I have…NO IDEA where my 100 Things drafts are.

I have them somewhere on my hard drive but can’t seem to find them right now. I haven’t been able to find them for a bit.
I’m going to have to do some hunting.

On the upside, I figured out what was causing me the twitch, and I cut that medication out.
I should be able to write again in a couple days when it’s completely out of my system.

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MEANWHILE, IN NANOWRIMO…

We are halfway through the month, and I am less than halfway through where I should be at this rate. I have fallen behind, thanks in no small part to the machinations of my peripheral neuropathy dealing incredible damage to my hands. But I’ve begun to see if I can get the catching up part of this done. I’m making a point of it to NOT have my word count total visible, as when I actually LOOK at the totals, I start to freak out. As of this writing right here…I have no idea how I am doing.

 

And now, back to the grind. I REALLY want to make it Four Times.

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Chrysanth WebStory What’s your WebStory today?

Gotta go to work…

 Time to get to work!

Right now, I’ve got a half-liter of water chilling in the fridge. In front of me, there is an assortment of tobacco flavors from my favorite smoke juice dealer. So far, there’s been a lot of “Holy crap that’s a lot of chocolate” moments.

I’m slinging ink this evening. I dodged a bullet with a headache earlier; I’m blaming the weather. No one really knows what’s going on.

I’m not committing to a total output this evening. I’m setting a pomodoro timer for each session, breaking the work up bit by bit. A little bit of a cheat mode, I realize, but it works.

 

Now, time to make a fool out of one of my other characters. =D

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Chrysanth WebStory What’s your WebStory today?

100 Things #37: Chuck Wendig’s books on writing.

OK, give me one more and then I’ll be done fangirling, OK?

Though the lists and advice is pretty much all available on his blog, I have one problem with whitespace—don’t get me wrong, his layout’s classy and understated, it’s just…well, white space hurts my eyes. I picked light bulbs with a warm, redder light because the blinding white walls of my apartment—which I am not allowed to paint—gives me blinding headaches.

There’s something about having some of that snarky, profane wisdom handy at all times. There are lots of places where I got stuck, and actually caught myself asking, “WWCD?” What Would Chuck Do? With all of his work on the subject available at my back pocket, I can find the proper brain-grease to unstick the gears.

It’s not all writing advice, though—there’s life advice, there’s essays on various things, like life in general, and also blisteringly funny satire.

I’d recommend it to any creative types. It translates to every medium.

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Chrysanth WebStory What’s your WebStory today?

100 Things #32: Terribleminds.

The year before last, I was preparing for NaNoWriMo, when I got an article in my inbox spotlighting ‘dubious writing advice,’ as the writer put it. Being morbidly curious—bad advice is sometimes the best thing you can get, because it takes you out of your brain—I clicked on the link in the article.

There should have been a pop-up warning. “NSFW. Probably NSFB [brains].” Because the man is good. His advice is good.

And he’s fricken hilarious.

Incidentally, the coffee was where he got me hooked.

The man’s advice is solid, and his writing—oh, his writing!

…You know what, I could gush all day, but I think I’ll let the link speak for itself.

…and make coffee. ‘Cuz I’m out of coffee.

Chrysanth WebStory What’s your WebStory today?

100 Things: Writing.

If it wasn’t obvious by now, I love to write. I love putting words to paper—or screen, as the case may well be.

It wasn’t always this way.


Gimme a baseball bat. I swing left. If I try to swing right, I just can’t twist that way and it doesn’t work.

Gimme a volleball. Even though my right spike is harder, it’s…well, I’ve seen scatterguns with higher accuracy. So I serve left.

Gimme a sabre. I’ll fence right until my arm gives out—which is kinda fast. Then I’ll switch left and be slower, but more accurate and last longer. …I guess that’s one we can validly call ambidextrous.

But overwhelmingly, if I have to do something I’m going to reach left first.

Which is why writing frustrated me at an early age. I’d thin left, but them Mom would walk by my little yellow worktable and ‘correct’ me—which probably explains the serial-killer slant I have to hold the paper at to even write on a straight line. It was a necessary evil.

It wasn’t until I was about seven, when we got cable, that I thought about writing for a reason that wasn’t a homework assignment. Nickelodeon introduced me to a cartoon called Doug, the main character of which regularly wrote in a journal—giving rise to my realization that writing things like that didn’t have to be a super girly “Dear Diary” moment, something I actively avoided being because—well, I liked videogames and cars, I simply couldn’t do that!

I saved my juice money from lunch for two weeks, then on a family trip to Family Dollar I bought a cute little journal. It had pretty lined paper and a picture of a kitten on its glossy cover. At around the same time, I bought my first ink pens—journaling didn’t seem like something that you took to as lightly as a silly homework assignment. I was coming at this with a pretty blue pen, just like Doug did in his show.

…of course that first entry was a goofy, jokey affair in which I introduced myself to my new journal, gave it an idea of what to expect, and then closed off with a signature.

For the first time I noticed that things around me were interesting sometimes. It was hard to keep to that clearly delineated two pages per entry after a while, and I developed my distinctive TINY handwriting.

I was still journaling when I lost my mother. Most of the following year and a half seems to have been an extended fugue state, and even though I’d think that the time just hadn’t happened, reading over those entries every few months was a reminder that time had simply not stopped, and I hadn’t just fallen out of the world at some point. At that point things were very straightforward accountings of what had happened that day. There were no associated feelings, just facts.

It wasn’t until fifth grade that I realized that writing could also be inventive and fun—hilarious in hindsight now that I think about it—when we get a homework assignment. We were to rewrite the ending to a story we read for class. I remember having the woman go insane, snap temporarily back to forgive her friend for something that hadn’t actually happened, then snap right back into madness (at one point I had her conversing fluent French to a tree). The third part got copied off of me and the turkey never got called for it—but I didn’t care. I’d started having fun doing little narratives.


Fast forward to seventh grade I’m twelve, in literature class, and BORED. I’ve pulled out a sheet of my good looseleaf—the narrow-rule paper—and have started writing down things that come to mind. Nothing I’ve committed to, just little snips of ideas.

Suddenly an assignment. Creative writing. Write whatever, as long as it has a clear plot, progression, et cetera. It must be based off of a legend.

I wrote my first short story for an assignment in class.

I didn’t know if it was well-received for a while…but then there was a thing in the school paper.

For one, suddenly we had a school paper.

For another, my story was in it.

Later that year, when our principal/lit teacher left the school, she flagged me down, holding a box. It had one thing on it: A note, reading “Never stop writing.” Inside was a Cross pen and pencil set.

I haven’t stopped since.

That’s when I get my idea:

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A ROUNDUP: WEEK 1 OF 2013—ALSO SOME RAMBLING

ALLOW ME A LITTLE INDULGENCE. I AM YELLING IN CAPS LOCK. RIGHT NOW IT’S THE ONLY WAY I CAN YELL. AFTER SHAKING OFF THE LAST OF THE MIGRAINE, A MINOR SINUS BUG STARTED GOING AROUND THE AREA. A COUPLE PEOPLE NEAR WORK HAVE HAD IT.

MY SINUSES ARE TERRIBLE. WHAT IS MILD DISCOMFORT FOR EVERYONE ELSE HAS PROGRESSED INTO LARYNGITIS OFF AND ON FOR ME. YELL YELL SHOUT GNASH WARBLE.

…There, it’s out of my system.

I’ve also been wrestling my meds. Now that I’m back on them regularly, I’m having to deal with the fact that thanks to all the pills I am…INCREDIBLY HEAVILY sedated. Cutting the caffeine out was a BAD idea—I don’t survive an hour and a half after taking them without it.

It is a damn good thing I have tomorrow off. *eyes meds suspiciously*


Don’t think that I have forgotten about the 100 Things Project for a minute! I plan on getting right back to those just as soon as I know my head isn’t going to kick me into a rebound migraine. I’ve been avoiding taking anything for headaches over the last few days (last night broke the embargo for a while: I had the worst sore throat, what I now know to be the start of this case of laryngitis); when I know I’m safe from spending another week being nocturnal, I plan on getting right back in where I left off.


Kinda boring, isn’t it?

To make up for that, here’s a kitten stampede.

 

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