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urbandruidSomebody flipped a switch, and winter is here. Suddenly it's cold, it's wet, it's raining. I'm glad my gloves and my boots are broken in. I wish I had a coat that was a little warmer, but it's pouring, so I'll grab the trenchcoat today and not worry about it. Too much.
I hate Mondays. Nothing new there, but it's still threw.
My NaNo word count is up to 2373. The novel still has no working title, and I've written a lot of crap already, but it's strangely liberating. No, it is. I've never been told it's okay to write crap before. In fact, the last person who tried to tell me anything about writing was a "creative writing" instructor at Fresno City, who is death on most genres of writing. Except popular.
Yeah. Popular is a genre. What he means is stuff set in the here and now, no spaceships or magic or talking trees or whatever, and also not too much blood or violence because that's horror- and no romance at all, 'cause that's, yeah, romance.
I left this classroom quietly on the first day of school, and I never went back. I should have slammed the door, said something. Anything. Warned the fools still sitting raptly attentive at their desks that whatever creativity they thought they had, this man was going to kill.
But I'm shy and slightly scared of authority figures, and I didn't want to get into trouble or embarras myself, so I just walked away.
I still hear people give this guy's name as a good English instructor, and I cringe. I hated the woman I took English Comp from, but I'm usually willing to take more abuse from people who have me write papers than I ever will from people who have me write fiction. Or not-papers, anyway.
I've come to the conclusion that no one can teach me how to write. I know what I'm doing, I always have. If sometimes I suck at it anyway, it's because I started when I was about six, and these things happen. And the fanfic when I was twelve, and...yeah.
I think I'm going to have some fun with NaNo. I'll certainly be driving everyone crazy with word counts and updates. As soon as I can write a bit I like slightly more, I'll start throwing exceprts out there. 'Cause everyone needs to be subjected to this.
I got approved for yet another fanlisting today, which brings my total of sites I need to finish or even build to- um. Five. And I think a couple of them are pretty late already, which means pretty soon strangers will be yelling at me again. Bah. Whatever.
On the other hand, it's getting towards finals, and what do I need right now but more stuff I should be doing, more projects to split my concentration? Sometimes I do work best under pressure...or I bend under it, get sick, get those lovely little stres-induced cold sores, and make everyone around me miserable bitching about how I have no time, too much to do, and need more sleep.
I love this weather, even though I'm freezing. It's the kind of day when I'd love to stay home, drink warm tea and coffee, listen to the rain, and write.
Yep. Good to know. She says, as she gathers her school crap and prepairs to hike out the door. :)
I hate Mondays. Nothing new there, but it's still threw.
My NaNo word count is up to 2373. The novel still has no working title, and I've written a lot of crap already, but it's strangely liberating. No, it is. I've never been told it's okay to write crap before. In fact, the last person who tried to tell me anything about writing was a "creative writing" instructor at Fresno City, who is death on most genres of writing. Except popular.
Yeah. Popular is a genre. What he means is stuff set in the here and now, no spaceships or magic or talking trees or whatever, and also not too much blood or violence because that's horror- and no romance at all, 'cause that's, yeah, romance.
I left this classroom quietly on the first day of school, and I never went back. I should have slammed the door, said something. Anything. Warned the fools still sitting raptly attentive at their desks that whatever creativity they thought they had, this man was going to kill.
But I'm shy and slightly scared of authority figures, and I didn't want to get into trouble or embarras myself, so I just walked away.
I still hear people give this guy's name as a good English instructor, and I cringe. I hated the woman I took English Comp from, but I'm usually willing to take more abuse from people who have me write papers than I ever will from people who have me write fiction. Or not-papers, anyway.
I've come to the conclusion that no one can teach me how to write. I know what I'm doing, I always have. If sometimes I suck at it anyway, it's because I started when I was about six, and these things happen. And the fanfic when I was twelve, and...yeah.
I think I'm going to have some fun with NaNo. I'll certainly be driving everyone crazy with word counts and updates. As soon as I can write a bit I like slightly more, I'll start throwing exceprts out there. 'Cause everyone needs to be subjected to this.
I got approved for yet another fanlisting today, which brings my total of sites I need to finish or even build to- um. Five. And I think a couple of them are pretty late already, which means pretty soon strangers will be yelling at me again. Bah. Whatever.
On the other hand, it's getting towards finals, and what do I need right now but more stuff I should be doing, more projects to split my concentration? Sometimes I do work best under pressure...or I bend under it, get sick, get those lovely little stres-induced cold sores, and make everyone around me miserable bitching about how I have no time, too much to do, and need more sleep.
I love this weather, even though I'm freezing. It's the kind of day when I'd love to stay home, drink warm tea and coffee, listen to the rain, and write.
Yep. Good to know. She says, as she gathers her school crap and prepairs to hike out the door. :)
