shadowtricker: (walk in the rain)
I suspect most of the people who read this journal read Rey's as well, and are therefore somewhat caught up on the household goings-on. Rey has been jobless for some time, Bridgie was struggling with medication changes, and got that sorted out only to lose her job as well. Since I haven't been working myself, we no longer have any steady, reliable source of income. It's an ugly situation, and one echoed loudly across the country, I suppose. I am confident that we will get by, between unemployment and tax returns and the inevitability that jobhunting will pay off, sooner or later.
I should be doing more to help.

March is always an ugly month in my own book, the time of year when I find myself truly wanting a drink again. There's an anniversary to be observed, the knotted tangles of blood relations to be prodded at, and the ever-distressing holiday wherein I am reminded that alcoholism and being Irish go hand in hand in many people's minds. Bridgie's birthday at the beginning of the month was unfortunately lackluster due to all that's been going on, and I feel badly for that.

Amidst the chaos I shall continue to practice escapism through roleplay. I'm enjoying plyaing The Shadow ([ profile] evillurks), although the plot has stalled somewhat, again due to the chaos of our lives. I shall try to revive it.

I was reminded I've been tagged on a meme, some time back last month. I believe I'm meant to tag others, but I shan't. Anyone who wishes to do the meme may, and you're allowed to alter any questions you'd like.
Read more... )
shadowtricker: (walk in the rain)
For any who might have been following, or those who haven't but would be interested, we have at last posted the final chapter of the Courtney Crumrin and The Shadow story, The Demon Hound. It is admittedly a slightly goofy title, but I was going for a pulp novel feel. I wouldn't mind actually writing some fan fiction independantly, but this satisfied an urge to get him involved in some Nexus-related adventures. It was surprisingly nice to play Aloysius again, although the latest release in comics has altered the perspective somewhat. The next issue, Bridgielove tells me, will be another advanture of young Aloysius, but that's not going to be out until some time next year. I am very much content to wait. What I'm anxious for is more pulps, which is ludicrous as I now have five, which makes for ten stories. Finances aren't good enough to consider a frivolity like buying another right now. I shall have to wait until there's more money in the pool.

There's a worrisome development in my wanderings, in the vein of economics. Every day when I take my walk there seems to be another new real estate sign up somewhere in the neighbourhood. The area I cover is fairly large and I have a few different routes, but it's not so large a piece of ground that this isn't disheartening. At the very least these are frequently the larger houses, therefore costlier to keep, but most disturbing of all is the occasional sign that claims this or that house will be sold to the highest bidder on such and such a night at a certain time. I have never, in my lengthy life, seen so many people so desperate to be rid of their homes that would put them up for a one-night auction. This practice is utterly foriegn to me, and deeply distressing. It's very possible it's a move of panic on the part of the homeowners, but I've seen these signs two or three times, in very different areas and for, it seemed, different houses.
We are not doing well, certainly, but we are not in any imminent danger of losing our place to live, our heat, our electricity, nor of starving.

I can think of much, much more to say in regards to the current economy and the country, but I will keep my peace. I wish all friends and family the best, until the world turns around. In the meantime, feel free to read the bit of lovely escapism above, and do leave comments, particularly about the art. We had poor Rey slaving away at a rate of one picture per day to keep up with the posting, yet each picture is wonderfully detailed and clearly took great time and effort.
shadowtricker: (words)
I was born by the river in a little tent
Oh and just like the river I’ve been running ever since
It’s been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will

It’s been too hard living but I’m afraid to die
Cause I don’t know what’s up there beyond the sky
It’s been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will

I go to the movie and I go downtown
Somebody keep telling me don’t hang around
It’s been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will

Then I go to my brother
And I say brother help me please
But he winds up knocking me
Back down on my knees

There been times that I thought I couldn’t last for long
But now I think I’m able to carry on
It’s been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will
shadowtricker: (walk in the rain)
I hope my friends will forgive me for going an entire month without posting. My belated holiday wishes to you all, with a bit of groveling for forgiveness on the side. To make matters worse, what inspired me to post today is the news of a death. On Christmas itself, Edd Cartier passed away, at the age of 94. I do not expect many of you to know who that is, but I encourage you to follow the link to view some of his work. He was an excellent artist, and his interior art was as good as, and in some cases rivaled that on the covers despite being in black and white. His use of light and dark and negative spaces was ideal for images of the Shadow, and I always appreciate coming across his illustrations as I read. his artistic gift to the world is one that should be recognized.
Other links: A sampling of his work, Covers and other sci-fi work, including a bizarre assortment of aliens, and another sizeable sampling.

That said, I am still working my way through my newest Shadow pulps and Shadow comic, and intermittently House of Leaves, enjoying peppermint sticks made of almost pure sugar, listening to the new Seal album, wearing a wonderful new sweater and generally basking in the bounty of Christmas. I've also been back to mucking about with collage and stamps and whatnot the past few days, making sets of bookmarks. It's high time I contributed to the household Etsy store, and there are friends I'd like to make them for as well. I'll try to post pictures next time.
It's a bit of a grey day today, and we've yet to have snow, but I got my walk in before the rain. I'm trying to get back to my daily walks and the usual schedule. On the one hand it seems a shame to go winters without snow, but on the other hand I dislike the cold and so do my knees. I do have a good supply of tea and reading material, however, so I think I could stand a bit of wintery whiteness.

My attention seems to be wandering, but by all means, feel free to let me know how your holidays went, and update me on anything else I might have missed. I believe I owe an RP reply or three, so I'll try to get on those, and expect bookmarks in the next post.
shadowtricker: (Nemo dreams)

In case that hasn't updated just yet, 50,845 words. I could hardly stop at 50,000 when the story wasn't quite completed, could I? That also makes 71 cups of tea. I changed the story title at the last moment, because I was becoming distressed that it didn't accurately fit the story, and the minor correction to simply 'Flight of the Dove' makes it sound like a Western.

My thanks to all who showed support, it wasn't an easy thing to do and I think I'll be glad to not have a wordcount to meet tomorrow. I'm glad to have written it though. I started with two folded scraps of paper on which I wrote down a dream, three or four years ago. I had no knowledge about airplanes, around which the story revolves, and the denouement was a vague and single sentence. What I've written contains a lot of personal feeling, and I have learned more geography and mechanics this month than I normally would in a year.
It is a rough draft, and if I were to critically look it over I'd probably end up with less than 50k of words, but I think overall it shows promise. I have no intention to put it up online unless I decide that I'm really never going to do any more with it, but I am willing to send it by e-mail to any friends who'd like to read it.

Last night I slept in theliving room. My neck has yet to recover. I just may go take a nap now.
shadowtricker: (walk in the rain)
47,050 words, 68 cups of tea, 1 day left to go.
shadowtricker: (words)
Since it's been a while since I posted this:

It's actually 36,708 since I did a bit of writing after midnight, and 58 cups of tea. That's not where I'm supposed to be in wordcount, but it's far enough along that catching up seems feasible. The scene that felt nearly insurmountable two days ago has been drawn to a satisfying close, and I am now on the downhill slope of tying up loose ends. I continue to worry that it's all going along too rapidly and I'll run out of story before 50k, so I welcome any advice or good luck thrown my way.
I have had my good long walk in the wind, a proper if late breakfast, and I intend to type until I can no more or it's time to fetch Bridgielove from work, whichever comes first.
shadowtricker: (gold)
Making tea )

This was originally written for [ profile] dragonwhishes and has been slightly edited, posted here at the request of [ profile] silverton, but as it's gone past six in the morning and I've been up since four, I make no guarantees in regards to my editing skills. I believe I'm going to try going back to bed now.
shadowtricker: (Nemo dreams)
What is the point of insomnia if you can't write a bloody thing?
shadowtricker: (Morpheus considers)
I suspect it's a psychological side effect of writing for a main character suffering arthritis of the hands, combined with the recent cold snap, but it's bloody difficult to type when my own hands are aching. Just this afternoon I was struck with pain all across the left knuckles, which painkillers have failed to erase completely.
I have pass 30,000 at least, and am attempting now the denouement, although it worries me that comes with some 20,000 words left to go in the work. I may still have to go back and expand on earlier scenes, which is a process I've already gone through more than once.

Don't mind the whinging. I'm still happy to take replies on my last post.

On an utterly random note, I took a nap and dreamt of Sam Spade sitting alone in the darkened office after hours, visited by a heavyset gentleman come to squeal that he'd been in with Archer's wife on a plot to murder Archer for some third party who offered a great deal of money. As soon as I woke my mind protested that Archer's wife was only suspected briefly in the beginning of the Maltese Falcon, and turned out not to have anything to do with it.

Additionally: Isn't 'unobscured' a proper word? It is in neither the spellchacker nor our dictionary, yet we've come to a consensus that they're both wrong.


Nov. 21st, 2008 09:30 pm
shadowtricker: (words)
I'm game.
What has surprised you the most about me (if anything) since joining my flist? Was anything completely unexpected or have I always fit the picture of me you have in your head? Post this in your own journal and see how you have surprised people!
Anyone who does not find a thing about me surprising, or takes me for a proper British Gentleman, simply does not know me well enough.

I am currently in AIM, although I mean to try to prod at the writing at the same time. Bridgie is behind me with the new laptop doing the same, sans the distraction of an internet connection, and is therefore likely to be more successful. I have passed 28,000 but as we're meant to hit 40,000 by Monday night this is nothing to crow about. I was supposed to be at 30,000 by Wednesday. Bridgielove and I intend to focus very much on writing this weekend, which should be easier with two computers.

I am also on my fifty-first mug of tea for the month. It's astonishing to find out how much of the stuff I drink now.


Nov. 17th, 2008 02:33 pm
shadowtricker: (Morpheus considers)
I'm afraid the weekend proved far too distracting to get any writing done, and my bar graph on the NaNoWriMo website is depressing. I was so pleased to have caught up by Thursday. I'm hoping this week will prove more productive. I've done roughly two-thousand so far today, putting me at 22,076 when I need to be at roughly 25,000 minimum. I'm still worried about running out of plot before I reach 50,000 but I'm beginning to see there's going to be a substantial amount of wrapping up needed, so perhaps it won't be quite the difficulty I thought it would be. I'm still doing my best to slow the pace with personal reflections from the main characters, allowing them to go off on tangents of thought. I believe back towards the beginning there's still a placeholder for a Maggie interlude. It also occurs to me that at one point the main character, Jeff, spends an evening getting quite drunk. I outlined the plot and then went on to write it much the same way, with him going off in despair to find a bar, then picking up the next morning. It seemed perfectly natural until this morning when I sat down to write, and wondered at myself for it. The drinking was simply a form of summary in the dream that started this, but is that the only reason? Was I afraid of writing out that experience? It's a rather massive opportunity for internal dialogue and personal reflections, a chance to see him with his guard down and at his personal worst. The character of Jeff is, as so many novel characters are, somewhat derivative of myself. I wouldn't call him a Gary Stu or whatever the latest term is, but there are aspects of him as a person that are quite obviously similar to myself. I may be overanalyzing, but I do wonder if I didn't subconsciously avoid showing him in that vulnerable state because it hit too close to home.
I think I shall continue writing as I am for now, furthering the plot, but I have every intention of forcing myself to go back and explore that dark moment when he spends a night alone wallowing in his troubles with a bottle. It needs to be written, and not for his sake alone.

Ah yes, and I have quite lost track but I would estimate I am approaching 40 cups of tea. I think the one I'm on just now may be 39.
Among the weekend activities was a pleasant and lengthy visit to the botanical gardens, where they're getting ready for the winter light show. It was nice to get something of a preview, and we were most caught by a section where all the trees were strung around the trunks with brilliant blue lights, while the leaves were bright yellow. It was gorgeous in a way it will nto be by the time the lights event opens, as the leaves will be gone then. I do wish I'd thought to bring the camera.
shadowtricker: (gold)
I'm a bit muzzy-headed this morning, but Seal was on Regis & Kelly, doing a cover of an old Sam Cooke song. Evidently he sang it for Obama during the campaign as well, it's 'Change is gonna come' and there should be a video out there on the internet somewhere. It's one off a new album released today, entirely his covers of older soul music. Beautiful stuff.
I'm offline to try writing now, I'm terribly behind.
shadowtricker: (Nemo dreams)
Roughly two hours ago I woke, a dilemna of research for NaNo swirling in my head like something approaching critical mass and about to explode into a new solar system. Round and round in the blankets I spun, until tangled up and suddenly far too hot, but after laying a moment exposed, much too cold. I found I could doze, but my mind continued to cycle over the problem, rendering it restless and unfulfilling.
The last two days I've picked at the writing, managing only a few hundred words each day rather than the needed thousand and some. It's likely a minor point and I need to forge on ahead and write without trying to solve it. Corrections can be made later.
My difficulty lies in that I have a very specific geography necessary to the story, but I'm struggling to find a real location to fit within it. There is a city, in which there is an airport, and the greater part of the story remaining takes place there. Every city I find that seems to fit the geography, airport included, I discover did not found such an airport until the 1960's or so which is some two decades after the story takes place. Those cities which seem ideal and contained a quaint airport in the right era seem to be located in entirely the wrong location. I could give up on it all and create a fictional city entirely, but so much of the rest is accurate and historical. Although the story and characters are fictional I suffer this desperate fixation to ground them in as much reality as possible.
Perhaps there can be no solution, so I write, but not what I should be writing.
shadowtricker: (Morpheus considers)
13,114 Words, 23 cups of tea.
I'm extremely grateful for all the advice on writing for Maggie. She's such a major part of the story that I'm glad for that advice to continue. Today I succeeded in that goal of not advancing the plot, but merely focusing on adding her perspective in on the story thus far. There was one scene that required some slight rearrangement to fit her side of things in, but I'm pleased with the results. I have only one spot left with a note to put in a section of her internal workings.
Amusingly enough, my initial work had been relatively narrative from an outside perspective, and now that I've fit in all these pieces of the girl's thoughts, it's all become a bit unbalanced. Tomorrow I'll likely be going through and expanding on his perspective throughout, in hopes that in the end they'll be evenly matched.
As always, I am happy to send friends what I've got written if anyone is curious, but as there's a lot of writing going on at your ends as well I certainly understand if we wait and swap stories only when it's through.
Thank you again, and best of luck in your own writings!
shadowtricker: (Morpheus considers)
11,668 words, which is precisely two words past the total goal according to the website. 20 or 21 cups of tea, I can't quite recall.
The rather dangerous problem I'm encountering is that, accustomed as I am to short stories and the work of condensing an idea into them, my 'novel' is speeding along at an alarming rate. I risk finishing the story before reaching the wordcount goal. Bridgielove is suffering an entirely opposite problem, and jokingly offered to loan me a handful of subplots. The primary solution she's pushed me towards is to add a second perspective to the story. Thus far I had everything through the sole perspective of what I'd thought of as the main character. He is an older man, and the figure through which I saw the dream itself that inspired the story. He does have a companion who figures prominently in the story, and is with him for the majority of the plot. On the very first reading Bridgie asked why I had nothing of her internal dialogue. There's been discussion tonight in terms of character development.
My project for the weekend is to reach the word goal for the two days, without advancing past the point in the story I have just reached. I've already identified four or five places in what I've written where I could insert substantial information from her point of view, including a scene for which my main character is not present.
I welcome advice on writing the internal workings of a teenage girl.
shadowtricker: (words)
A significant moment in history, 10,232 words, 17 cups of tea (I believe. It's getting tricky to keep track of that).
shadowtricker: (walk in the rain)
6,264 words and 15 cups of tea, but I'm not entirely certain I can sleep so I may get a bit more in before the night's through. I fear I'm falling behind. Today was the first day I didn't get my stretch of research in, and I think that's had an impact. It's ridiculous to be focusing so much on the research when you're supposed to simply sit and write, but I feel as though what I learn each day inspires me to details and ideas that my the story would suffer without. It's fuel rather than a distraction, at least this early on. My discovery for yesterday and pulled into the story in today's writing: The Ninety-Nines. I never knew such an organization existed, but I'm glad that it does.
Off to attempt a few more lines amidst election coverage.
shadowtricker: (words)
5,514 words, 11 cups of tea, and 1 completely unexpected revelatory moment of falling in love with an airplane.

We shall see what tomorrow holds, what with the voting worries.

additionally, I shall play. Should the legal authorities come to fetch me away and you see me in the back of a police car, what would I likely be arrested for?
shadowtricker: (words)
I do hope all this works and show the right number. I wrote this evening until I hit an impasse due to lack of technical knowledge. I'll do some research again in the morning.

That should be 3,323 words, and 7 cups of tea although I've got no counter for that.
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