don't get your fingers caught in my machine
Well, who's a productive lil bunny then?
That would be meeee.
Well, not quite. Woke up this morning and went for proper brunch at (one of) the local cafe with the last of the stories to critique for tomorrow's meeting. Luckily, it was also the one I liked the best. Still, I managed to finish the pen halfway through. And it was my last damned one too! I have now established that neither of the two newsagents in Annandale nor the post office stock my favourite pen. Urgh. No matter. I'm working tomorrow so can restock before the meeting. It's all good. Or not. Ah well, I'll make a trip to the city anyway. Need to pay off my blue shoes.
Curious thing with critiquing/editing stories one after the other. After a while, this lil voice in the back of my head gets louder and louder and this is what it says: "Oh yeah, oh yeah? Bitch, why don't you put your pen where your mouth is and write your own damned novel?!"
*cough* Why can't the voices in your head ever be nice fluffy sweet and kind?
But seriously, it's pretty damned valuable how working on other people's stories can teach you so much about what works and what doesn't work, all the little tips you can use in your own writing. And sometimes it's just fucking marvellous to discover you've read three pages without having to make a single constructive suggestion. That happened last night cos omg the speculative fiction novel is bloody awesome! She's such a good writer. How she juggled the information, all those names, put the voice across note perfect, and then went right into the ominous action with just the right touch of humour and acidity. I'm in total awe. Must remember to say so.
Anyway, came home, finished the critique, and printed out eight copies of the next seven pages of said novel. Seven pages because I wanted to include the end of the scene so the group doesn't think this scene will go on for ever and ever. Especially considering one of them said last time that I need to get to the action quicker. And that was only the first five pages. Oy. We'll see. He does have a point, it's something I worry about every now and then.
I read it aloud just now. Tripped up a couple of times so I should make those notes tomorrow night and paused at one point where it seemed like I had given her two different ages in the space of a page. I hadn't. But I bet you someone will be confused by that. Gonna have to clarify that.
Frankly, right now the last thing I want to do is write. What I want to do is go rent out the first two seasons of Supernatural from the video store. But I may delay that til the end of season three. And oh look, five movies on top of speaker to watch. Including LeFroy. *cough*
I am not obsessed. Merely affectionate.
To all the artists I know, allow me to share my favourite Roland Orzabal lyric: ... take your time and take your chance ... don't be fooled by circumstance.
Och, aye!
That would be meeee.
Well, not quite. Woke up this morning and went for proper brunch at (one of) the local cafe with the last of the stories to critique for tomorrow's meeting. Luckily, it was also the one I liked the best. Still, I managed to finish the pen halfway through. And it was my last damned one too! I have now established that neither of the two newsagents in Annandale nor the post office stock my favourite pen. Urgh. No matter. I'm working tomorrow so can restock before the meeting. It's all good. Or not. Ah well, I'll make a trip to the city anyway. Need to pay off my blue shoes.
Curious thing with critiquing/editing stories one after the other. After a while, this lil voice in the back of my head gets louder and louder and this is what it says: "Oh yeah, oh yeah? Bitch, why don't you put your pen where your mouth is and write your own damned novel?!"
*cough* Why can't the voices in your head ever be nice fluffy sweet and kind?
But seriously, it's pretty damned valuable how working on other people's stories can teach you so much about what works and what doesn't work, all the little tips you can use in your own writing. And sometimes it's just fucking marvellous to discover you've read three pages without having to make a single constructive suggestion. That happened last night cos omg the speculative fiction novel is bloody awesome! She's such a good writer. How she juggled the information, all those names, put the voice across note perfect, and then went right into the ominous action with just the right touch of humour and acidity. I'm in total awe. Must remember to say so.
Anyway, came home, finished the critique, and printed out eight copies of the next seven pages of said novel. Seven pages because I wanted to include the end of the scene so the group doesn't think this scene will go on for ever and ever. Especially considering one of them said last time that I need to get to the action quicker. And that was only the first five pages. Oy. We'll see. He does have a point, it's something I worry about every now and then.
I read it aloud just now. Tripped up a couple of times so I should make those notes tomorrow night and paused at one point where it seemed like I had given her two different ages in the space of a page. I hadn't. But I bet you someone will be confused by that. Gonna have to clarify that.
Frankly, right now the last thing I want to do is write. What I want to do is go rent out the first two seasons of Supernatural from the video store. But I may delay that til the end of season three. And oh look, five movies on top of speaker to watch. Including LeFroy. *cough*
I am not obsessed. Merely affectionate.
To all the artists I know, allow me to share my favourite Roland Orzabal lyric: ... take your time and take your chance ... don't be fooled by circumstance.
Och, aye!