The Grand Declaration (Numero Dos)

No, there’s no particular reason for the Spanish in the title other than the fact that I took four #$@%-ing years of it and have to do something with my too-incomplete-to-actually-converse language skills.

I tried to begin my second year of writing daily on the first of February, but I only wrote nineteen days between then and May 18th. It was such a struggle to get through two days in a row. And then I figured out what was missing: PUBLIC SHAME!

In short story form, Mur Lafferty (author of the forthcoming Shambling Guide to New York City, but more importantly host of my favorite podcast, I Should Be Writing) recently had a show about hitting her 100th day of writing. She attributed her success to a system called The Magic Spreadsheet*, which is essentially a giant public spreadsheet where anyone can sign up and put down their words for the day. There’s a point systemand levels and a leaderboard in addition to just the wordcount, which is waaaay more complex than my lil’ system of writing it in a widget on the righthand sidebar, but the concept is the same.

Anyhoo, this is my official announcement of the beginning of Year Two (as evidenced by the new countdown and daily wordcount thingy over on the right there), so that I feel like I am accountable to someone other than myself. Because let’s face it, if it was just me I’d probably go eat some Pringles instead.

*If you are interested in joining The Magic Spreadsheet, this blogpost has a good overview of how the Spreadsheet works, plus relevant links.

Fanfiction Authors Are Not the Sanest of Folk

Notes from a night of reading fanfic:

-Yes, I get it, person whose summary included “(Character X)-WOMAN” You are writing a genswap fanfic, and this is obviously such a unique idea that you didn’t think that “woman” was quite obvious enough. All-caps was clearly necessary, along with three pointed notes in the summary.

Way too true.

-When is writing “LOL I didn’t want to write the beginning of this fic so it starts in the middle” ever a POSITIVE advertisement for one’s writing? Why would that EVER be information you would reveal in the one sentence you have to try to get people to read your piece? Why wouldn’t you just start in the middle and act like it’s some brilliant postmodernist tool?!

-Holy crap, I just used an interrabang and all-caps. I am going to the special hell, the one reserved for ax murderers and those who abuse the Queen’s English.

-Cardinal Rule #1: Badass male heroes do not cry. Especially not in the first three paragraphs. Especially not in a way that is described using flowery metaphors.

-Is there some sort of Original Character plague right now or is this just my fandom? Why does everyone feel the need to write up a new character (inevitably with some sort of oddly spelt name or two first names or some such shit) when this TV show already has a cast of probably 200 characters (including cameos). I assure you, many of those have been nothing more than a face flashing across the screen in a group shot, or a one-line delivery method. Don’t know anything about Minor Character X? Why don’t you read the goddamn source material?

-When you make Virtuous Character Y a rapist, Strong Character B a weak-willed bundle of nerves, and have Character X leave the series without warning, rhyme, or reason, you should just go write a novel. Or get counseling. But please stop wrecking these characters, and kindly get me a bottle of brain bleach so I can forget this awful definitely-not-K-rated morass you call a fanfic.

-I may be getting too old for fanfiction.

Yeah, Kristy was totally a lesbian, but so was Mary Anne, not Claudia.

-Yes, it is okay to kill off characters in fanfic. When you kill off half of them in the first page, it starts to lose its effect just a bit.

-I’m glad you like my fanfic, but posting a review two days after the last update saying, “Please update now or I will diiiiiie!” is not an effective way to get me to update. As you can clearly see, there has been a new chapter every Monday for the past five Mondays. Ergo, the next chapter will probably be written and updated on–wait for it–Monday. And no, posting the same review tomorrow will not speed the process either. I don’t get paid for this, you know.

-Loathe as I am to admit it, some characters just shouldn’t be slashed.

-Person of Interest fanfiction is actually really good. Huh. Maybe I should stop reading cartoon fandoms and move into shows with actual real people.

-Oh, wait, this one has Finch being a werewolf. And this one has him being a succubus. Yep, I knew this was too good to be true.

-And for the love of god, what is this fascination with characters’ hypothetical children? Is there some sort of contest to see who can come up with the most improbable scenario through which to bring children into a series? Cloning apparently wasn’t enough–now we’re onto magical children who must be Cared For or Will Destroy the World.

-Am I incapable of writing in anything but rhetorical questions now? Or lists?

-Must remember the motto: Live and let live, no matter how weird.

-Now I realize why I write fanfic: No one else is doing the stories I want to read. If only it weren’t so much work.

The Philosophical Spam

Today this spam showed up in the comments folder:

They told me that if I took all of my money and possessions, wrapped my arms around them and jumped in a swimming pool, I would sink to the bottom and die. The only way to save myself would be to let go of those things. Only then would I be free. Money and possessions form golden chains, they said, which prevent the soul from soaring to the next level. The only way to get free is to cut those chains. I determined to cut all of the chains with my old life. The first chain I had already cut when I left my country. Next, I cut my money, my job, my language, and my culture. I lived like my Chinese brothers, and I learned to love them.

Its surprisingly well-written and non-Viagra-or-identity-theft based for spam. And also adept at metaphors. So despite my confusion at a Buddist monk who has given up all earthly possessions to live in China somehow being on WordPress, I think I will take this anon-monk’s advice to heart.

Or maybe not. I like nail polish a wee bit too much, and that shit costs money.

Sunday Sharing #1

Yet another idea I stole from Ari over at A Fuzzy Mango with Wings. Mostly because I don’t have enough to say about any of these things for a whole post yet they’re still all awesome. 

1. I’m kind of in love with spoken word, even though its something I have absolutely zero talent for (*cough* overbearingly shy *cough*). The gorgeous Sarah Kay has made this playlist of poets from the Bowery Poetry Club, a collection of videos of amazing NYC poets.

2. I tend to write a lot of pieces that have either tons of female characters or tons of male characters, which inevitably leads to sentences with two he‘s doing things together and no one can tell who’s who. One of the best discussions of this problem is on the NaNoWriMo erotica writers’ forum (oh, hush) but its applicable to even the most unsexy of fiction. Link here.

3. For the science fiction-ers out there, here’s the crazy and kind of beautiful picture (and story) of an opera singer who grew algae with her voice during her performance. By modulating her voice she can even change the color and taste of the algae. Isn’t that crazy cool?

Look at it!

4. Then there’s this article from Cracked, which is not for the faint of heart or the hypochondriacs. But there’s a story inside one of these unexplainable, brain-altering diseases. One of the buried ideas inside of it is that disease is oftentimes location-specific, and yet we don’t know why. Any new place humanity steps foot on has the potential to turn us to the lemming route and throw ourselves from cliffs. Or burrow deep into our brain, unknown and silent, until we come home and it makes us blind but suddenly able to hear every crick of an old house from a hundred meters away.

5. I just have to ask: Is there anyone on the House Science Committee who actually likes science?

6. Finally, 12 Novels is the project of a woman who is, basically, attempting to do NaNoWriMo every month of the goddamn year. The italics pretty much show the level to which my mind is blown. Part of her mission was to show that life doesn’t have to be perfectly arranged and convenient for you to be a writer, because that will never happen. A very neat read.

Going Postal

I suddenly realized today why the US Post Office is constantly on the brink of financial ruin. And its not because of the mismanagement or the rural post offices that operate for two people. It’s because every single office is either managed or occupied by lunatics. And I have had the pleasure of exploring this system in the past week, I figured I’d write up a little transcript to illustrate the problem.

The first time, I was mailing out a submission and wanted to know how many stamps (as I had a book of them already) I needed to use on it.

ME: Hi, how many stamps do I need for this?

HIM: (takes envelope, weighs it, then turns his back to me and mutters something unintelligible)

ME: I’m sorry?

HIM: (apparently thinking I’m deaf) THE COST IS TWO DOLLARS AND FORTY-THREE CENTS!

ME: So…five stamps?

HIM: (in a normal tone of voice, finally) It would be cheaper to pay the cost.

ME: Yes, I know, but I already bought the stamps. I don’t really care if five stamps technically cost a dime more.

HIM: But it would be cheaper to pay the cost.

ME: Yes. Yes. Could I have my envelope back to put the stamps on please?

HIM: That will be two dollars and forty-three cents.

ME: My god.

At that point, I just snatched the envelope back and slapped on the stamps, because there was a line of fifteen people behind me and I was pretty sure that they thought I was the crazy one, not the gainfully employed postal service worker. As I was leaving, I witnessed the other postal worker (the only other one working at lunch hour on a Thursday) trying to very calmly explain to a white guy with dreadlocks–and not the cool dreadlocks–that he could not reuse an old Priority Mail box and try to pay the same amount of shipping. Why this matters is quite beyond me (if he was still going to pay, why not let him reuse the old box?) but the fact that she had to explain it three times was extraordinary. Meanwhile, he kept repeating to her that he just had to ship out his band’s t-shirts. It was like watching two of those speaking dolls with the pull strings face each other–there’s an awful lot of dialogue but NOTHING IS HAPPENING.

Efficiency, USPS. It’s a concept that was developed after the fall of the mercantile system. You might want to look it up.

Artistic representation of a typical USPS consumer. By Random Acts.

Writerly Non-Problems

A list of excuses that you (meaning me) that you (again, meaning me) should stop using as reasons to not write:

I’ve got time later! Yes, you do, which is why you never go to bed before midnight. Stop that.

I wrote a lot yesterday! Sure you did. But you made a commitment to 400 words a day, and if you keep whining about how you did a whole 600 yesterday and now your poor little brain is all tuckered out, you’re never going to finish your novel. Remember when you didn’t used to have a daily goal? Remember how you barely did more than a hundred words a day, if you wrote at all?

I just saw that someone else is writing a book that sort of sounds like mine! Oh dear. There’s just no way that two people could have the same idea for, say, a YA vampire romance, now is there? No, that has never ever happened. You’re such a special little flower that even your vague plot blurbs scream of uniqueness. And obviously that other unpublished author in the blogosphere who’s writing a comedy YA sci-fi novel will turn out a book exactly like yours. Jesus.

Do you realize how much reading I have to do for class? I haven’t read a book for fun in a week. Yeah, I get it. But let’s face facts, hon–we’ve established that if you stopped watching TV during “writing time” you could knock out your wordcount in 20 minutes. So do it. If you actually stuck to the kitchen timer idea you’d surely have enough time to watch whatever idiot sitcom you’re on this week.

But I’m a Very Important Writer and must wait for inspiration to strike. No you’re not. You’re a chick with one publishing credit, a handful of finished stories, and an almost-finished novel. Let’s not kid ourselves here–you’re not George Martin. And although every writer has a tiny Pretentious Bitch voice inside their head, you sure as hell won’t get anywhere indulging it.

Questions I Am Too Embarrassed to Ask

Does an Xacto knife count as a weapon? I ask because there’s a no-weapons policy in my dorm (obviously. Guns aren’t really conducive to a neighborly environment) but I like to craft so I’ve hidden an Xacto knife in my desk drawer. Is this a weapon? Or is it like when I was in middle school and got all freaked out about the fact that I had a mint, since I thought that counted as “snacking in class.” And we all know what happens to snackers. They get a warning.

I was an awkward child. We’ve established this.

Do they have little wastebaskets in the stalls of men’s restrooms too? I don’t even know why I wonder about this. I assume that men have things that require disposing of too–pocket lint and those scraps of paper everybody collects, for example. It seems a tad sexist to not provide them with tiny trashcans as well.

Sexism

WTF is up with Tumblr? I can remember a time before texting was a thing. Hell, I actually owned a VHS player. (Cue gasps). But I’m not that old–I’m still a child of the internet age. I’ve got the requisite Facebook, blog, a gazillion usernames on a  bazillion sites. When I say “troll” I don’t mean “ogre” and I can define Poe’s Law. But fuck it, I don’t understand Tumblr.

I get the concept of course. I just don’t understand the weird bloggy-nonblogness of it all. I don’t understand the insane trackbacks or why the comments aren’t collapsed or the non-post posts. According to a wonderfully antisocial friend of mine “Tumblr is like crack on crack.” Sounds right up my alley. But I just don’t understand. The only reason I go there anymore is to read a friend’s Sherlock fanfic. And I’d be doing that anyways, because its Sherlock and smutty.

How do songs get on the charts? This has always confused me. There are hundred upon thousands of bands in America (goodness knows every single one of my highschool friends was a “lead singer”). Somehow, a band gets their songs to wherever a radio station stores songs–I picture a giant room full of sheet music–and then someone chooses to play it. But then, because radio station are a hive-mind conglomerate, every other radio station starts playing this song over and over and over.

And then somewhere, somehow, lots of money is made.

Mystery Blog Posts

Today I was trying to think of something to blog about, because at this point blogging is my writing warm up, and so I opened up my Drafts folder because I was sure I would be able to find a topic among the 35 or so drafts I have.

I don’t have a clue what some of this stuff is. Not a damn one.

There’s this one post titled “Angry, Angry Children.” Apparently I hadn’t categorized it yet, or tagged it, so there’s no hints there as to what I was going to write about. I don’t remember this relating to any story from my library job, nor does the title stir any sort of feelings in me. Seriously–what on earth did I mean by this?

Then there’s “Biking No-Handed and Other Writing Metaphors.” This one I’m sure sounded very deep and dare-I-say philosophical to me when I wrote it, but now my meaning is completely gone. I am capable of riding a bike no-handed, its true, but how this relates to writing I’m unsure. I suppose that you have to put faith in your equipment? So….your computer? Or your brain maybe?

Finally, there’s “The Redemptive Moment.” I’m pretty sure that this was supposed to be a highbrow discussion of literary form (seeing as how it’s dated from when I was taking my Writing About Literature class). I think I might have been planning on dissecting A Christmas Carol and old Star Trek episodes. Then again, its possible that I was talking about some fight I had with someone, or maybe some fight someone had with me, and was about to go all analyzing-human-relationships-y.

Yeah, I’m out of ideas.

Words I Have Recently Added to MS Word’s Dictionary (Part 2)

Facepalm’d (I am writing a YA novel. Don’t judge me)

cupholder (this isn’t a word?!)

chatspeak (really?!?!?!)

backflipped (what the hell?)

magickery

spaz

icewash (this was more for poeticism than any self-righteous “This should be a word!” spirit)

stalkerishly

superweapon (This should have become a word as soon as “Iron Curtain” popped out of Churchill’s mouth)

homeworld (I call genre fiction discrimination)

toons (As in Looney Toons. Where you been, Dictionary?)

uni (cause British slang hates American spellcheck)

This list makes it look like I’m writing a novel-length Captain Britain-as-a-teenager fic. I swear this is not true.

Surprisingly, superpowers was in the dictionary. Apparently this is a real word, because the WordPress spellchecker isn’t dinging it either. So I didn’t just add it a long time ago and forgot.

Those elitist dictionaries mock me with their small allowances.

I’m A Tweety Bird

Approximately.

I’m finally about to go and get a Twitter account. Being a child of the computer age, I probably should have a smartphone surgically attached to my retinas by now, but I’ve never been one for convention. Also, I’ve never really gotten the point of Twitter. All of the little links and hashtags and @ symbols are weird. Plus I’m long-winded and 140 characters is death. Death, man.

Oh, wait. It appears I already have a Twitter account. Huh. I wonder what I did that for. I must’ve set it up to follow somebody and then never did. Apparently three porn stars and one “lonely woman looking for good night” found my nonexistent tweets interesting enough to follow me, though.

I was honestly planning on never getting a Twitter account. Then one of my favorite authors (Mur Lafferty) started running lotteries through it, and I saw more awesome authors and just generally funny people with accounts. And (if we’re being entirely honest here) I kept hearing the Writers must be social-media active rule and thinking, “Girl, time to stop wistfully pretending that you live in the 1960′s! We must have a Social Media PRESENCE!” Because apparently my consciousness and my inner monologue are separate beings.

Anyhows, that was my circuitous way of saying that my Twitter feed is in the sidebar, and also to make this not another irritating “I gots Twitter, follow plz!!!” posts. But if you do like my tweets and decide to follow me, thanks (so long as you’re not a porn star or a lonely asian girl looking for rich man company).