Mar. 26th, 2005

la_belle_laide: (Leander)
I am writing, writing, writing. Writing, writing, and writing.

Damnit, this is hard. Someone, someday, had better appreciate this. ;)
la_belle_laide: (Leander)
I am writing, writing, writing. Writing, writing, and writing.

Damnit, this is hard. Someone, someday, had better appreciate this. ;)
la_belle_laide: (Leander)
Okay, this is my break from writing. Last night I wrote for about three hours. During the night I dreamed about writing. In the earliest morning I dreamed about other strange things. I got up, took care of some things, fed some creatures, fed myself, cleaned a few things, then at around 11 sat down to write again. I'm taking a break, damnit. I'm about 3/4 finished with the basics of this book. I'm not thrilled with most of it, but there are parts I do like and can work with. On Friday, while at work, parts of the ending started to come to me. They were unlike what I had originally thought the ending would be. This morning as I was getting out of bed, the real ending came to me, and it was a very big shock to me. I like the ending, it just surprised me, is all. I hope that I can write it well. Or at least rewrite it well. (Which is funny to think of it that way; already hopign I can do better in the rewrites when I haven't even written that part yet.)

So now I'm taking a break; surely I'm entitled. I've been staring at the screen and my forehead is bleeding pretty freely. (I miss Douglas Adams. Damn.)

So I'm sitting here wondering what else to do with myself on this relatively mild Saturday afternoon, and all of a sudden I start to feel as if I need to do something outside. It's this weird kind of pull, something I'm associating with responsibility. I'm like "WTF is this?" and then I realize, all the while, I'm hearing a starling buzz-purr. Repeatedly, stridently, in a tree close to the aviary. See, last year when I heard that, it meant that one of the dummies I had released had come back for a handout. Then I'd have to run outside with some worms and throw them on top of the aviary for him. So somewhere in my brain, there's now a section that's reserved for bird calls. Some mothers lactate when a baby cries. I hear a bird, and my brain tells my body to get up and bring worms to it. This freaks me out a bit.

I had this dream last night that there was a german shepard dog locked in an underground cage, and I couldn't get to him to feed him. I could see him (he wasn't anything like Jimmy, either, but I guess that's where it came from,) but there was so much mud and stuff over the cage that I couldn't find the door. Then suddenly it was very Ocarina Of Time-ish and I had to work my way through this labyrinth, only it was on a pirate ship (that's maybe more from Windwaker, but in the dream, the light and the layout looked like OOT.) The labyrinth was full of sarcophagi (sarcophaguses?) that had things like ReDeads in them, and everytime I got near them, these spirit-things would come flying at me on sticks and I had to cut them down. There were a bunch of people yelling at me, "Don't feed that dog! If you open the door and escapes, he'll kill everyone. He's a liability!" I'm starting to hate that word.

I guess I should take the dogs out for a while and let them run around. I haven't had the nerve to go looking through my yard since autumn; I don't want to see the damage that this winter did to things like the pond and, well, whatever else is back there. Not like it's a mile away or anything, just that there's been like fourteen feet of snow over everything for months and I couldn't find anything. Finally, today, I can see the pond.

Please let it get warm.

ETA
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.


My irises and lillies and, holy crap. even poppies are coming up! Teeny, two inch little shoots. Unbelievable.

I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
with my hair down, so. What shall we do tomorrow?
What shall we ever do?


...

HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME

...

When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.
la_belle_laide: (Leander)
Okay, this is my break from writing. Last night I wrote for about three hours. During the night I dreamed about writing. In the earliest morning I dreamed about other strange things. I got up, took care of some things, fed some creatures, fed myself, cleaned a few things, then at around 11 sat down to write again. I'm taking a break, damnit. I'm about 3/4 finished with the basics of this book. I'm not thrilled with most of it, but there are parts I do like and can work with. On Friday, while at work, parts of the ending started to come to me. They were unlike what I had originally thought the ending would be. This morning as I was getting out of bed, the real ending came to me, and it was a very big shock to me. I like the ending, it just surprised me, is all. I hope that I can write it well. Or at least rewrite it well. (Which is funny to think of it that way; already hopign I can do better in the rewrites when I haven't even written that part yet.)

So now I'm taking a break; surely I'm entitled. I've been staring at the screen and my forehead is bleeding pretty freely. (I miss Douglas Adams. Damn.)

So I'm sitting here wondering what else to do with myself on this relatively mild Saturday afternoon, and all of a sudden I start to feel as if I need to do something outside. It's this weird kind of pull, something I'm associating with responsibility. I'm like "WTF is this?" and then I realize, all the while, I'm hearing a starling buzz-purr. Repeatedly, stridently, in a tree close to the aviary. See, last year when I heard that, it meant that one of the dummies I had released had come back for a handout. Then I'd have to run outside with some worms and throw them on top of the aviary for him. So somewhere in my brain, there's now a section that's reserved for bird calls. Some mothers lactate when a baby cries. I hear a bird, and my brain tells my body to get up and bring worms to it. This freaks me out a bit.

I had this dream last night that there was a german shepard dog locked in an underground cage, and I couldn't get to him to feed him. I could see him (he wasn't anything like Jimmy, either, but I guess that's where it came from,) but there was so much mud and stuff over the cage that I couldn't find the door. Then suddenly it was very Ocarina Of Time-ish and I had to work my way through this labyrinth, only it was on a pirate ship (that's maybe more from Windwaker, but in the dream, the light and the layout looked like OOT.) The labyrinth was full of sarcophagi (sarcophaguses?) that had things like ReDeads in them, and everytime I got near them, these spirit-things would come flying at me on sticks and I had to cut them down. There were a bunch of people yelling at me, "Don't feed that dog! If you open the door and escapes, he'll kill everyone. He's a liability!" I'm starting to hate that word.

I guess I should take the dogs out for a while and let them run around. I haven't had the nerve to go looking through my yard since autumn; I don't want to see the damage that this winter did to things like the pond and, well, whatever else is back there. Not like it's a mile away or anything, just that there's been like fourteen feet of snow over everything for months and I couldn't find anything. Finally, today, I can see the pond.

Please let it get warm.

ETA
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.


My irises and lillies and, holy crap. even poppies are coming up! Teeny, two inch little shoots. Unbelievable.

I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
with my hair down, so. What shall we do tomorrow?
What shall we ever do?


...

HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME

...

When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.

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