'Tis your Editor here. Can you believe it?! I am finally on-line, albeit at the local downtown library, but, seriously, you can't keep a good Editor and writer down for any length of time.
Quick bits o news:
I have the next installment of "The Sleepy Hollow Inn" and cannot use the local CPU to put it into the system or I would do so this very moment! It is good, my friends and readers, beyond good! If all else fails I will send my beloved disk with such wonderful info upon it to work with Hubby and have Hubby email to Cheyenne who can then post it for your apt reading amusement. One of the really interesting things about the story is that I am currently unable to figure out the end or even the bad guy yet, and I am doing the editing! M. Davenport makes sure to send only the most necessary of sections which makes me (yes, we know) chomp at the bit because I want to know what happens! Now!
My own writing progresses. I am going to be using the time spent here at the library past the internet hour (blast that little ticking clock that keeps counting down on me from above the screen!) and do even more writing. The plan is still working. One day I write on Project A and the next day I write on Project B. Repeat. Saturday is a free writing day meaning I write on whatever pops into my head if I have time and Sunday, well, Sunday just isn't a writing day.
Since I have a ride to town tomorrow, I shall update more!
Miss you muchly!
Me
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Of Editors and Wrestling
Cheyenne here.
The Editor is still unplugged, as it were. To confound matters slightly, she had a nasty reaction to something she ate over the weekend, and spent much of yesterday sleeping or exceptionally groggy. She is, however, in fine spirits today – well, as fine as she can be while still unplugged, of course.
Along with the Internet service, they have also lost their cable TV. Which doesn't bother her a great deal, although there is one thing she misses very much – namely her wrestling. She is, as she has stated herself, a 'wrasslin' geek,' which is very much true.
I am not. I can appreciate the level of athletic ability on display, but the entire wrestling mileau, with the good guys and the bad guys and the side switching and the sensationalism and the hoopla never really caught my attention. I've seen it describes as a modern mythology, similar to the tales told in ancient Greece about Hercules and the Argonauts, and I can see that. At the same time, I can imagine there were one or two skeptics listening to tales about the labors of Hercules and saying things like, “Rigged, the lot of them. That lion was doubtless no larger than a small dog or a large rat, and the stables probably had been built in a lowland and the river flooded. One big fake.”
I don't think wrestling is fake, per se. Scripted, yes, much of the time, at least, but I will never call it fake – I mean, you can fake the hits all you want, but no matter how you control it, you're still dropping onto a hard surface supported by tractor springs (I believe) when you get body slammed.
So I don't follow wrestling, but The Editor loves it – she has her favorites, and her least favorites, and if you were to call on a night to talk to her while she's watching her wrestling, chances are she'll only be kind of listening to you. But we all get like that – I get like that watching anything to do with Spider-Man – so we can forgive her that. She's a fan, and fans of something get caught up in it, whether it's a particular TV show, a movie, a sports team, a painter, a book, a car race, looking for a particular bird – or wrestling. It's what makes us fans – the willingness to get swept up in something grand and magnificent and entertaining for a little while. Because sometimes, that little diversion is what we need to help us make sense of the rest of our life.
I helped her with her diversion a little today, by looking up the results of last night's matches and reading them to her earlier on. I imagine I'll do that again before she gets her cable TV back. I don't mind so much, really. That's what friends do, after all – and fans, for that matter.
The Editor is still unplugged, as it were. To confound matters slightly, she had a nasty reaction to something she ate over the weekend, and spent much of yesterday sleeping or exceptionally groggy. She is, however, in fine spirits today – well, as fine as she can be while still unplugged, of course.
Along with the Internet service, they have also lost their cable TV. Which doesn't bother her a great deal, although there is one thing she misses very much – namely her wrestling. She is, as she has stated herself, a 'wrasslin' geek,' which is very much true.
I am not. I can appreciate the level of athletic ability on display, but the entire wrestling mileau, with the good guys and the bad guys and the side switching and the sensationalism and the hoopla never really caught my attention. I've seen it describes as a modern mythology, similar to the tales told in ancient Greece about Hercules and the Argonauts, and I can see that. At the same time, I can imagine there were one or two skeptics listening to tales about the labors of Hercules and saying things like, “Rigged, the lot of them. That lion was doubtless no larger than a small dog or a large rat, and the stables probably had been built in a lowland and the river flooded. One big fake.”
I don't think wrestling is fake, per se. Scripted, yes, much of the time, at least, but I will never call it fake – I mean, you can fake the hits all you want, but no matter how you control it, you're still dropping onto a hard surface supported by tractor springs (I believe) when you get body slammed.
So I don't follow wrestling, but The Editor loves it – she has her favorites, and her least favorites, and if you were to call on a night to talk to her while she's watching her wrestling, chances are she'll only be kind of listening to you. But we all get like that – I get like that watching anything to do with Spider-Man – so we can forgive her that. She's a fan, and fans of something get caught up in it, whether it's a particular TV show, a movie, a sports team, a painter, a book, a car race, looking for a particular bird – or wrestling. It's what makes us fans – the willingness to get swept up in something grand and magnificent and entertaining for a little while. Because sometimes, that little diversion is what we need to help us make sense of the rest of our life.
I helped her with her diversion a little today, by looking up the results of last night's matches and reading them to her earlier on. I imagine I'll do that again before she gets her cable TV back. I don't mind so much, really. That's what friends do, after all – and fans, for that matter.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
I Am Dis-Connected.
I am dictating this to Cheyenne, who is typing it for you.
Internet service is spotchie. Forget splotty, forget spotty, it’s spotchie. However things are slowly in the works to righting themselves, so you will have the next installment of “The Sleepy Hollow Inn” relatively soon.
On the creative front, since there is a lack of Internet, though it vexes my soul sorely, it’s proving to be a good thing. Story A has at least 4 pages written on it, which is very good. I just wish I could type them, but I want to finish this chapter before I do that. Story B will be worked on today.
Since there are so many stories at the current point, I take one day for one story and another day for another story. It’s amazing how well this works out.
So, there will be updates. There will be stories. Just no specific day for anything – it’ll be catch as catch can. But, hopefully, the next thing that comes up will be the next part of “The Sleepy Hollow Inn.” No promises, but I will try. I will try my darndest.
-- The Editor
Internet service is spotchie. Forget splotty, forget spotty, it’s spotchie. However things are slowly in the works to righting themselves, so you will have the next installment of “The Sleepy Hollow Inn” relatively soon.
On the creative front, since there is a lack of Internet, though it vexes my soul sorely, it’s proving to be a good thing. Story A has at least 4 pages written on it, which is very good. I just wish I could type them, but I want to finish this chapter before I do that. Story B will be worked on today.
Since there are so many stories at the current point, I take one day for one story and another day for another story. It’s amazing how well this works out.
So, there will be updates. There will be stories. Just no specific day for anything – it’ll be catch as catch can. But, hopefully, the next thing that comes up will be the next part of “The Sleepy Hollow Inn.” No promises, but I will try. I will try my darndest.
-- The Editor
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Cute as can be!
This made me laugh. I probably should go surfing on YouTube, but sometimes it is most fun. And, as soon as I get things organized a little more, all you'll have to do is click a play button!
Monday, September 18, 2006
Friday, September 15, 2006
The Sleepy Hollow Inn, Part IV
The Sleepy Hollow Inn
By M. Davenport
I sat beside her for perhaps almost a minute in our cooperative silence before my curiosity wrung the question that was burning on my mind, "May I ask why you asked me something so...metaphysical?"
I did not want to be rude, yet, at the same time, I was most curious. Of course I could have invaded her mind, but what fun would that have been? That always seemed to me like skipping to the back of a book to see what happens. It was cheating. Bad form, as my father would say.
"Sometimes I feel this...presence...very close to me. It is neither god nor devil, but a mixture of both, or none. It feels very close to me tonight. It has felt close to me since we arrived here." I watched as Veronica's gave swept out into the darkness to search for the presence she sensed. "I think I am going to turn in early tonight. My heart feels very heavy and sad," she said, smiling a sweet, apologetic smile.
"Would you like for me to get Mr. James for you?" I had to stop myself from saying fetch him as we used to do. Veronica smiled very kindly at me and shook her head.
"Thank you," she said, and vanished inside, leaving me alone on the front porch swing. It had been quite some time since I had run into a human so out of Time. It made me sad. She was so young and so beautiful, but this was not her Time.
Vampires are always bringing up references to time, I've noticed. The past is always present with us, just as much as the present. Many become historians because of it, or actors. Yes, it is a cover, but it goes much deeper than that. We keep the good parts of ourselves alive that way. If we're lucky we don't become the monsters of legend by remembering the good about our past life, or lives. Unlike humans, we are continually forced to reinvent ourselves.
I wish I could tell you the continuous reinvention was a good thing, but it isn't on a whole, not for us. Just when you are content with the person you have created, you have to change, give it all away so people don't discover your secret. It is difficult to keep going, keep changing and coming up with different people to become every fifty or sixty years or so. If you let yourself remain one person for longer, humans become suspicious. Humans age. Vampires don't.
The watch in my vest pocket chimed at the fifteen minutes of ten. Its sound startled me from my own deep, ponderous thoughts. While Veronica had been outside Time had seeming stopped.
Something tickled down my spine. I didn't enjoy it.
There was a taste of malice in the air. It was bold. New. Hungry.
Perhaps it was just a cat I was picking up, or a hungry dog? I knew it wasn't vampire or werewolf (yes, they really do exist). My body reacted to it calling forth the fangs and claws which rarely came out.
Was it something Veronica had, perhaps, brought with her? Edward perhaps?
I let my mind roll out toward it. It was intangibly tangible. Just as I almost touched its full mind, it vanished.
By M. Davenport
I sat beside her for perhaps almost a minute in our cooperative silence before my curiosity wrung the question that was burning on my mind, "May I ask why you asked me something so...metaphysical?"
I did not want to be rude, yet, at the same time, I was most curious. Of course I could have invaded her mind, but what fun would that have been? That always seemed to me like skipping to the back of a book to see what happens. It was cheating. Bad form, as my father would say.
"Sometimes I feel this...presence...very close to me. It is neither god nor devil, but a mixture of both, or none. It feels very close to me tonight. It has felt close to me since we arrived here." I watched as Veronica's gave swept out into the darkness to search for the presence she sensed. "I think I am going to turn in early tonight. My heart feels very heavy and sad," she said, smiling a sweet, apologetic smile.
"Would you like for me to get Mr. James for you?" I had to stop myself from saying fetch him as we used to do. Veronica smiled very kindly at me and shook her head.
"Thank you," she said, and vanished inside, leaving me alone on the front porch swing. It had been quite some time since I had run into a human so out of Time. It made me sad. She was so young and so beautiful, but this was not her Time.
Vampires are always bringing up references to time, I've noticed. The past is always present with us, just as much as the present. Many become historians because of it, or actors. Yes, it is a cover, but it goes much deeper than that. We keep the good parts of ourselves alive that way. If we're lucky we don't become the monsters of legend by remembering the good about our past life, or lives. Unlike humans, we are continually forced to reinvent ourselves.
I wish I could tell you the continuous reinvention was a good thing, but it isn't on a whole, not for us. Just when you are content with the person you have created, you have to change, give it all away so people don't discover your secret. It is difficult to keep going, keep changing and coming up with different people to become every fifty or sixty years or so. If you let yourself remain one person for longer, humans become suspicious. Humans age. Vampires don't.
The watch in my vest pocket chimed at the fifteen minutes of ten. Its sound startled me from my own deep, ponderous thoughts. While Veronica had been outside Time had seeming stopped.
Something tickled down my spine. I didn't enjoy it.
There was a taste of malice in the air. It was bold. New. Hungry.
Perhaps it was just a cat I was picking up, or a hungry dog? I knew it wasn't vampire or werewolf (yes, they really do exist). My body reacted to it calling forth the fangs and claws which rarely came out.
Was it something Veronica had, perhaps, brought with her? Edward perhaps?
I let my mind roll out toward it. It was intangibly tangible. Just as I almost touched its full mind, it vanished.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
I Am SO Doomed
It feels like it - I am doomed. I am doomed to have wonderful ideas and start writing upon them and within two weeks I am sick. I don't mean a wee bit of ill that you can use as an excuse to keep from going into work for a day or from doing the dishes or cooking for a day. No. I get sick where I am laying in the bed and wondering quite seriously if I am going to make it out of bed EVER again. (Yes, the caps are quite necessary.)
Yesterday there was deep hope in this heart of mine that The Sickness had vanished, or was soon close to being so, and then, all of a sudden, today, The Sickness has turned into something that needs a different name. A name that makes you cringe at the thought of having it like "the black death" or "the plague" or something from the Medieval era where you aren't assured you are going to survive.
Verbose? Hyperbole? Too much? Over exaggeration? *sigh*
Maybe.
Tomorrow I am hoping things will be better, and, in turn, I will be better and life can proceed on a far more pleasant note.
-- The Editor
Yesterday there was deep hope in this heart of mine that The Sickness had vanished, or was soon close to being so, and then, all of a sudden, today, The Sickness has turned into something that needs a different name. A name that makes you cringe at the thought of having it like "the black death" or "the plague" or something from the Medieval era where you aren't assured you are going to survive.
Verbose? Hyperbole? Too much? Over exaggeration? *sigh*
Maybe.
Tomorrow I am hoping things will be better, and, in turn, I will be better and life can proceed on a far more pleasant note.
-- The Editor
Monday, September 11, 2006
Maybe I'm Just Being Morbid, But This Interested Me and I Thought I Would Share
(You know how I get sometimes in September.)
Archaeologists find 2,500-year-old mummy in Mongolia, tattoos and all...from PhysOrg.com
An international group of archaeologists has unearthed a well-preserved, 2,500-year-old mummy frozen in the snowcapped mountains of Mongolia complete with blond hair, tattoos and a felt hat.
[...]
Poetry
XLVI
A death-blow is a life-blow to some
Who, till they died, did not alive become;
Who, had they lived, had died, but when
They died, vitality begun.
-- Emily Dickinson
A death-blow is a life-blow to some
Who, till they died, did not alive become;
Who, had they lived, had died, but when
They died, vitality begun.
-- Emily Dickinson
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Thinking about my friend
Hi all. Cheyenne here again.
The Editor asked me to make a post for today, since she has been laid up and a bit sick for the last little bit. She's over it now, aside from a sore throat, but she won't be at the house much today. So, you get me instead.
Which I know is a thrilling prospect for you.
The other day, while we were talking a bit, we hit upon one reason why we get along so well, a facet of our friendship that neither of us had ever considered before. Beyond being each other's shoulder to cry on, beyond being contemporaries, beyond being fellow Orthodox Christians, beyond considering ourselves siblings, we are writing buddies – and while that is something that could probably be argued that we should have already known, it only just dawned on us the other day.
As statements go it is exceedingly true. We talk about stories and poems we've written or that we are thinking about, we read pieces to each other, and we provide honest commentary on what we hear or read, beyond the simple 'like it / don't like it' reactions. We talk on occasion about writing itself, and we share thoughts that we find about writing made by other authors and writers on the Internet. We suggest books to read and music to write by, we shore up each other's confidence, and we point out things we are doing wrong.
Some of this we kind of take for granted in a way. When we write a new story or a particularly good poem – or one that we aren't sure works – we can just assume that the other will listen and comment on it. It's something of a given. I give her stories a quick editorial read, looking for odd word choices, weird spelling, strange grammar, and any sort of point in the overall plot that I think I could fit a decent sized truck through – and she does the same for me. We both bring different things to the picnic – The Editor, for instance, has more practice looking at things from a literature student's perspective than I do, and she can analyze and divine meaning better than I can (for now, at least) – but that's the beauty of the whole thing. We're two distinct people, of two distinct minds, with two distinct wells of experience to draw upon when we write and when we read, but somehow, when it comes right down to it – we're both on the same wavelength when it comes to words and writing.
And like good buddies of any stripe, we have a friendly competition or two going. So far, she has more raw submission attempts than I do, but I have more published work than she does. Who's winning?
I say we both are.
The Editor asked me to make a post for today, since she has been laid up and a bit sick for the last little bit. She's over it now, aside from a sore throat, but she won't be at the house much today. So, you get me instead.
Which I know is a thrilling prospect for you.
The other day, while we were talking a bit, we hit upon one reason why we get along so well, a facet of our friendship that neither of us had ever considered before. Beyond being each other's shoulder to cry on, beyond being contemporaries, beyond being fellow Orthodox Christians, beyond considering ourselves siblings, we are writing buddies – and while that is something that could probably be argued that we should have already known, it only just dawned on us the other day.
As statements go it is exceedingly true. We talk about stories and poems we've written or that we are thinking about, we read pieces to each other, and we provide honest commentary on what we hear or read, beyond the simple 'like it / don't like it' reactions. We talk on occasion about writing itself, and we share thoughts that we find about writing made by other authors and writers on the Internet. We suggest books to read and music to write by, we shore up each other's confidence, and we point out things we are doing wrong.
Some of this we kind of take for granted in a way. When we write a new story or a particularly good poem – or one that we aren't sure works – we can just assume that the other will listen and comment on it. It's something of a given. I give her stories a quick editorial read, looking for odd word choices, weird spelling, strange grammar, and any sort of point in the overall plot that I think I could fit a decent sized truck through – and she does the same for me. We both bring different things to the picnic – The Editor, for instance, has more practice looking at things from a literature student's perspective than I do, and she can analyze and divine meaning better than I can (for now, at least) – but that's the beauty of the whole thing. We're two distinct people, of two distinct minds, with two distinct wells of experience to draw upon when we write and when we read, but somehow, when it comes right down to it – we're both on the same wavelength when it comes to words and writing.
And like good buddies of any stripe, we have a friendly competition or two going. So far, she has more raw submission attempts than I do, but I have more published work than she does. Who's winning?
I say we both are.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
No, You Have NOT Been Forgotten!
Things have just been C-R-A-Z-Y of late so nothing has been on schedule here, or elsewhere in my life. Luckily, it is looking as if things are going to be far more on track than they otherwise would have because my dear hubby has secured a wonderful new job! I am so excited with and for him! He deserves this and I know he is going to do a wonderful job!
"The Sleepy Hollow Inn" should be up on Monday, at the very latest. I have been swamped with emails about it, and I must admit I can't wait to get the next two installments up myself!
OK, back to the hecticness of life.
"The Sleepy Hollow Inn" should be up on Monday, at the very latest. I have been swamped with emails about it, and I must admit I can't wait to get the next two installments up myself!
OK, back to the hecticness of life.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Preparing for Mayhem
The Rifts game is tonight and, I must admit, I am a little stoked. I have had two weeks to plot and plan for tonight's campaign, and I have planned well. My GM Mentor has given two thumbs up and a gree light!
Monday, September 04, 2006
Poetry
Beyond
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2006 by H.A. Handy
Life moves forward
Snails pace
Rockets force
Always pushing forward
Sometimes ghosts hold us back
Yet through it all we keep moving
Not here, never here
Never one place for a while
Always
Beyond
By H.A. Handy
Copyright (c) 2006 by H.A. Handy
Life moves forward
Snails pace
Rockets force
Always pushing forward
Sometimes ghosts hold us back
Yet through it all we keep moving
Not here, never here
Never one place for a while
Always
Beyond
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Diary Dear
Things are up in the air and falling all around like brittle fall leaves piled high and then letting a four year old have at it. Don't know how long it is going to take me...us...to get the leaves piled up again and back in order, but we'll do it.
This has been very much a quiet weekend compared to a hectic and very confusing week. What all has happened?
-- We over-drafted at the bank. This is quite easy to do when you have a husband who simply refuses to stub a check or report his spending, and you still have to pay bills and buy groceries and keep life going.
-- Became full-fledged volunteers for the local chapter of the Arthritis Foundation. This is something I have really wanted to do for a very long time. Now I just need to finish my first project, which is going to be somewhat difficult in a way because I am going to have to go to the library almost every day for use of a computer and internet service. But this will let me get the current Writing Project back on track.
-- Hubby sprained his ankle and is being extremely macho about it. Not much to explain there.
-- Internet service going to be almost impossible for a while because of financial difficulties. This does NOT make me happy, but there is little else I can do about it. However, I am bound and determined to keep the installments for "The Sleepy Hollow Inn" up and everything else. This may require some assistance from Cheyenne though.
All in all I am settling in for the next section of fighting to just keep having a life. Do you know what this means? Life moves on and you just have to roll with it.
This has been very much a quiet weekend compared to a hectic and very confusing week. What all has happened?
-- We over-drafted at the bank. This is quite easy to do when you have a husband who simply refuses to stub a check or report his spending, and you still have to pay bills and buy groceries and keep life going.
-- Became full-fledged volunteers for the local chapter of the Arthritis Foundation. This is something I have really wanted to do for a very long time. Now I just need to finish my first project, which is going to be somewhat difficult in a way because I am going to have to go to the library almost every day for use of a computer and internet service. But this will let me get the current Writing Project back on track.
-- Hubby sprained his ankle and is being extremely macho about it. Not much to explain there.
-- Internet service going to be almost impossible for a while because of financial difficulties. This does NOT make me happy, but there is little else I can do about it. However, I am bound and determined to keep the installments for "The Sleepy Hollow Inn" up and everything else. This may require some assistance from Cheyenne though.
All in all I am settling in for the next section of fighting to just keep having a life. Do you know what this means? Life moves on and you just have to roll with it.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Time to Duck and Cover
Financial troubles are hitting. Internet connectivity is going to be spotty for a while. More as Internet service permits.
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