NaNoWriMo - Day 1

Well, it's that time of year.... there's a chill in the air, holidays around the corner, a book to write....

This year, I will be attempting to participate in National Novel Writing Month. There's an idea at play. How good it is remains to be seen.

Hopefully, I will keep with the writing.

::fingers crossed::

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

Traveling Back to the Border

Wow.... I'm so excited, I think my inner fan girl just had a Bordergasm (credit to Ellen Kushner for that phrase!).

A long time ago, in a state far away, I began playing online text-based Role-playing games (RPGs). Through a network of fellow players, I made new friends. One of them introduced me to an anthology series. Life on the Border introduced me to a new world of possibilities.

What would happen if the land of Faerie came back to the real world one day? How would the world react? How would misplaced, misunderstood teenagers view access to those lands?

Because I was still a teen at the time (barely), and I was going through some of the requisite changes from childhood to adulthood, this book struck a chord with me. I subsequently borrowed Bordertown and Borderland, reading them in the span of a few hours apiece.

My online RPG buddies, who all had fallen in love with Bordertown, wanted to bring a taste of that world to others. One of my friends sent an email to Terri Windling, requesting permission for our variation of "fan fic". Happily, we were given permission.

Most of our group had a mainstay character that we played online. These characters were fairly well-known in our little community, and they were friendly, approachable sorts. We agreed, rather quickly, that we needed to introduce a little something wicked into the Nexus we inhabited.

A fringe group of The Bloods, those lovely and cold Elvin folk, made it through a portal into the gaming realm. They entered the bars, brokered deals, made money, looked damn hot in some red leather, and generally proved that they were up to no good.

Writing for my Blood characters vastly increased my author's skill-set. In addition to the chat-room style gaming play, we created Forum boards, where the stories played out in paragraphs (and sometimes pages) at a time. The next couple of years provided a great creative outlet.

When The Essential Bordertown was set to be published, I heard tales of a pre-launch party, occurring in L.A. Viewing the website provided information on an art show to take place with other festivities. With a bit of hope (and crossed fingers), I sent a few of my sketches off to be considered. I had drawn a few of my Blood ladies, as well as some other fantasy-based sketches. To my delight (and immense surprise), the sketches were accepted.

I had an office job at the time, and did not have available vacation time. So, in what I look back on as a bout of insanity, I set up the shortest cross-country trip possible (ahh, to be young again).

I scheduled a flight from Manchester to LAX, arriving on Saturday afternoon. The return flight left LAX between 5 and 6 am on Sunday morning, getting me back to the East Coast by late afternoon. I think I was gone about 32 hours or so.

Because the party was not starting until Saturday night, and I was on a budget, I took transportation straight to the party location, to see if there was anything I could do to pass the time. I was able to help the lovely folk set up for the party. As an added bonus, they let me stash my bag while I was helping them.

There was live music, there was dancing, and there were costumes! My sketches looked (to me anyway) a little small and pitiful on their green wall in the Mock Avenue Art Gallery. Still, they tied into some of the themes for the night, and it was fun, and new, and exciting!

I was able to get a copy of Bone Dancer signed by the lovely Emma Bull. I also was able to pick up a fresh copy of Elsewhere for Will Shetterly to sign. The two of them were very nice people. After the party was over, and things had calmed, they took the time to have an informal Q and A with some of their fans. Even though I was excited by this, I was nodding on my feet from sheer exhaustion.

One of the lovely folk who worked so hard to set up the event offered me a ride to the airport, so I could save my taxi money (Yes yes, I know. Dangerous strange men. He was a truly nice man, and I generally do avoid rides from strangers.).

Walking through the security checkpoint at LAX was fun. I think the rivets in my jeans made the metal detector angry. Honestly, I think the whole airport was a bit angry. I was treated to a security scan pretty much on par with our post-9/11 TSA standards, and this was several years beforehand.

Bordertown has been an important part of my adult life. It helped shape me as a writer. It provided the most insane weekend trip EVER. Also, it gave me hours of reading pleasure, and countless daydreams of what a world would be like, with just a little Faerie in it.

Over the past couple of weeks, I had shared some of these stories about Bordertown with my friends. I laughed, I sighed, and I waxed nostalgic.

Then I heard some very wonderful news. Bordertown lives!

A new anthology was released on May 24th, titled Welcome to the Border.

For those of you who would like some background and useful information, please visit the Bordertown website: http://bordertownseries.com/

If you decide to travel to Bordertown, please make sure to stop into The Dancing Ferret. The first beer is on the house!

A Tidbit

As I was searching through some old documents, I ran across this brief story opener.
....................................................................................................................

~Death, destruction, mayhem~

The concepts repeated, over and over. Screams from countless souls washed over her in waves. Panic. The screams splintered around her, leaving only silence. The body shadowed in the doorway and the raw burn in her throat indicated the screams had come only from her. Light flared, and she covered her eyes against the stinging blindness that accompanied it.

“Kitten, what’s got your tail in a fluff?”

“Daddy?”

Her voice came out husky, but little girl scared. The shadows receded as the body moved forward. His presence sheltered, comforted. Big, solid, and smelling of bay rum, his arms curled around her shoulders, rocked her against him. The reality of his protection, his love, blocked the horror of the nightmares. She cuddled against him, soaking up his warmth and realness.

Navigating the Stormy Seas

So I was having a discussion with one of my friends today. We were talking about dating, and flirting.

I found myself revisiting an example I had provided previously, that covered my feelings on the whole situation of being flirted with.

I never assume that anyone is interested in me. This is just my mental state regarding the existence of the universe around me. It doesn't matter if I jammed on a ballcap and am wearing ratty jeans and a decade old t-shirt, or if I spent two hours pinching, primping, plucking, and lacing before I walked out the door. Under the clothes, behind the makeup, and below the hair, I'm just me.

That doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me. However, my compartmentalization of myself includes friend, confidant, teacher, student, listener, and occasional goofball. Femme fatale never dials up on that when I go out into the Great Wide World.

So when I go out to a bar, venue, event, etc... there are times I will spend in conversation with males. For all my shadowed social anxieties, I am fairly decent at small talk. Usually, I walk away from these conversations thinking "well, so-and-so was such a nice person". Months (sometimes years) later, I will find out that the guy was interested in me.

So, I have come to a major truth about myself. The only kind of initial flirting that I understand is the the kind that comes with a brick. Applied liberally.

I realize that sounds horribly violent, but it's also obvious. I mean, you don't smack someone with a brick on accident. And hell, it leaves a mark. There is no doubt about your intentions. You can't go back and say "No no, that was totally ambiguous. I mean, I DID hit you with that brick, but you had a mosquito on your shirt and I was just trying to help you out with that."

For me, flirting has to operate on much the same level before something in my brain wakes up and goes "Oooh wait, that was flirting! Cool!" or alternatively "Oh My God, that was flirting, how many exits are there and how far away?"

I can think of a specific example of this. Long long ago, in a ..... well no, it was the same city, so we'll cut that short. Several years back, I kept running into a person through a group of mutual friends. We chatted sometimes at these gatherings, and were friendly enough. I thought that he might be interested in me, but could never decide.

The most obvious and direct route is to just ask the person if they are interested. Yes, I know that. Yes, that is what I would advise anyone who was telling me about a similar situation. No, I seriously doubt I'm going to start the direct route at this point in my life.

I just tangented myself. Awesome. I'm not even sure that was a real word, but I'm also pretty sure I don't care.

So for months the situation went on in a sort of holding pattern. See cute boy at events. Talk to said boy. Leave party. Rinse and repeat.

Finally, we ended up at another venue. We'd been standing around next to each other for a while. People were milling around us on all sides. The lighting was low, and the music was pulsing. We were standing in that body-to-body pose required when talking to someone in a club. The one where you look like you are trying to crawl into someone's head through their ear, and they can still only hear every other word you just said. For a moment he just looked at me, and then he leaned down and kissed me. On the mouth.

The kind of kiss that doesn't say: "I like you". The one that says "Hi, I *like* you. If you aren't using that mouth, could I borrow it for the next week?".

That is a brick. Ogling my chest and asking me if I'll go to bed with you is also a brick; however, it is not likely to have the desired results.

Confucius Confusion in Backtranslation

So apparently several of my comments are getting hijacked by Asian porn sites. Truly awesome. In an attempt to seem slightly more "legit", these posters are including bits of text. Some are advertisements for the porn sites. Others are proverbs, adages, or generalized statements.

As the vast majority of the comments were written in Chinese, I originally gave them the benefit of the doubt, and figured they were foreign posters who were supportive of my rantings. Nothing so fail as a blogger full of ego, right?

I went to Babelfish and translated some of these sayings from Chinese to English. I figured that I might lose some of the accuracy in translation, but could at least get a gist of the material. I have included some of the comments, backtranslated for my own viewing pleasure.

Confuseus says:

The human wants to learn to make a camel first, then can make a lion.

The world confusion, is the advantage toward; The world bright bright, all comes for the advantage.

The such superior tribe standard must certainly continue!

In each person life possibly runs into the honored person, these honored people not necessarily really honored, he is possibly the stranger, is also possibly your enemy.

The world has not taken the road which does not pass, could not have overcome the difficulty, has not hit the enemy who does not defeat.

Does not have the friendship, life He Le?

Each time looked your article, always the aftertaste for a long time, must publish frequently.

The human has a two tongue, is to observe time in the speech reason.

Mature, has ability to adapt in the life fuzziness.

Reads your BLOG article, is really a joyful matter!

A person's spell of good or bad fortune in first time is always most profound, sometimes will let person's heart turn the forever 絕 reason.

The sea gull must soar, must draw back far first. The nectar must be mellow, must for a long time ferment first.

Including receives with dies these two land bridge is the love.

We can give mutually the best gift is “the sincerity concern”.

All properties, when is not forgiven, has become the debt.



As an end note, the comments that include links to what are, presumably, porn sites will be deleted. Only real comments need apply.

Happy Birthday, Happy Deathday

So today was a bit hectic.

One of my ex-boyfriends contacted me a couple of days ago. His mother had died earlier in the week. Because I am still friends with this ex, and I was fond of his mother, I decided to attend the funeral.

For a Catholic mass it went fairly well. I did have to fight a few childish urges. The priest, possibly nearing retirement age, or at least in the first stages of CRS (Can't Remember S***), kept messing up the deceased's name. Last tally, three mix-ups. I may have stopped paying attention in order to lessen the annoyance. I know he stopped correcting himself for making the errors.

Honestly, we all make mistakes. Hell (oops, heck!), I'm bad with names myself. I guess on some level, I want to feel that those honoring her life, by speaking at her last church attendance, at least know *who* they are talking about. I may be a lapsed Catholic, but I respect that others have faith in both God and the organized religion.

This was the first time I had been in a church in years. It was a fairly nice place of worship. There was a sense of restfulness and peace to it. Not like those (pardon the pun) soulless religious buildings, the ones that have all the personality of a Burgers-R-Us.

I skipped the graveside service, as I was loathe to get lost in the city on a Saturday afternoon. Actually, I'm pretty much against being lost in cities in general. It makes me cranky.

Following a reception of family and friends at the deceased's home, I extended my stay to dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. It was nice to spend time with some people I hadn't seen in quite a while. Nicer still to hear familiar banter.

During the meal, there were two separate birthday parties. It struck me as slightly surreal to be surrounded by the celebration of life, when I had so recently participated in the celebration of death.

I say celebration because that should be a part of the funeral day. Yes, sadness and a sense of loss should be part of the agenda. But in those last moments, when saying goodbye, we remember what was good about knowing that person. What they shared with us, what we learned.

There is a comfort in the ceremony of death. The rituals we uphold. The dead are gone, but we are not. Instead, we rejoice in friends, grieve for loss, and remain.... as always.... complex.

A Mission for the New Decade

Welcome to 2010!

In an effort to embrace some of those pesky "resolution" thingies, I am working to set up a writing critique with one of my friends. Bi-weekly meeting set ups, and 1,000 word minimum new content per session.

Hopefully, this will prod me back into writing regularly. Not the academic-minded stuff that normally consumes my weeks, but those goofy ideas that percolate in the back of my head.