cosmic_celery

In an effort to both keep track of my writing and to inspire myself to write more this year, I'm keeping a list of writing that I've finished. If I post the story, I'll leave the link here.

1. None yet! D:

fandom_stocking!

eponymous_rose wrote me an awesome Jonas fic (SG1) about his first trip off of the base. (Part one) (Part two)
van_donovan drew me some absolutely adorable Avon/Vila. (And we added each other as friends after, so hooray for new friends!)
saruwatari wrote me a charming Rosencrantz and Guildenstern fic.
shannonsequitur made me a couple funny icons (with Six/Rani and one of Rimmer).
eve11 wrote me a really lovely Doctor/TARDIS fic set during the Time War, So To Stone. It's angsty and really very good.
and weaslette left me same awesome Data icons. Including one with Data and Spot! <3

I was a bit fail this year and mostly just left well wishes, but I did manage to write two little things. One was a little Doctor/Romana fic and the other was the Doctor and Fitz watching some James Bond.

Thanks to everyone!

First, a question: Do you think that a story can be successfully written from the POV of a character's stream of consciousness? I was playing with the idea, but I'm not entirely sure if it works. I don't mean just first-person, I mean actual head-speak if you will. Maybe this would work better with an example? ( Here's a bit of what I've started writing for my fic in which the Sixth Doctor thinks he has a secret admirer: )

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And speaking of Six, I've just started RPing him over at brb_gallifrey. It's a fun community, and neat to have a character interacting with real people as well as other characters. Everyone should stop by, especially since I'm running the Six weeks in the Classic Who watch-a-thon! No treats to anyone who guesses which episode I'm picking first - it's too easy.

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And a meme:

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me!"
2. I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will post the answers to the questions (and the questions themselves) on your blog or journal.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. And thus the endless cycle of the meme goes on and on and on and on...

( My interview... )

It was an early morning and the sun was not shining bright. It was that early. So early that some less particular people might call it night. So incredibly early you might think dipping that stale doughnut into that orange juice substitute that had been sitting in the back of the fridge for a year might actually have been a good idea. And you'd be RIGHT, because it is surprisingly delicious. But never mind the orange and frosting scrumptiousness, it was a night for mischief.

Now, you need a bit of back story. Wait, stay around, it's two sentences tops. I hadn't gotten any sleep in two days and I was going crazy...I tried everything I could to get to sleep: tea, chamomile tea (once I found out regular tea had caffeine in it), milk, hot milk, burning my mouth with hot milk, even lukewarm milk was a no-go...and kind of gross. I was going insane. Wait, I already said that, but that's the back story, not so hard, was it? Even a bit fun? Yeah? Okay, lets continue!

Remember when I said it was a night for mischief? That was pretty suspenseful, huh? Pretty awesome. Well, after eating that sunny-d dipped delight, I started to feel a bit funny. And I also began to suspect that someone had poisoned my doughnut. (Remember that part in the back story about not having slept? That might come into play just a bit here). So...going on zero hours sleep, a funny tummy, and a burnt, milky mouth, I may have been a bit (just a bit) completely insane.

It must have around three that I finally decided to leave. I couldn't just stay around when someone had just poisoned me! And I totes brought the machete to protect myself from evil people on the streets. I mean, you never know what kind of whackos could be out there at night.

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An aside: welcome Russian guybodybuilder2007 and random chick sexy_sherri to my journal! I have no idea why either one of you would want to add me besides upping your friend numbers, but if you're actually interested, just tell me. Until then, I'm going to assume that you're both the same person, since you both added me at roughly the same time. Tell me Sherri, what's it like to be a Russian body builder?

Holey Jamoley, haven't updated in FOREVER.

Um...here's a monologuey thing that I wrote:

On Guard

 'First I hardly even knew he was there...a face in the crowd that was a bit off, that I couldn't quite catch. Those first few weeks, I saw him...many times. He caught me by surprise every time. The ginger hair, the cool way he held himself. He stood out like nobody I ever saw.

How could he be so calm in all this mess?

I made it a game of watchin' him, gave him a million background stories...in one, he was a traveler from another world. He could have been.

Really, sir. He wasn't a local. Couldn't have been. They process too easily; hardly even need the suppression therapy. Ready for domination, the fools. This one...kept showin' up in the new batches, wouldn't submit. How was he avoiding the processing?

Didn't you notice? He's hard not to notice.

If he knew a way to escape, why didn't he leave earlier? How did he get here? He didn't belong. He belonged with me. I...I think I loved him. Funny way to fall in love, I know. But that's how it goes.

Three batches today and I hadn't seen him yet. I'd been watchin' the crowds, looking for that strange patch of orange, but...nothin'.

And then, the knife at my back...the hand over my mouth. I pulled my gun. Procedure, ya know? But, but...it was him. The ginger hair....he was taller than I thought he'd be. And those eyes. My god...grey like storms. I just forgot about my gun. But he didn't. He took it. Shot me.

Won’t tell you where he went. Love him, that's what you do for the people you love, isn't it? Isn't it? Maybe he can find a way out, a better way... 

God, those eyes...  

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Yeah...I don't know either.


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I'm warming to my new layout...and I'm quite fond of Valentine, so it may stick around.

Since I haven't talked about myself in forever:

My one act play went on at the literary festival and was quite successful. I acted in all but two of the plays (mine and one other) and it was just as much fun as I thought it'd be. Still, no matter how much I like acting, I must remind myself not to take playwriting class again...because I don't like writing plays. You'd think it'd be simple....but I do enjoy the class itself. Never again, I swear. I'm going to write more poetry and maybe work on my novel if I can get over how much I don't like it.

A friend in Playwriting class is putting some sort of writing group that I think may be fun. I've always wanted to be in a cool writing group...though, I haven't met any of his intended members yet, so we shall see.

The poem that I submitted for the Master Class with Marge Piercy (somewhat famous feminist poet) was excepted, so...she'll be talking to ten of us about sound in poetry...and talking about our poems...or something. I'm not quite sure. I'm actually a bit nervous about it, since the poem I submitted doesn't have any stand out sound-centric lines. But it is about deer. She has lots of poems about deer.

A letter to my childhood backyard on the occasion of earth day, 2008

do you remember that morning?

i padded outside, to visit you.
the air was sharp; the day
not yet day, not yet
light enough to burn away
the dew from the grass.

and all around me was you.
no god, just you.
no god but the dew on my feet,
the subtle retreat of the fog
as it ambled back
among the pine trees that were
also you.

for a moment
i thought i might become something wild,

atoms
separated, lost
to your overwhelming atmosphere.

for a moment
i thought, maybe the hummingbirds
(so many of them were out that morning!)
might take me as their child,
might teach me to
fly backwards.

do you remember it
like i do?

perhaps you only remember
that i got cold

and returned indoors
to track mud on the carpet.

Today we started talking about absurdist drama in playwriting class...which is a genre that I love and influences my writing a lot...which probably explains my craziness a bit. Our exercise in class was to write a concept for an absurdist play...and my group came up with a thing about three people digging holes which was a metaphor for different methods for accepting change. Awesome.

I need to finish my play this weekend!

Book meme:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence. (
4. Post the text of the next 4-7 sentences on your LJ along with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest (unless it's too troublesome to reach and is really heavy. Then go back to step 1).

"Because of John Fuchas and his Poodle film?"
The old man cracked out laughing. "Poodle film?" he spluttered. "Well, it's gunna be a bit more spectacular than just a little doggy movie, Miss Kapoor. It's gunna be years in the making. That John Fuchas is a genius, that boy. "

Doctor Who - Mad Dogs and Englishmen by Paul Magrs

I have an opportunity. This said opportunity involves providing care for the criminally insane.

Atascadero State Hospital is where a great proportion of this countries mentally ill ax-murderers etc. etc. end up. Currently, my stepmother Nancy works there as a Psychiatric Technician (Psych Tech). To get there she went into a school run by the hospital for about a year, and now is making a good bit of cash, not to mention the added bonus of awesome stories.

So, I'm thinking of doing the same thing. And really, it's not the working with the criminally insane that scares me, it's learning nursing techniques. (Nancy assures me that I would never have to place an IV or a catheter, thank goodness, though I would have to give shots). I'd be going to school there, and perhaps working part time at the hospital for about a year, then I could start full time there or go someplace else.

As for my writing, I can't imagine a place that's more intriguing, but I worry that the continuous schoolwork might zap all of the write-and-submit out of me.

Ah, we'll see. We'll see.

ETA: Yay, banner works now! This lovely one was made by dictums, though I'm not sure how long I'll keep it up. Wonderfalls is neat.