I haven’t written a “writing” blog in ages. Not a real one anyway. With the advent of the New Job, I’m hoping I can get back into some sort of schedule. I mostly write at night, when it’s quiet and I have the house to myself by virtue of the fact that I’m probably the only one awake. I carry around a small notebook for ideas (goodness knows I have a TON of notebooks), and I’ve written a handful of stories, bits and pieces in these books.
I just hate transcribing. I find it impossible to retype what I’ve written, and I do not like it. It’s so difficult for me, I often say “forget it” and move on before, months later, deciding to push through it. However, that may change, as the darling and delight Erin Morgenstern has introduced me to the wonders of Scrivener. It’s basically an organizational software, but offers novel, short story and script-writing formats (PsychoCinematics, wink wink), in addition to holding your research, provided character and scene sketch templates, and the ability to host multiple documents AND compress them for submission. If only it made a decent cup of Chai.
Barring the tea, it’s a wonderful program and I think it’ll be very beneficial to me. Part of my problem was working with massive multi-page word documents that I had difficulty going back through, especially for points of reference or a style thing I may/may not have done. I hope it’ll keep me on the straight and narrow.
I also had a long, lovely chat with my dear friend Cat on writing. I love fellow writing-friends because they know EXACTLY what I’m on about. I harbour this obnoxious fear that people just won’t get me. She offered me a story about Neil Gaiman: apparently he just went with writing stories he’d like to read. Worked well enough for him, I guess. So I’m writing just for me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t share. I mentioned the sequel to “Deadbeat” last entry or so, and I’m prepared to give you the first chapter. If you haven’t read “Deadbeat,” you can find it on Figment.com.
I’ve also added a little Categories box over there on the sidebar. I’m hoping I can kinda separate the fire spinning from the writing from the working and make it a bit easier to find things. Let me know how you like it, if it works, or if there’s something else I should add. In general, if there’s something you want to know about, leave me a comment!
Tomorrow, I’m off to Julie’s house for hours of sewing together the Death Dress (The Patchwork Nightmare may be a better name), Sherlock, and the all important French Toast. Also, belly dancing. Hopefully I will have photos.
All right, at this point, if you haven’t read “Deadbeat” and don’t want it spoiled, do not read on.
Ellie Crane, former desk bitch gone ghoul, bolted upright in her bed and stretched, yawning. Her neck cracked, she flopped back onto the pillows. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Ellie contemplated whether or not she should get up, and if she bothered, what she would eat for breakfast.
Stomach growling, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, flicking the blankets back carelessly. Ellie glanced back at the bed, where Vincent still slept, still as the grave and showing no sign of getting up. He could sleep through the apocalypse without trying.
The pantry proved useless, offering up a half empty box of stale cereal and a few granola bars. The fridge held even less promise. The freezer was Ellie’s last hope, lest she be sent forth to spend what little they had on a decent meal. Since dying, Ellie hadn’t returned to her position as Desk Bitch of the Dead. In fact, the pair had moved to another town to avoid the complications presented by Ellie’s rise from the grave.
As a result, they were barely scraping by. Even afterlife sucked.
The freezer, thankfully, didn’t disappoint: frozen oatmeal pancakes and the bagged leftovers of a severed arm.
She could work with that.