My migraine is back.
Such a dubious honour to see you again. Now leave.
Why is it that when I have a headache I crave chocolate and soda? I know it’s just going to make it worse.
I’ll be in a dark room waiting for story ideas. Bye.
Category Archives: Diary
Progress
Wow. I just spent my afternoon formatting, coding, and finally uploading half of the articles I’d thought of putting on the Owldaughter – Read page.
I completely forgot about the chicken in the oven, though. I think it might be overdone.
But damn it, I’ve updated the colour style of the pages, and created a link for half the pieces I wanted to list. Go me!
Hmm
I’ve been coding my articles to put up in the Read section of my new website, and you know, I don’t have a single piece of fiction that I feel comfortable posting publicly. This is not a good sign. I’ve been thinking about posting an excerpt from the half-finished Great Canadian Novel (officially 7/12 complete!), from my NaNo novel And By Many Other Names, and maybe that nameless fantasy thing I found on my laptop; but I haven’t written short fiction in years. Oh, sure, there’s that short story I wrote last week, but I realised a couple of days ago that there’s exactly one person on the face of this earth who would understand it completely. I can’t even let my husband read it, because it could ruin a role-playing game we go back to every once in a while.
So that’s frustrating. On the other hand, this morning I received an e-mail from someone whose opinion I value and who rarely compliments anyone. The message was a complete surprise and praised dedication, strength, and independence. A portion of that praise also came from a couple of other people who I’d pretty much do anything for, and it’s rather heady. That e-mail made my day; I feel as if I’m walking a few inches off the floor. (And to borrow a phrase from Skippy, “those who know will know”!)
You know, I did have a flash of a story idea as I was falling asleep last night. Maybe I’ll try doing something with that today.
Be Nice
Grumble grumble grumble.
I’m working on being social again, I truly am.
For example, I might venture out of my home to the bank today. I hear there’s this thing called Sun outside.
Woe betide anyone who actually tries to talk to me on the way, though.
The crazy thing is I’m in a good mood – so long as I’m by myself. Introduce another human being into the mix and I’m snarly again. Thank whatever deity you currently subscribe to that I have an on-line journal, so at least you all know I’m alive, because e-mail and phone calls are right out. I appear to have no patience with the human race, and it’s nothing personal, honest.
If you are an alien disguised as a human, accept my apologies for judging you by your cover, so to speak, and no, I still won’t be able to play nicely.
Grumble grumble grumble.
Spontaneous
When my husband got home last night he was restless, so when he suggested going over to the Angrignon mall I was all for it. When we got there, we walked past the Famous Players marquee and lo and behold, Matrix Reloaded was playing in five theatres.
“I suppose this wasn’t planned,” I said.
“No!” he said. (And I believe him, because he’s not very good at spontaneously checking out movie listings just for kicks.) “But look, there’s one starting in half an hour. And since we’re here…”
So we saw Matrix Reloaded again last night. All but the first ten minutes, that is, because the theatre where we were supposed to see it was all dark, and they’d relocated the viewing to another theatre without putting up a sign or a note or anything. What is customer service coming to these days?
Happy Friday to those whose work week ends today!
Story
I woke up at 4 AM this morning again, and as I lay awake, I worked out a story. I fell asleep again around 5.30, and when I woke up at 9, I turned on my laptop and wrote it.
Gone were the beautiful turns of phrase I had developed in bed, and the pacing is definitely different, but I have an entire six-page story done, finished. (For those who have been conditioned to think in numbers as of last November, that’s a respectable 1,866 words.)
I need to do this more often. I used to imagine entire scenes in bed as I tried to fall asleep all the time. (My other productive time was in class at school, where I was trying to not fall asleep. Go figure.) Perhaps when my headaches lay me low I ought to go lie down in a dark room and let inspiration hit. It would certainly be productive, and it wouldn’t hurt my eyes so much as trying to read does.
On Dreams Etc
My parents are back from their trip to Italy, and when my mother called last night she sounded like she’d been roaming the pages of Janson’s History of Art, pages 278 to 473 inclusive (in the third edition; YMMV depending on the edition you consult, of course). I’m extremely happy for them; it sounds like they enjoyed themselves immensely, but I am just a teensy bit jealous. It comes from being so well educated, I think. If I’d never learned anything about art or history or Western Culture, then I’d have no reason to be envious, would I?
I’ll be interested to see the success rate of this dreaming true thing I’ve been experiencing on and off. Some events I’d like to see happen, such as the wedding of two friends at a particular time of year, or last night’s dream of a film starring Tom Cruise and Carrie-Anne Moss. Then there are others which I’d rather not see happen, like being told by a book rep during the winter that Terry Pratchett has just died. I think I’d like to be completely wrong on that last one, thanks.
Today, I sit down with my first NaNo novel and edit, edit, edit. This will be Edit No. 4, and, I think, the final edit before I write query letters and choose sample chapters to submit to an as-of-yet undetermined list of publishers. One of my cats has graciously consented to be in my presence this morning, so maybe today I’m not as cranky as I have been. Or perhaps she’s just acting out of pity, and it’s pure charity. Whatever her motivation, today will feature Maggie, laptop, peppermint tea, and lotus incense. And Mozart, whose music appears throughout the novel. (Yeah, I know; a CD tray full of Mozart should drive me crackers by about noon. I’ll strike back with Tori Amos when I can’t stand it any more.)