques–but its so hard to pick up a piece again after your brain has said, “Yep, that’s the end!”

Anyway, here’s to more years (though not on the novel. That shit’s getting done).

Here’s what I’d like to say to these people: god forbid you are writing for the reviews.

I hear this mostly from new writers, so I will try not to be a total fucking bitch (oopsies). Writing with the expectation of instant feedback, instant success, or really much guidance at all from sources other than those you go and search out yourself, is a hopeless endeavor. One writes because one wants to tell a story, must tell a story, and doesn’t have any way to get rid of that creative urge except by telling a story. If you stop writing 5,000 words in because no one on an internet forum is chiming in, then why are you writing in the first place? Are the reviews the goal? Or is it the story itself?

Getting no reviews, or even no reviews of substance, sucks. I get it. So does being a “real” writer and submitting into the ether only to receive one-line rejection emails in return. If you give up until someone give you a pat on the back, you’ll never get anywhere.

Write to write. Not for praise, or reviews, or success. Otherwise, you might as well be doing something else.

The other thing is, of course, the slight uncomfortableness of still not having changed my username on this blog to my “actual” pen name, the one I plan to use for writing (because I’ve been blogging here for two years now, and at this point it is my “social media presence” dammit). Using a silly name from my first novel (aged 10) sounded like a good idea way back when, not so much so when there are actual people calling you buy it. I shall get around to changing it. Soon!

But seeing as how I’ve decided to try and push myself to do things I usually wouldn’t, let’s give this a shot.

Firstly, three things I’ve learned since I’ve grown up:

(Grown up? I count as a grown up now? Christ).

1. “Take a deep breath” sounds like the stupidest advice ever, but really isn’t. You just have to actually give it a go. A few long yoga breaths and usually I’m not fuming anymore. Still irritated probably, but not fuming.

2. 80% of success is just showing up/Just do it. Woody Allen and Nike are both saying basically the same thing here: You’re never going to accomplish anything unless you move your ass and try. I never got that until late in high school, and I’m still trying to work towards it. It’s easy to do what is simple and comfortable, but infinitely more worthwhile do the things that are hard and intimidating. For me, that means meeting new people, going places I haven’t been before, and taking risks.

3. It’s okay to fudge the numbers. It says over there that I’ve been writing daily for going on two years. This isn’t true. There was a space between Year One and Year Two where I was horridly undisciplined, and when I travel I don’t write daily but do a cumulative total. These things may not be to the letter of the law, but if I didn’t make allowances for being human I would have given up on the first week. Do your best. Try hard. But ultimately what matters is the big picture.

Secondly, two unsung/under-appreciated heroes:

1. David Pace Wigransky, who was actually the subject of some of my first blog posts (way back in April 2011). As a 14-year-old boy, David wrote a letter to the Saturday Review of Literature on the subject of comic books. This may not sound like very much, but back when he wrote it comics were being targeted as the source of everything from serial killers to juvenile delinquency, mostly by a “Dr.” Wertham, and towns all across America were burning them lest they corrupt their children (this would, eventually, lead to the silliness and inanity of 50′s comics, when creativity was killed and thousands of creators were laid off). David’s letter became a rallying point for the anti-censorship side, and he quite eloquently points out the logical flaws in Wertham’s arguments against comics (for one: if millions of kids read comics, it’s likely that many delinquent kids will read them too, but unlikely that comics are the source of the delinquency). For doing that at such a young age, David is one of my heroes.

2. Elisha Otis, who gets rather little credit for perfecting a major part of our daily lives. Back when Otis was alive (the 1850′s) elevators were a horribly dangerous system, useful only for moving freight, because if the rope snapped it would plummet to the ground and smush everyone onboard. Otis invented the safety elevator, which let the public feel comfortable using elevators and also made it possible to put them in skyscrapers.

Finally, the people I would like to nominate for this:

1. There always is one more story to be told…(Ricarda Tesch). I love Ricarda’s blog for her adoration of books, her craziness/refusal to take life too seriously, and our shared affection for fanfic.

2. Whoosh (Morgan M. Jordahl). This is a blog I only found recently, but one that is definitely awesome. Between Morgan’s hilarious deconstruction of rom-coms (notably Easy A) and her own personal stories, it is totally worth a read.

3. The Write Frame of Mind (John Hargis) John’s honesty about his efforts at publishing and the way he opens up his works in his posts are what I like about this blog. Plus, the steampunk/antiques angle never hurts.

And second-finally (additionally? fuck. It’s late), what these people have to write/pick, if they so desire:

1. Why they started blogging.

2. Two unknown facts about them.

3. One embarrassing childhood story (power corrupts. My bad).

4. Their own nominees, up to 5.

Maybe I should start a DIY blog to stop putting this stuff up on this one.

Seeing as how the street outside is so flooded that the buses can’t get through, I think I’ll stick inside today and talk about books that I took off the shelf because of their covers, and why.

The Kingdom Beyond the Waves, by Stephen Hunt

As an amateur typography nut, the font on the cover drew me first. The misaligned letters, the anachronistic look…it totally matched the maritime theme of the cover. The full teal cover with the sparse decoration also made it stand out.

As a steampunk fan, I always like the idea of an old-fashioned submarine. But I’m getting pretty tired of the regular Victoriana mystery-plot that every goddamn steampunk novel seems to have. This book, with the little diver, the sub (versus the over-used dirigible theme), and the tagline “Embark on the adventure of a lifetime…” definitely gave off more of a Boy’s Adventure vibe rather than a steam-powered parasol one.

I’ve already read this one (unlike the other two in this post…I’ve been lazy) and it is brilliant. While there is some steampunk, it certainly isn’t the kind you’re used to. And ohmygod, the worldbuilding is wonderful. I don’t know how Mr. Hunt manages to keep all of the lands and peoples apart, but I am eternally grateful for it.

Empire State by Adam Christopher

Just look at this cover.

It is amazing.

I love the art deco period, and the clean black/white/grey color scheme combined with that aesthetic is a definite win for me. Plus–who wouldn’t want to pick this book up? You have the two men on either side of the Empire State Building–one in a gas mask with a gun, one in a helmet that looks like Rocketman gone 80′s rogue–looking down in silence. Are they protecters? Conquerors? I don’t know, but it’s got my attention.

Then, down below, there’s the lone man walking between the figures. It isn’t a stretch to say that this must be the detective character–between the hate and his stance it’s pretty obvious. And the concentric circles around him look rather like a target.

I haven’t read this alternate-history superhero novel yet, but I’m excited to get to it.

Johannes Cabal: The Necromancer by Jonathan L. Howard

This book attracted me for much the same reasons that The Kingdom Beyond the Waves did.  I like the lithograph style of art, as opposed to digital art (not that digital art can’t be beautiful, but there’s something special about the line art style, especially when it’s coupled with a historical fantasy book. It also follows the simple color scheme formula of the aforementioned novels.

This looks a bit like something out of an old medical text, if old medical texts had a baby with absurdist theater. The grinning skull with the top hat and glasses isn’t an image easily skipped over.

The thick red X reminds me of the plagues of the Old Testament, when the Jewish families in Egypt drew red X’s over their doors in lamb’s blood to have the plague skip their homes. I’m not sure if this is what the cover was trying to invoke, but it is a striking allusion.

This cover doesn’t follow the formula of a regular book cover. The title is under the main image, as opposed to on top or centered, and the author’s name is in the upper left-hand corner. Certainly not a usual cover, but certainly an intriguing one.

These past few weeks haven’t been good for the write-every-day thing. There’s been three days where I didn’t remember I had to write until my head hit the pillow, and so the next day–instead of fessing up–I aimed for 1000 words and then divided the outcome in half. This is not good. It’s lovely, of course, to know that I am capable of writing a thousand words a day, but that’s not the game here. The game is consistency.

There’s been several reasons for the lack of output. My family can to visit, right smack in the middle of the week, which meant that very little of anything got done (not homework, school reading, fun reading, or writing). My roommate, who usually vanishes from Friday til Monday night to god-knows-where decided to stay in twice. This is a bigger issue than it seems, because most weekends I use as a time to stay up way late writing and doing school reading, but on these weekends I had another person who did not want to stay up until 2 am to the sound of frenetic typing.

NO ONE looks this good while sneezing. It simply isn’t possible.

And to top it off, my allergies kicked in to the point of my face feeling like someone put ball bearings in my sinuses and my nose dripping water worse than a faucet. It is not an attractive time for me, nor as you can imagine a very productive one. Between the antihistamine/decongestant/ibprofen cocktail messing with my brain and the fact that it’s hard to type when one is constantly on snot management, allergies make finding the motivation to sit down and write very difficult. Especially these monster allergies that may or may not have mated with the bird flu somewhere along the line and make me ears pop when I swallow like I’m on a plane or something. (Seriously–isn’t evolution supposed to not select for the snotball trait?).

Logically, I know it only takes me 20 minutes of no-pauses writing to do those 500 words. It’s sitting down to do that when I’ve got six other things on my mind that’s the hard part. I’ve got a Calculus test to study for, and interview that isn’t going to go well if I look like Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, a novel that’s supposed to be nearly read by now (hint: it’s not), a body that hasn’t done any exercise more vigorous than yoga or fastwalking for a month, and a presentation abstract that has yet to be thought through, let alone written. I’m pretty sure everyone else has a list at least this long too, and I’m also fairly certain that the mental to-do list is a big reason why so many people want to be writers but so few people actually write. Making writing a priority seems a little silly when there are so many things that The Real World needs you to accomplish as well, and when there’s an equal number of obstacles stopping you from accomplishing anything at all.

These past few days my goal has been to find ways to rewrite how I see my distractions as well as how I prioritize writing. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far:

• Having guests over (or having your roommate actually be in the room) is a chance to knuckle down on the whole “time management” thing. If I know roomie likes to go to bed by 11 pm, then I have to either get my writing done by then or tramp on down to the lounge. As moving all of my stuff is a pain in the arse, I prefer writing before bedtime. 
• Being sick may mean that getting out 500 words in 20 minutes isn’t feasible, but that’s okay. It means that I have to come up with some reasonable alternatives, like sitting in bed instead of at my desk, in comfy pajama pants, and writing 100 words between each episode of a stupid sitcom.
• Yoga may not be intense exercise, and it may not make me feel quite as kickass as pumping the elliptical until my eyeballs hurt, but it is still helping my brain, and it does make me feel good to do. A quick note: If you’re interested in yoga, I highly recommend the book Slim Calm Sexy
  

  This is a thing my body does now. Holy macaroni.

  Yoga. Please ignore the title, it is horrible. The book has a lot of clear routines, which I like, all of which focus on different areas of the body or health (flexibility, relaxation, back pain, jet lag, etc). I quite enjoy the Relaxation and Flexibility routines, which always leave me feeling pleasantly stretched without being worn-out. I haven’t had the chance to put the Orgasm routine to the test yet, though (if there was ever an appropriate use of LOL, this is it). I’d take the myriad supposed health benefits with a wee pinch of salt, but it has great pictures and steps for a beginner without a lot of the mumbo-jumbo spiritual trappings.

• The Real World may not find my writing important (yet!) but I do, and I also realize that my brain needs a creative break from other tasks. The fact is, a woman cannot subsist on Calculus alone. I would like a writing career–so what’s more important for my life overall? Practicing the thing that I want to do for the next sixty-odd years, or getting a little bit higher of a grade in a single math course? When I readjust my priorities this way, I don’t have to justify writing anymore or feel like I’m fitting it in at the expense of something else.

So happy Spring and everybody try to write at least once this week without going mad!

But now they’ve cancelled Alphas, and on a fucking cliffhanger, no less.

It’s so damn hard to find smart TV now. There’s little sci-fi on cable as it is, seeing as how it costs so much to produce, and I can’t afford HBO or Showtime. Alphas was the rare serious show on Syfy, with some decent handwavium science and actual non-ridiculous superheroes. It was refreshing, really, because it wasn’t a female-centric comedy or a dystopia. And it ended with half of the characters lying unconscious in Grand Central Station OMFG.

My main problem is this: I know how TV works. They do not make an entire season at once. Likewise, they don’t make cancellation decisions at the drop of the hat. They decide what to cancel before the season ends, because you have to have time to get something to fill that slot next season.

There is absolutely no reason why a show should end on a cliffhanger like that. None. I especially dislike the fact that Syfy doesn’t seem inclined to even tell people it’ll be the last episode (remember the days when The Series Finale was such a big deal? Sometimes I don’t even know when a season ends these days). Give your audience a modicum of respect. I watched a combined 26 hours of this show, at least do me right by ending the series with a real conclusion or, barring that, inform the audience that the show is ending. This happened with Stargate: Universe and I tried not to mind because I wasn’t as into that show as Alphas. But this seems to be a pattern now, and I don’t want to spend time on anything else that’s going to last a plotline and a half and then get cut off at the knees.

RIP Alphas. Especially Gary. Gary was awesome.