"I don't understand" seems to be my new catchphrase. I don't get it, but there it is ( Read more... )

So, how the whole thing went today. In detail, because, again, I am documenting the shit out of everything from here on out so it will help me later, or help others now ( Read more... )

My big project over the past few days: sorting through and organizing some 15 years' worth of gaming notes and character sheets. Because I am proud of the feat and inordinately pleased by the presence of all my imaginary people in one place, I am making you look at the magnificent results:


( Read more... )

For a lot of writers, writing is a form of therapy, and character creation is a form of wishful thinking. The process of becoming a good writer often involves jettisoning these impulses in favor of less obvious forms of wish fulfillment. Ideally, you learn how to transmute the personal and channel it back into the story in an unrecognizable form ( Read more... )

I have been feeling unaccountably fucking hostile the past few days. Not so you'd notice to talk to me, but it is there. And this isn't an irritable kind of hostile, it's not brittle or bitchy at all. It's just a bone-deep pissoff that won't quit. I want to find an ass and kick it just as hard as I can. I want to run something down and tear ( Read more... )

I had, sometime early this month, a really cool dream I want to put down before I forget about it entirely ( Read more... )

Obviously, you can see that I decided not to exile my dreams to a separate journal. They'll do just fine here. I'm almost sorry, though, because your name suggestions were quite entertaining ( Read more... )

It's only been weeks, but I do remember. A while back, when I offered to answer random questions, a few squeaked under the bar, and missed the second post by inches. Without further ado, here they are, in all their vaguely-embarrassing glory.

( True love, the people living in my head, and death. )

If anyone was born to lycanthropy, I am she.

I was born under a full moon.

When they cut me from my mother, I came out covered in fine hairs. Because of the manner of my birth, I emerged covered in blood, and they tell me I smiled. I do not remember.

So I often think I was born to this: mania. Touched by the moon-goddess in her fright mask, ( Read more... )

This morning feels bright and exceptionally clean. The sun is shining into my eyes as I write this, and I can hear sparrows fighting outside my window. Outside, it's brisk but not frigid, and whenever the breeze blows, great shimmering curtains of yellow leaves come sighing down. It feels like a new beginning, everything fresh and clean and new ( Read more... )