Month: June 2015

menny wurdz

1072 to be exact. The writing was pretty well evenly split between early in the morning and last thing before bed.  Discovering my own process is interesting.  I try to write the really emotional bits first thing in the morning, and the goofier stuff at night. No cpap.  Very hot and allergic right now in Vancouver.  The allergy index says moderate, but I’m streaming from my nose and eyes pretty much constantly, so HELLO SEXY GRASS GET OUT OF MY FACE NOW PUHLEASE.

Gif for mOm. Nina Paley continues to be one of my fave modern artistes.

Okay, enuf stuff time to write.

 

Back on the cpap

1.7 hours last night, and 200 words so far this morning.  Off to Sapperton days later this am. Hopefully I won’t expire of sunstroke or boredom.

…later

596 total for the day.

 

Sue and I nearly fried, but I looked at her after we’d been there for 2 hours and said I bet you want me to bring your car around and she said o would you please when the time comes and I fetched it and there was much rejoicing since we didn’t get a serious conversation in three hours.  I’m reconsidering going to pride New west… It’ll be another frying day almost for sure.  I bought beer on the way back to the car, I had a thirst that could throw a frikkin’ shadow by the time I got home.

Church was the blessing of the animals, and of course the only animals there were dogs.  I lit a candle for a men’s group and a UU movie group.  The youth did a beautiful meditation and all in all it was very pleasant.

 

Updates and more death

Pentium, Tammy’s remaining kitty, was euthanized yesterday.  I am so glad Mike was in Toronto.  I’ve supported him through a pet death so this seems like karma sneaking in.

Got to talk to Paul and Phyllis on the phone yesterday. They and Katie and Alex were taking the sights in Port Stanley, always a family favourite with the folks.  Phyllis (to be candid) sounded exhausted so I hope he’s not chivying her too hard.  Phyllis seems smitten with Alex, although how things could go differently is hard to figure.

Keith came by yesterday.  Being on the spectrum – both of us – makes our communication extremely intense, haphazard and painful at times, but this turned out well so I’m going to characterize it as a win.  He’s enjoying the mix of work that he has right now, including supplying eyeglasses through his company to X-Files.

Buster’s back/butt wound should get veterinary attention in my view, but I don’t own him.  All I know is that had Margot received such a wound I’d have her into the exam room in 12 hours; portions of the wound are now 72 hours old and not crusting over so I am quite concerned about an abscess.  Fortunately Margot is only subject to persistent eye goobers, thanks to her allergies, and I’m trying to stay on top of those by removing them every time her eyes get droopy.  She does not thank me, but she usually quits running and lets me pick her up when I’m persistent.

It’s been deliciously sunny and breezy and not too hot.

412 words yesterday, mostly on Pharos.

Mike is planning on renting an entire commercial sauna for his birthday.  Man o Man, that’s gonna be some party.

 

There’s this woman in Spokane who is white and has been pretending to be black since she was in University.  This is what I have to say about her:

Libertarians are calling Rachel D. the ultimate manifestation of white guilt. I’m calling her as a gender-flopped urban Grey Owl.  Her romanticization of black culture without living through a black childhood isn’t guilt, it’s a minor mental disorder.

Further:  SHE EMBODIES WHAT MY TAG RACEFAIL IS FOR.

 

No words

I messed about with editing.

I suspect I’m feeling jelly of all my travelling friends and rellies.

I’m going to buy a bead curtain on line if I don’t cobble together something from around hear out of scraps. I have an idea that would be fabulous and would take about two hours or less to make, but it’s one of those things that would turn into a HALF DONE PROJECT and go back in a drawer if I didn’t power through it all at once.

(note from 2020, I did make it, and it keeps flies out and Jeff quite likes it, and I used fabric scraps from DRESSEW.)

Love this comic.

Love this collection of critters.  Next time somebody starts talking God’s law to you regarding the proper constitution of a family, remember the Goose, the Hen and the Ducklings.

I made ONE OFFHAND COMMENT on Reddit, and doubled my comment karma OVERNIGHT. The internet is a wacky place.  Oh, and I had to school a guy who was telling me that I wasn’t being a good feminist.  He didn’t respond, but I got 16 upvotes, so go me.

RIP Christopher Lee and Ron Moody

I know he was knighted, but I no longer acknowledge the right of the so-called Queen of England to bestow honours.  Yes, I know she’s been a benevolent spirit during my life, but only for me.  Seeing what she represents in terms of the people whose land got stolen opened my eyes.

Here’s an obit.

Ron Moody has likewise made his last exit, stage left.

418 words yesterday, mostly infill.

No bead curtain.

MOTIVE HAS THREE SEASONS? Yes.  And we are watching them.  I adore how it twists one aspect of the police procedural so that the tension is evenly balanced throughout the show, and I adore even harder how instead of making three or four episodes a season arc-heavy, it spreads the arc out like breadcrumbs throughout the season. No GARBARCAGE here.

It’s kinda cool to be watching a show starring Canadian actors without constantly thinking how awful they are. (quite the reverse…) Kristen Lehman was born in New West, after all, and Louis Ferreira was born in the Azores and moved to Toronto when he was a tad.  The guest stars are usually pretty good as well, including Molly Parker and Charles Martin Smith, who also directed.  Actors from SG1 pop up with amusing regularity, sometimes causing Jeff and I to pause the show to try and figure it out, before we give up and go to imdb.

 

Coffee and curtains

Today I have a mission – to buy a bead curtain for the back door to keep the flies out when it is clement enough to leave the back door open.

Also, to check and make sure I actually DID get rid of the ant infestation.

I’d like to apologize for saying which instead of with in yesterday’s post.  Sometimes when I’m taking dictation from myself I get it wrong.

Margot has slimmed down to her summer weight, both in terms of body and fur. By the time July rolls around she seems almost drawn, but a very small change in her exercise level makes a huge difference.  Then around October she becomes a hair explosion again, and by the end of February if I’m not brushing her diligently every day she ends up a matted mess.  I hope I don’t die before she does, I don’t know a soul who would keep up the maintenance regimen. I got a little cat malt into her yesterday but she gets bored easily and wandered away before I could get a full dose into her.

1049 words yesterday.  Not a record but respectable, and it’s on a really cute scene.  I think I’m done with the chapter in which Pharos meets his dad, and I think I managed to stick the landing.

So no editing yesterday.  I wonder if by telling myself I should edit today I’ll give myself another 1000 word day… it all started making sense when I realized it doesn’t matter what mood I’m in.

Coffee’s on and hot, time to get some.

For you and you alone

HERE IS NATHAN FILLION HOLDING A BRACE OF OTTERS.

Paul came by yesterday to take me for a walk down by the Quay.  I shared with him some ground chicken meatballs in pasta sauce and we had a beer (Hop Circle IPA by Phillips) apiece because it was so deliciously cool on the deck once the sun went down.

On Wednesday Katie and Paul are planning on going to London to see Phyllis, and I’m really happy about that although poor Katie – Alex is the perfect baby inside his routine but he doesn’t do change well and he’s likely to roar. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it when he gets back.

Mike’s going to fly to Toronto and visit Tammy soon (so happy!!) It’s always good when your friends get along.

Watched Run All Night.  It is a fairly pedestrian thriller, but I’m a Joel Kinnaman fan and he was good in this movie.  There’s a scene where he’s been kidnapped by dirty cops and his da, as played by Liam Neeson, CRASHES INTO THE COP CAR while his kid’s in it, and then levers him out of a busted window, asking, “Are you all right?” and the kid says, which stunned asperity, “No I am *not* all right!” which made Jeff and I laugh.

I think I may take a day off writing and work on edits instead.

And now, coffee.  I put it on a couple of minutes ago and now it should be ready.

Have some fungus.

500 words yesterday, 300 already today

KIMA’S BABIES ARE SO CUTE I COULD WRITE ABOUT THEM ALL DAY.  But we don’t have a stick of food in the house that Jeff can eat, so we’re going SCHLEPPING.

BREAKING SPONGE. Hilarious if you know the shows, incomprehensible if you don’t.

GODDAMN STANNIS BARATHEON (Imaginary character).  This will mean nothing if you don’t watch Game of Thrones.

I need to go read a real book I think.

Grr bleugh

Well it’s a good thing the transpeople I know personally aren’t assholes, because  the idea of having a transwoman tell me I’m oppressing her for occasionally mentioning that I have a Gold Star Darwin Approved Vagina would really really piss me off.  And I wouldn’t be nice about it.

The transpeople I know would roll their eyes and ask us to return to a more useful discussion.

Some woman who is not a professional medical person on the internet put up a 7 minute video on exercises for Pubic Symphisis pain, and in a shocking development, they really help.  Mike took me for Yellowtail Thai food last night down at the Quay  (I just ate the leftovers for breakfast… there is something of decadence in being able to have deep fried oysters for brekkie) last night and I crashed at his place.  He was still sawing logs at 5:30 am like any sane human so I let myself out and walked home.  MAN WHAT A DIFFERENCE.  I can honestly say that’s the longest and fastest walk I’ve had without pain in probably a year. And the sun was lovely, and the fresh breeze, which will probably resemble a damp blanket by midday, was restorative.  So I had a 2K walk in perfect weather as a start to my day.

Still sad about Anita.  She was a good woman.  I’ll post her obit later; she was a public figure in BC so there should be one in the local papers.

Sue comes to get me at 9:45.  I FOUND MY CHURCH NAME TAG more or less in time for the last service of the year.  Go me.

I think I already mentioned I wrote 1024 words yesterday, but here I go again.

New deadline for completion of the manuscript first draft is the end of August.  If I keep up my current rate that will be accomplished.

Visits and departures

A church elder died last evening.  The elder leaves an immense gap in our spiritual life, for the elder was a person with great institutional knowledge, practical wisdom and a steadying presence.

I’ll say who when all the family and everyone else knows.

BUT  Battery is coming today, and he always brings happiness with him, so that is good.

I will try to write today, and work on other projects if I can’t.

How it is

I am now 36K words into the second novel in the trilogy.

No response from an agent yet, but I’m going to get professional help with the query letter.

The novels have a premise, not a plot.  Once I realized that this is not a problem, I turned from a woman who dreamily talks about the novels I’ll write to a woman who writes every day, unless I don’t.  So I had three days where I produced less than 300 words total followed by 1700+ words in two days.  2000 words, five days, 400 words a day, not a great average but not shameful.  The best part is, I now understand the writing process as 1) identifying who I want to write about and what motivates them 2) putting those people into conflict with each other, and then letting them use their skills to fix the problems or live with the results 3) busting up the writing into manageable chunks with definite lengths so that I can feel the progress I’m making 4) having as much fun as possible.

And some days I write 100 to 1000 word blogposts because not every thought and OOO CUTE PIC that flits through my admittedly housefly-like brain can get stuffed into the novels.

I am trying to write like a feminist, media-savvy and unabashedly socialist version of Eric Frank Russell.  Hm.  I said it.  Wonder how much that will cost me in days to come.  “Females” scarcely exist in his novels, and yet there’s something about the realism and humanity of his writing that I enjoy.

When I get stuck, I play my mandolin, watch my way through the Golden Age of Television, go for a walk with my former spouse, or kids, empty the dishwasher, make bread, work on other projects (Recovering Racist, The Book of Kind Words – exactly how it sounds, and my mOm’s been making suggestions about modern situations which need kind words, which is GREAT, Tarot for Atheists, Allegra’s Filkebuche, Broad Hints – a scraping of all my non fiction including quite a bit of humour, Oscar and his Family (a series of children’s stories regarding a non-traditional family), and a book of all my homilies which I will probably call “Not all Unitarians”.)

I’ve identified as a writer all my life, and now that I’m committed to writing every day, except the days I don’t, I feel like my life is better than it’s ever been.  When sad things happen to me in real life, or cruel things, I can immediately turn to those chapters I’m working on which need that.  When I’m happy, I’m more productive.  Best of all are the days when I tell my mood, whether lethal or sadface or brittle or calm or goofy, “Stay put! I’ll deal with YOU later…” because those are the days I write a thousand words and never look up at the counter.  YAY SCRIVENER.