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"Shooter's family 'groping for answers'"
Dec. 13th, 2007 03:17 amIs that like walking for AIDS (or waiting for Godot)? This headline is not meant to be funny, but some have hilarious thrust upon them.
Also, remember John Major, who was PM for Britain after Thatcher went to hell/the House of Lords? His last name isn't really Major. His father was a circus performer who called himself Major Cannonball, and had himself shot out of cannons in manner of same. So John adopted the less intriguing 'Major' as his own last name. WTF, conservative PM born of circus performer? Is this something all Brits know but never tell us because they're trying to keep the best political joke ever to themselves?! If I EVER voted conservative, it would be for John Cannonball. It's too pimp for life.
I discovered I have Eiffel 65 on my iTunes today. And was embarrassed all over again.
In a sort of absent minded way, this week I wrote 25 pages/3 chapters and a prequel for a fanfic, and 4 more pages of what will be coming later in the story. This complete with a kind of neurotic revising that still didn't completely satisfy me-- I gave up on correcting tense issues and the paragraph flow is sometimes questionable.
It's odd how differently you write fic from workshop stuffs. I can have a lot more fun writing fic, b/c I'm under less internalized pressure to have all my incidentally mentioned facts check out and I have less anal standards for my level of prose purplitude, which is naturally reeeeeeally high and needs fought off with the pointy stick of complete intolerance. In the fic I used the phrase 'atom-thin' to describe a bit of sea glass (wiki for info on the awesome reasons sea glass is sharp, or just think about how it's made), and stewed over the technical correctness of it before I decided that the fic didn't need to be super-accurate about that because who the fuck cares. This soothed my worries over the neurology of mind-sex. Because really.
Also it was supposed to be pr0n, and what is it doing with angst, a bit about sea glass, and a frigging plot that came from behind and insinuated itself? I was showering, thinking about how Das Jewfro needs a deep condition with that placenta they sell at Sally's, and a character arc arrived from on-high and said unto me that Chapter 8 would be the turning point. At least I'm finally getting to the point I want to write/characters I find personally more fun. Right now it alternates between chapter of plot/chapter of smut by complete accident. This will break down at chapters 6&7 probably, which I do NOT look forward to writing.
Things I Found Out About Myself Reading My Own Fic:
Apparently I think the word 'little' is super-sexy. I overuse it like woah, notably in some kind of indirectly sexy context. What Would Freud Say?
I privilege description over dialog even when I really shouldn't.
I write SAP. Even my torture scenes are too sappy. I am a frigging maple tree. I am grossing myself out.
I can write, or actually, I can imply torture-- never done that one before. Dunno if I could stomach full on writing it, it's so not-me.
Funny bits are probably less appropriate in the middle of a story with shady consent, torture and genocide than I apparently think they are.
Saibaimen from DBZ and Cybermen from Who are Very. Different. even if they're pronounced by the Brit voice actor for Vegeta exactly the same.
I need to tell you how characters feel in great detail, several times. I am not sure you know! HE'S SAD, DAMMIT!
I have lost my childhood fic-writing need to describe what people look like/are wearing in excruciating detail. Yes! No more outfit!time. Also I no longer just have to tell you all about the room. There's a poster of a kitten that says Hang In There in the boardroom of the Valiant for Bitterest Irony, though. Just so you know.
I have retained my childhood need for reviews, tendency to wangst about having insufficient reviews meaning I am a Bad Writer/Worthless Human, and habit of carefully re-reading reviews for the hidden 'but this bit sucked.' Laaaaaame.
Also, remember John Major, who was PM for Britain after Thatcher went to hell/the House of Lords? His last name isn't really Major. His father was a circus performer who called himself Major Cannonball, and had himself shot out of cannons in manner of same. So John adopted the less intriguing 'Major' as his own last name. WTF, conservative PM born of circus performer? Is this something all Brits know but never tell us because they're trying to keep the best political joke ever to themselves?! If I EVER voted conservative, it would be for John Cannonball. It's too pimp for life.
I discovered I have Eiffel 65 on my iTunes today. And was embarrassed all over again.
In a sort of absent minded way, this week I wrote 25 pages/3 chapters and a prequel for a fanfic, and 4 more pages of what will be coming later in the story. This complete with a kind of neurotic revising that still didn't completely satisfy me-- I gave up on correcting tense issues and the paragraph flow is sometimes questionable.
It's odd how differently you write fic from workshop stuffs. I can have a lot more fun writing fic, b/c I'm under less internalized pressure to have all my incidentally mentioned facts check out and I have less anal standards for my level of prose purplitude, which is naturally reeeeeeally high and needs fought off with the pointy stick of complete intolerance. In the fic I used the phrase 'atom-thin' to describe a bit of sea glass (wiki for info on the awesome reasons sea glass is sharp, or just think about how it's made), and stewed over the technical correctness of it before I decided that the fic didn't need to be super-accurate about that because who the fuck cares. This soothed my worries over the neurology of mind-sex. Because really.
Also it was supposed to be pr0n, and what is it doing with angst, a bit about sea glass, and a frigging plot that came from behind and insinuated itself? I was showering, thinking about how Das Jewfro needs a deep condition with that placenta they sell at Sally's, and a character arc arrived from on-high and said unto me that Chapter 8 would be the turning point. At least I'm finally getting to the point I want to write/characters I find personally more fun. Right now it alternates between chapter of plot/chapter of smut by complete accident. This will break down at chapters 6&7 probably, which I do NOT look forward to writing.
Things I Found Out About Myself Reading My Own Fic:
Apparently I think the word 'little' is super-sexy. I overuse it like woah, notably in some kind of indirectly sexy context. What Would Freud Say?
I privilege description over dialog even when I really shouldn't.
I write SAP. Even my torture scenes are too sappy. I am a frigging maple tree. I am grossing myself out.
I can write, or actually, I can imply torture-- never done that one before. Dunno if I could stomach full on writing it, it's so not-me.
Funny bits are probably less appropriate in the middle of a story with shady consent, torture and genocide than I apparently think they are.
Saibaimen from DBZ and Cybermen from Who are Very. Different. even if they're pronounced by the Brit voice actor for Vegeta exactly the same.
I need to tell you how characters feel in great detail, several times. I am not sure you know! HE'S SAD, DAMMIT!
I have lost my childhood fic-writing need to describe what people look like/are wearing in excruciating detail. Yes! No more outfit!time. Also I no longer just have to tell you all about the room. There's a poster of a kitten that says Hang In There in the boardroom of the Valiant for Bitterest Irony, though. Just so you know.
I have retained my childhood need for reviews, tendency to wangst about having insufficient reviews meaning I am a Bad Writer/Worthless Human, and habit of carefully re-reading reviews for the hidden 'but this bit sucked.' Laaaaaame.
