Land of the Living

No, I didn't forget about this page. Yes, I am lazy. Done.

Anyway!

I haven't (surprisingly) died in the epic, epic amounts of snow currently coating the UK. Long may it continue, by the way. I have, in fact, been out enjoying myself like the closet five-year-old I really am.

Fanfiction is a bit, um, surprising right now. As in, two more and there'll be a hundred. Whoops. Not entirely sure how that happened. Oh, wait, yeah. My Star Trek geekery, that's how. *shoots self*

Original is also finally picking up again. Mostly Stardawn. Which is still topping my own record for the most character deaths in one work - just a warning. I have managed to get a little more of Our Last Summer done as well, but it's difficult to write teenage sexuality angst when you didn't have any. (Seriously, beginning to think I'm the only well-adjusted LGBTQ person out there. It's pissing me off. Please tell me I'm not alone with this being a normal human being thing.)

Probably am. Shit.

Also: I have joined FanStory.com to learn how to write short stories without wanting to beat myself to death. I probably won't put longer works of fiction up but you never know. I said I wouldn't use fictionpress but something turned up there regardless.

Also, I finally was sat down to watch Firefly the other week. Can someone explain to me why all my well-trusted nerdy friends thought it was epic? 'Cause I'm missing something there.

Summerend Post

Why hello there.

After a (not so) gorgeous summer (Britain lived up to its usual standards) I have returned.

As far as original work goes, I've been slacking, I'm afraid. Fanfiction, on the other hand, is doing nicely - or at least South Park is. I must be in a humorous mood of late. Although, admittedly, Stardawn has suddenly acquired chapters.

I'm having difficulty typing because my hands are numb, so this post is going to be short.

I'm spending the next year doing some heavy-duty volunteering, as well as the second year of my degree and Chinese lessons. For the love of whatever you happen to believe in, don't expect my fanfiction or original fiction to be pouring off the screen. It won't be.

Also, I'm getting tattooed on Tuesday. Anyone south of Inverness, north of Birmingham, and between the Atlantic and the North Sea: you might be lucky enough to hear me screaming.

(I checked. I don't lose my mancard for admitting that this is going to hurt like hell.)

Three and a Half Months

Well, my first year exams are over. Whether I've done well or not remains to be seen, but they are over and, with them, my first year of university.

How scary is that?

So now I have three and a half months to bend to my will. June is a loss for the writing, as I'll be going to Greece for a week with friends, and probably getting drunk until then to celebrate the end of the year with other friends.

But July, August and the first half of September?

They may be a different story.

I am hoping to bring Our Last Summer to a complete first draft, though that may be a little ambitious. I want to get a proper start on The Nephilim and Night Ghosts as well, though they will certainly not approach completion this summer. Not even close.

I would like to return to Postscript, but we'll see how that goes.

Regardless, I will be keeping myself busy. It seems that my friends have designs on exploring various gay scenes and gay prides throughout the country (and who am I to say no?) which will have me all over the place. Hopefully, money permitting, I will also travel to Barcelona for a few days with yet more friends. And then, of course, is the matter of driving licenses, various summer qualification courses, and language learning.

There's definitely something a little wrong with me.

Sola Fide, Sola Scriptura

'Our Last Summer' is 18,000 words and rising. Shoot me. Right the fuck now.

In other news, and weirder news, I was inspired by God today.

This is no joke, and, for me, it bloody well should be.

I am an atheist. I have always been an atheist, I will most likely always be an atheist. I have never seen the point in a God, or a Saviour, or an afterlife, or religion. We are born, we live, and we die. It is of little important to me - and moreover it is illogical to me - to ponder that our Creator might be watching.

But today, I found a use for the Holy Bible. And that is to pour forth stories (most likely blasphemous ones) upon the heathen ground.

I happened upon a reference to the second fall of angels from Heaven - one that was a transgression worse than Lucifer's. This was a shock to me. My father's family are Catholics, and so I have - naturally - been taught that Lucifer is All The Bad.

Well, sort of.

I have discovered the Nephilim, in the books of Genesis, Jude, Peter and Isaiah. And quite frankly, if blatant mockery of religion in general happens to offend thee, I would suggest that you stop reading soon.

Because it's coming.

The First Summer

I am a genius, because I have finished all my coursework ahead of the deadline. How many of my uni mates can say that? None, that's how many. As yet. And it's due in two days.

And now I will return to writing, as much as I ever left it. In four days, I wrote 11,000 words of a new story called 'Our Last Summer', exploring the development over three years of the relationship between teenagers Ryan Anderson and Alex Bexley. The pace is experimentally slow but, if my two main betae for this are any judges, the experiment is working. Though it is astonishingly easy writing dialogue between them, considering that it is an accomplishment for Alex to contribute more than twenty words to any conversation.

Currently, I am writing for one university magazine and editing for another. I am also taking up language modules next year in German or French. Probably German, but course fees and timetable permitting, of course.

And all of this permitting that I pass my exams in May and June. And then I am free of work for the next three and a half months.

What am I supposed to do with myself?

Work and Play

So at the moment, the focus is - necessarily - on my degree. Internships, placements, all this sort of nice stuff. And making my department obey what I say. For anyone who hasn't gone to university yet, believe me when I say you have to approach them to get any feedback whatsoever.

On the plus side, the assignments are actually vaguely interesting.

What I'm hoping to do is get a placement over the summer, to work and earn a little money here and there. All for pumping up the old Curriculum Vitae. What I'm also hoping is the publishing house will take on 'The Fallen' so I can begin to scrape at least a few pennies towards paying off my debt.

On the writing side at the moment, there is not a great deal. I really should get myself back to Substance Dualism and get it moving, but to be honest, that might be what happens over the summer regardless of work. Otherwise three months stuck in the dull little southern town that my parents currently reside in...well, it's not going to be fun.

Perhaps I should learn to ride a motorbike this summer.

Irony Just Isn't Funny Any More

I'm exhausted.

Finished the editing and sent it back, by the way, but that's nothing to do with it.

No, the exhaustion is from the next idea(s). Stardawn is a kind of standby progression because holy hell, that's going to be a saga and a half. I'll be lucky if I don't end up with a character for every letter of the alphabet. Likewise, Substance Dualism is a slow-go area because that is one of those things that I will be still writing and adding to when I'm ninety and decrepit (?) and in a nursing home with a pretty attendant feeding me apricot yoghurt.

Yeah, I know, we all have dreams.

But then there's Postscript.

Postscript is its new name. Originally, Postscript was Substance Dualism. Yes, confusing. Don't worry, it gets worse.

Postscript is a supernatural story...in which you see no supernatural creatures whatsoever. The ones alluded to aren't even particularly out-of-this-world. None of this sparkly vampire crap, cheers.

Ghosts. Ordinary, boring, cello-playing (not kidding) ghosts.

Nothing big about that.

And yet I managed to write, according to Nicky, the most powerfully emotional scene of my career to date, in Postscript.

Go figure.

Pessimism

Okay. So I was told that if I do some basic editing on my book, I have a decent chance of being in for a contract for the sucker.

Well, hell, that's a very nice offer, and as the editing is phraseology and grammer, I'm totally okay with that.

But then...it's editing.

Ever gone through 150+ pages of fiction, that you slammed out inside of three months, and edited out words like 'had', 'was' and the dreaded 'as connector'?

It's a living HELL.

Not only am I now firmly convinced that my writing is shoddy and there's no way that they'll take it on even though the editing will be complete, but my eyes are falling out of my head from staring at the screen so long, and my pizza-and-pop diet is going to give me heart failure before I ever find out if I get the contract.

This, kids, is why writing is not a sensible career choice.

Never mind that I am also a university student. I have a dual degree flowing here. And my seminar tutor doesn't accept any of this 'it's only first year' stuff either. I have British politics to analyse (in light of the political economy since 1945) by tomorrow.

I now realise why so few people make it as authors. By the time they get anything, they're in a mental asylum and the government takes the cheque for them.

Be smart. Do a business management degree and work for a consulting firm for the rest of your existence.

Terms and Conditions

Well, here we go.



The reason I have constructed a blog? So I can outpour to the unseeing world that which my friends get ticked off with me for outpouring. Any of you know any writers in real life? Yeah, we're annoying little sods, aren't we?



Anyway, this is basically so I can ramble, at length, about what's going on in the constructions and destructions of my original fiction. If you want to stalk it, be my guest; hopefully, you'll eventually be paying my internet bills. Or food. Whichever's more important.



What you can do? Whatever the hell you like, more or less. You want to ignore me, that's dandy. You want to comment? That's dandy too. You want to read at length about what my mind is creating out here in the wilderness that is "t'Nort'"? You're quite mad. But welcome: so am I.



What I write has little to no continuity. I bounce from project to project most of the time. Most of the constructions here will be character designs, as I find these the most challenging to do without outpouring to someone and, quite frankly, I think my flatmates are on the verge of strangling me to get me to shut up.



As, by now, are you. Most likely.



Any work feedback appreciated. Any validation of my existence also appreciated, but I'm not a dualist, so I can't doubt I exist in the first place.



Have fun with that one, folks.