This is a new doomed quest.

So, for those of you who don't know, I will be embarking on a new quest in about a week two days ONE DAY -3 days -16 days. (This is evidence of how easily I forget to update my blog.)

[EDIT: This is inexcusable. Started Screnzy and this blog post has been sitting in my drafts for almost a month. My only excuse? Job and Finals. And both of those should mostly within the next week. Yay!]

If you saw me last November, you might remember that there was a certain air of...neurotic manic craziness about me, as I tried to cram writing 50k words of a novel into one month. It was a breath-taking, exhilarating, and utterly terrifying experience, and come December I had a winner's certificate, the germ of an idea, thousands of now-irrelevant words which I pitched into the trash as soon as possible, and also a rekindled desire to inflict the ravings of my mind upon the masses. And those who live in the same house as me were glad to have me back among the ranks of the sociable, who would no longer bite their heads off if they talked to me while I was writing.

Well, the madness and social withdrawal begins again on April 1st.

Event: Script Frenzy
When: April 1st - 30th
Goal: Write 100 pages of a play, screenplay, TV script, or graphic novel.

Insanity? Not quite. But add in the fact that April is my finals month? A resounding YES! I am officially stark raving mad! But it's better that way. :-)

So for my script I am going to do a movie screenplay. I actually had this idea for a novel, but for a prolonged lack of a Screnzy idea, I decided to do a screenplay since I always wonder what the movie versions of my ideas would look like anyway.

It's going to be about a spirit who turns himself human in order to be with the woman he loves. But when she betrays him, he's stuck on Earth

It's about a Time Agent named Luke who gives up his reality-altering powers and becomes fully human in order to stay with the woman he loves. But when she betrays him, he's stuck on Earth, utterly alone and powerless. Add to that the fact that his arch-enemy, a member of a Separatist Cell made up of Time Agents gone rogue, who was supposed to be locked up, is now loose, and is bent on erasing the current reality and replacing it with one where the Agency doesn't exist. Can our beloved main character reconcile himself to a life on Earth, and save the world at the same time?

The Frenzy begins in two days. It began half a month ago.

Current: 6 pages
Should Be: 56 pages

So I have just a little bit of work to do. (^_^)

I am sorry for the rather A.D.D. nature of this post. Things tend to get screwy when you delay so long that the tense of your context changes. =P

Ahh, I can't even read over this again. It's too painful and disjointed. *Post*

:-)

Oh my god. I just found this.

It's the picture I drew of Razzmatazz, the ass-kicking homeless hippie hobo elf!

And now, as he'd say, Catcha later, groovy lady! *wink*

Ambition is a Corpse.

Precisely so.

I haven't really written anything in forever. This is good.

Enough of that. This blog was supposed to be about my whole life, not just about my literary endeavors. So, Life, what's going on with you?


Life *reading off a notepad*: You're about to bake a cake, hopefully, and you haven't practiced guitar in two days, before which you practiced for two days, before which you didn't touch it for a week, before which you were going strong for a month.

(Why does my Life speak with a high-pitched British accent?)

Me: That's it?

Life: Yes.

Me: Screw this. Back to the activities on the writing front!

Writing Front: *cricketcricketcricketcricketcricketcricketcricketcricketcricket*

Oh, bugger.

Magic Babies Are SO Overdone!

This is the blog post that really should have been a comment, but which is long enough that it's too long to be a comment. And I still would have made it a comment, except that when I got to the bit with the title in it, I simply could not resist writing a post with that title.

So.

I see the point a certain plot-ranting reader was trying to make. But regardless of what I write, I still have the problem of ending up with too many words, whether it's a prologue or not because I think of the interesting plot points/character lines/scenes, I write them, and then I dig myself into a hole as I try to fill in the bits in between.

And speaking of prologues, they don't always have to be 'mysterious' or 'vague.' Actually, I feel that the point of a prologue is to include a relevant piece of story that is essential for plot/understanding purposes, but which for some reason doesn't fit in with the rest of it, either in terms of point of view, or chronologically, like if it took place in the past or future. And I think that if there's really nothing that fits into that category, then you don't need a prologue. Far too many people put in a vague prologue because they think they should have one, rather than put one in because they have an important bit that doesn't fit.

Magic babies are so overdone!

As for the overly dramatic he just did WHAT!? scenes, they are one of the reasons I end up with too much junk going on in the first place. I know personally (mainly from the lack of suitable reaction evinced by my poor sister upon the perusal of a series of execrably scribed "dramatic" scenes that I inflicted upon her, whihc served to confuse rather than excite) that I, as the author, will see the full shocking implication of what the character just did. But to someone who can't see into their head like I can, things happening out of the blue will tend to annoy rather than intrigue because they don't know why they're supposed to get all . That's why I try to spend some time leading up to the action so it will make sense, rather than just having it come at the reader out of the blue.

Easier said than done.

In fact, what this results in is a series of little scenes where I can see how to let the reader know some of the character's motivations, and their current situation, by blending them with action. Except the tricky bits come in when I try to link them together. That's how I write: I write the good bits that I can think of, then I fill in the gaps between. That's really why one scene ends up so long, because when I try to transition from one thing to another everything just blows up around me. Dialogue gets long-winded, as I try to direct conversation from one topic to another while revealing necessary information. One scene turns into a long string of little confrontations and adventures, as I make references to previous scenes that I then have to explain.

That's what happened with this one character...without revealing any specific details, she's an emotionless b!tch who does something horrible, something that not even she is insensitive to, and she finally has to deal with the full trauma and consequences of her act and has to re-learn how to feel emotion and empathize with the pain of others. I was going to start off with the horrible act, but it wouldn't seem so horrible...rather, it would seem corny...if you didn't know what kind of person she was. And it just went from there. 

'Nuff said. Basically...it's one big tangle. :-D

=( (= (Textual rendition of creepy grinning/weeping masks)

All right bloggie-poo, I realize I have been somewhat neglecting you. I will now minister to your vanity by updating you, although the further inflation of your fatheadedness will be somewhat tempered by the realization that I am only doing this to procrastinate on writing a paper for my music class.

How's that for a sadistic passive-agressive no-more Mr. Nice Guy quarter on a string screw you vending machine blow to the self-esteem?

No, I'm not angry. I'm pretty okay right now...just winding down after a day of work. They finally gave me something to do! This is good. The bad bit is, I am not at all familiar with the development environment, so I don't know how to figure out what I don't know. But I'm getting there, so hopefully that will resolve itself.

Oh, depravity. I have stooped to using Internet Explorer because I have two gmail accounts open at the same time, so if I stick to Firefox I can't edit this blog at the same time as checking my other email address. Ah, peste.

Meanwhile, I am not naming any names, but someone I am thinkig of right now needs to update her blog. You will know who you are, because the minute I write these words you will, for seemingly no reason whatsoever, think of a purple hippo with the word 'DESULTORY' painted in huge pink letters on her stomach. That is my telepathic mind-modifiying awesomeness in effect.

So. Lastly, a quick update on the writing front:

[insert snarky picture of tired animal making sardonic/sarcastic face]

I am on break. That's it. I am clearing my head before I start re-planning the dregs of what was once NaNo10. It has exploded in my face and I feel like I am making no progress even though I suppose I am. Curse my verbosity! That's why it takes me 3000 words (approximately ten pages, for my non-obsessively "page-from-word-count"ing friends) to write what was originally supposed to be a single to two or three page prologue. Now imagine what my pen/fingers do to a whole chapter. Yes. I have a deplorable habit of going off on thought or dialogue tangents, in order to explore an interesting idea.

I lied.

That is technically true, but if it was so easily defined I could just catch it right there, write it down for later, and continue writing. The truth is, I start from a single-sentence outline of a scene, and I start writing it, but then I find out that in order for the reader to understand what just happened, they have to know the context around it. Then I spend time writing the context (not simply exposition, but things that actually happen). Sometimes even the context spawns context. The end result is that I find that my initial scene was really somewhere in the middle. But then the problem is that I now have a whole bunch more of the beginning to write, plus I now have the rest of the original middle, and the end to write, and the new stuff disrupts the flow of the old stuff, because the original inception of the plot, the pivotal beginning event, must wait on some beginning scenes, which completely throws off the flow.

Dilemma: to write relevant beginning scenes, and completely replan the book, or jump right in, but no one understands why this is so important because knows what is going on?


Ugh.

Evil Laugh and General Amusement

Oh, I am good. 

I just realized that Harry Potter resolves the inherent paradox that arises when trying to unify general relativity and quantum mechanics. It's called magic. Basically it works by reproducing the crazy junk that goes on at the quantum level on a macroscopic scale, thus successfully using both theories. Further examination of the workings of this phenomenon can provide us with the final theory of everything!

Avada Kedavra.

Read The Title To Understand the Significance of the Title.

There. With a bit of simple logical wordplay, I have obliterated the indecision and anxiety which plagued me upon seeing an empty box gazing at me with its blank lidless stare of guilt until I thought of a title that wasn't "Aaargh" or "Meh" and which also had something to do with the content of this post. I have now foiled this beast from hell which tried to unnerve me with its Sphinx-like implacability, by managing to write down a meaningful title that actually conveys nothing at all.

I am afraid this post will be a long and vague one, and about as diary-like (OMG!!! SQUEEEEE DAVID TENNANT!!! [1]) as my mind-splurges ever get. I will by turns be unashamedly brazen and arrogant, puffing off my self-worth by proclaiming it to the Internets, and whip-lashingly sensitive and vulnerable. Oh, joy. If this prospect fills you with terror (as it should), run away. Now.

My delicate emotional state is best summarized by a storm in a teacup. I don't even know what this expression means (at least, not yet. The Google will be hearing from me shortly), but the image thereby conjured up best summarizes the fluctuating fireworks show of electrical nerve impulses that plague the synapses of my centralized ganglia.

I am right on the borderline between whooping and hollering for joy and screaming and b!tching at everyone I meet. And to those who think that this averages out into general ambivalence or pessimistic apathy, you are wrong. It means, with the simultaneity paradox characteristic of the non-serial nature of human emotional definitions, that I am feeling both at the same time, and the resulting tension of conflicting streams of emotion is creating a feedback loop which forces me to think over the various things that have happened to me this week thereby intensifying the various emotional states which aforementioned events eventuated in me, thereby increasing the strength of the emotional feedback loop.

In order to eradicate any personal bias, and to preserve the impartiality necessary to psychoanalyze myself, it must be noted that my happiness level just increased infinitesimally when I wrote down that last sentence.

I can't do anything about it now, of course, because I am at work. But something, somewhere very far away, is exploding. The probability of an explosion of any type occurring in a given location is rare, but sum up the probability of an explosion happening ever, and you get a lot of things exploding. Broaden the given definition of now from the smallest possible division of time (planck-second) to something in human range...say, give or take two minutes before/after making this statement, so then whether by alien machinations, or the products of human technological development, it is almost certain that something somewhere is exploding, perhaps by unlikely spontaneous combustion or someone is doing fireworks, lighting gasoline, or, what is a lot more likely, the Mythbusters are blowing up a car...again [2]. Filtering out the issue of determining simultaneity in order to determine now-ness (thus mentally achieving the impossible by putting a star on it and ignoring it), my argument holds water like a blob of orange juice in space sucked out through a straw! Don't fail me, probability. So it is technically true that though I am at work and can't do anything, something somewhere is probably exploding. Well, I never said they had to be related events, did I? Correlation does not imply causation, so if you see me standing looking innocent by a ball of fire and ash that smells like kerosene, and I am quickly shoving matches into my pocket, this means you can't prove anything. [3]

So. The reasons for this ridiculous rambling (and, I think, utterly awesome awesomeness):

• Rdio, I am utterly and completely in love with you. And even though I am still on my free trial period, I think it is just so great how I can listen to almost anything I want over the Internets for just $10 a month without having to decide whether to commit to buying an album that I might not like. Now I need have no compunctions about going ahead and listening to that interesting-sounding group who sounds similar to another group. I knew from the moment I met you that we had something special. You had me at "offline mobile syncing."
• I got an internship. This is good. I will lose a large chunk of free time, and the ability to sleep in however late I want. This is a travesty. But the pay makes it just a little bit more worthwhile. Oh, and the job experience. :-D
• I am concerned that I will no longer be able to keep up with my musical instrument practice and writing. Le Sigh.

 I haven't written for a while. I know I didn't do so yesterday. So to round off today's entry, here is a short mini-excerpt. (Again, DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction written purely for amusement. I am not making any money on this. Copyright on all Harry Potter characters (except Denga and Bode Righteous) and the world, etc. belongs to J.K. Rowling. Thanks for letting me borrow them, J.K.R., they're a barrel of laughs!)

Hedwig rolled her eyes. She recognized that dopey look. It meant that Harry was going to ask her something embarrassing.

“Go ahead,” she said, wearily, and muttered under her breath. You whiny little twerp. If you didn’t have the unlikely gift of preparing candied baby mice exactly as I like them, with cotton candy chocolate sprinkles studded in their soft little tiny pink eyes, I’d ditch your worthless carcass faster than Severus Snape confronted with a bubble bath.

Harry’s head swam. Hedwig’s voice was fading into her usual toots and whoos.

“Hedwig,” said Harry, carefully, albeit a bit thickly, for even with his senses disordered, a small part of him that remained sane (namely, his sense of self-preservation) told him to tread warily. “Hedwig…you’re a girl. Why do you sound like a man? Like…Professor Snape would sound while confessing his undying love for Professor Umbridge?”

“Remember,” said Hedwig, “I am merely (too whoo!) An extension of your subconscious, (hoot hoot hoot) made temporarily real under the influence of firewhiskey. (Whirrrrr) I sound like whatever you (whoo hoo whoo hoo) want me to sound like.” You sick bastard. Snape, indeed. Couldn’t your warped mentality have fixated on Julia Roberts instead? Whoo hoo.

“’Snice,” said Harry, and passed out, his head landing on a carpet that, had he been aware of it, now had the exact same pattern as Professor Minerva McGonagall’s tartan dressing gown.


Sayonara.

[1] David Tennant: The ONLY actor/famous person who is capable of eliciting such an over-the-top crazed fangirl-like response from me because he is just that awesome. With that statement, the famous-person-worshipping obsessive type of hormone-splurge obligatory to all "diary entries" is over for this post.

[2] Or, uhh...exploding frogs. Even more bizarrely, fruit.

[3] That was a joke, Internets. I am not going to blow anything up.