Monday: Writer's block and nothing to do in the office; lots of boredom-induced headaches.

Over the weekend, I finished a 30-page story for The Unmentionables, the gaslight-gallows series of short fiction that I've been working on (I'll be doing an explanatory post on the series soon, I promise). It's the 3rd story in the series, and this one was not only the longest and most complex, it also took the least amount of time (about three weeks from start to finish, compared with 11 months for the second story and roughly five years for the first one). IT DRAINED ME OF ALL WILL TO LIVE. However, in spite of my body and my brain telling me to take a week off and recharge the energy banks, I still tried to write something during my biweekly Nothing Monday. And failed. EPICALLY.

Tuesday-Thursday
Personal misunderstandings (TOTALLY MY FAULT) and fallout; lots of crying-induced headaches.

No point in going into this. It's over, it's done with. Suffice to say I had three days of utter emoness, misery, and unexpectedly dissolving into floods of tears at random moments. Also, I think it was in this lump of days that Zen (my wee blue Acer) decided to mysteriously die. We suspect CPU fan issues that are totally, totally unrelated to me knocking it off a table. Totally.

Friday (the 13th, incidentally)
Phone coverage in the main Communications office and then got rear-ended on the highway on the way home; lots of moron-induced headaches.

The day itself? Wasn't that bad, actually. The phones were a lot quieter than I'd expected and I did actually get some writing done. I just hate being upstairs because the spare desk has no back and I have a neurosis about people walking up behind me or being in my blind spots.

And the car accident... wasn't, really. It was rush-hour, every else was slowing down, just that the dude behind me didn't slow down fast enough. He gave me a jolt and took the paint off the rear bumper. Then he drove off. Douche. But it could've been a helluva lot worse, as he was driving a mini-monster truck

So yeah, last week was entirely comprised of thirteenth-ness.

This week has been marginally better, I suppose. I had Monday off, and cooked and baked all day. Om nom apple pie/applesauce/potato soup/homemade rye bread nom. Tuesday, though...

I work in the graphic design unit as a professional gopher. My actual title is "Administrative Assistant," but I prefer 'Professional Gopher,' or perhaps 'Spare Set of Hands.' I proof-read and I run copies--occasionally tedious and boring, but at least I'm absolved of the clerical side of things. I do a lot of printing.

When I came in on Tuesday, I had a POUS (Print Order of Unusual Size), amounting to over 17,000 copies, many of them larger than 8"x11". And it had to be filled by Friday. And because Gov. Paterson has demanded that NYS offices make really stupid budget cuts that don't do a goddamn thing, I was running out of toner. And paper.

Well, I did it. Even with a dentist appointment that just skirted the edge of root canal and more Novocaine than any human should be able to withstand without losing all motor function, I did it. In the end, I went through 6 toner cartridges and a total of 20,000 sheets of paper (due to miscommunication about which publications were needed). I feel like I need to make a donation to Save the Rainforest or something.

So my jaw hurts, I haven't written anything in nearly two weeks, and I've helped contribute to the continuing deforestation of the planet. Smegging lovely.

Also, today is my husband l_loire's 24th birthday... HAPPY BIRFDAY! *glomps*

Oy, Nostalgia Chick fans! Guess what?!!?!? BFF Nella's got her own review show!

Agent Anachronism from E.V.E.N. reporting for duty! For reasons too dark and time-consuming to mention here (and inspired by my work with the Nostalgia Chick over at That Guy With the Glasses), it is my job to debrief you on the cultural entertainment and phenomena of the Retro Age (i.e. 1950-1975).

My first mission: An overview of the hit 1960's spy show, "The Man from U.N.C.L.E."!

Part One:



Part Two:



Feedback--as ever--is appreciated, and is considered to be a vital tool in the fight against the O.D.D.

http://agentanachronism.dreamwidth.org/

http://twitter.com/Nellachronism

(I got to preview this thing in post-production, and lemme tell ya: It's good!)

EDIT: Thanks to a donated token, the writing journal has now been renamed kickshaws. To the donator: THANK YOU!!!!!

This is a Public Service Announcement. I would like to—

Goddamnit, why is it that whenever I decide to stop doing something or take something down, the universe invariably throws it up into my face that I really shouldn't?

I finally make up my mind to take down everything I've got stored over at FF.net, and then I find reviews in my email begging me to finish the giant V for Vendetta story that I abandoned years ago (it's not going to get finished, but I think by now all you V fans have learned to love me for myself). I decide to delete my fanfic LJ, and the next damn day a friend mentions that journal on a comm, potentially driving traffic to a collection that's only going to be there for another couple of months, tops.

*grumble* Feckin' universe...

Anyway, yes, this is a PSA, letting everyone know that I'll be deleting both my FF.net account and my fanfic journal graphiteslog sometime within the next two months, preparatory to opening my new website.

The new site will be my professional homepage. I'll be offering monthly short stories for PDF download from Lulu.com (it looks like they'll be costing about two bucks per download), the occasional longer piece, and some freebies. There will also be news and artwork from my upcoming projects. The site should go live sometime in December, with downloads to begin in January 2010. I hope to see you all there!

My writing journal will remain active. I do use the thing, after all. However, it may be undergoing a name change in the near future, something a little less project-specific, but that'll have to wait until I've got the $15 for a name change. (If anyone would like to donate a name change token, I will not object. I have no pride whatsoever.)

I'm not doing anything special for Halloween, but in honour of the modern version of the holiday, here's a gift from the vaults: from the dawn of horror hosts, I present to you Zacherley: The Cool Ghoul. Happy Halloween!

I'm currently researching self-publishing options with an eye to putting up some stuff for sale in January of 2010, and I'm curious as to who here would actually be willing to pay money to read something that I wrote. Please comment below with your responses.

Please note: arclayn, 6wolves1spirit, giftofgalliard, l_loire and kilinka do NOT need to respond to this post. I already know what your answers are. ;)

Robots + Nathanial Hawthorne references = LOVE!



Questionable Content: Nathanial Hawthorne

Woke up at 6 am this morning in the dark and in the cold thank you very much Real Job. Opened my email and thought, "Oh, an email from Scribophile (a really awesome and helpful online writing/critiquing site that all budding writer-type people should give a try). I bet they're telling me who won the Computer Love Contest that I entered last month. Oh, and they sent me a gift as a consolation prize for not winning, that's sweet of them." So without actually bothering to open the emails, I go over to Scribophile and WHAT THE F@#% I WON THIRD PLACE?! With all those other so much better entries to chose from, my crappy little contribution about gay human/robot love won third place? Holy hell.

But it r trufax:

3rd place: Patience by April French
An incredibly tender love story with excellent characterization and dialog. The quiet emotional power of this piece really stuck with us, and April managed to make the characters extremely believable and relatable in just 3000 words.

And the prize they sent me? This wee bronze trophy.


Ain't it cute?

So in honor of my small win, and in thanks to the gods of Internet who make all things possible, here's the story (you can also read it at Scribophile; no need to have an account).

(Tero had never wanted a robot partner. He'd also never asked what the robot wanted. )

Thoughts, comments, flowers, chocolates... promises you don't intend to keep... Please to be leaving. :)

Today began as one of those "I shoulda stood in bed" days. Had a horrible dream last night, woke up every hour on the hour from 11 pm to 6 am, left the apartment without eating breakfast, put up with the pissy husband on the way to work (he was cold, tired and hungry--I swear, he's worse than a teething infant sometimes), forgot my wallet, and then was 45 minutes late because there was a crack-up on the ramp into the toll plaza (right by the landfill. There should really be a sign there: "Welcome to Albany, capital of New York State. PEW.").

But after that, the day wasn't so bad. My boss is on vacation til Monday, and I've pretty much finished all the work she left me. Since I'm basically her assistant and no one else uses me unless they need printing done, I had a lot of free time on my hands. Updated the writing LJ again, and got a nice shout-out about the linkspam from blythechild (thanks Blythe!), so I spent part of the day following the comments to her entry and answering the ones to mine. The rest was spent ripping CDs. Might as well take advantage of the lull while I can, things will probably hit the fan when The Captain gets back.

Also, this year is beginning to remind me of the 'seasons' segment of Monty Python and The Holy Grail: "...winter changed into spring, spring changed into summer, summer changed back into winter, and winter gave spring and summer a miss and went straight on into autumn." Yeah, that. We had about 2 weeks of summer, then suddenly it was fall over night, and now we've just been handed two 35 degree days. And it's only mid-October. What the hell? Of course, I know what this means will be next...

Locusts.

For those of you playing the home game, kickshaws is my more or less professional LJ, where I blog about writing-related woes, current projects, and other sundries. Yes, it's true: I'm a writer.

Me: "Hi, my name is April, and I'm a writer."
Internets: "Hi, April."

So please friend my writing journal, follow me on Twitter ('afwkickshaws' for the important writing stuff, 'kiwimouse' for the day-to-day nonsense), comment and whatnot, and in the tradition of the great Best Brains, "keep circulating the tapes." (Last night's status post here.)

This morning's post is on the subject of curvy girls and comic books, of which I am one. A curvy girl, that is. If I was a comic book, there would be a pointy-ear blue-skinned mutant in my future. Alas.

It says something about society at large that even a large woman like me has to do a double-take when she sees a comic book character who's not skinny in spandex.

...Pass this post around. Cross-post, retweet, whatever. Add your own perspectives, whether they be on comic books, on curvy women, or on beauty. For my part, I feel better about my chubby robot already.

This is a hot-potato sort of topic, and I know plenty of other people have blogged about it, particularly the fantastic person whose name escapes me over at Girls Read Comics, but that's no excuse for me to keep my mouth shut. If you have something to say on this topic, say it! Link people to the original post, cross-post, retweet, keep the ball rolling, keep the talk talking.

So, I'm all married an' stuff now. In fact, I've been married for 1 week, 2 days and 23-1/2 hours. Not that I'm keeping track or anything.

It was (cliche in 3... 2... 1...) a lovely ceremony--and short. Brian and I got exactly what we wanted, a non-religious ceremony that was personal and touching and wrenched tears from everybody's eyes. And we got our handfasting! (And for those in the know, yes, I did eventually find shoes.) Then there were pictures and dinner and dessert and more dessert and talking until midnight. Our families got along smashingly (my dad and Brian's step-father are totally BFFs now), my cake was delish, we were showered with money, all was well and all was well and all manner of things were well. Except...

One of the gifts I got from my father (via my godfather) was a virulent head-cold that laid me low for nearly a week, hence this belated post. That, combined with Brian's Atlas-like workload from school, conspired to nix our annual Columbus Day trip to Cape Cod, which was sad-making. But we still got a four-day weekend. No complaints there.

( Okay, pictures!!! )

Apologies for the crappy picture quality; the photographer was kinda the one getting married.

Last but somewhat more than least, kickshaws has been updated. Read, digest, comment.

I had a very detailed dream last night about a House-related LJ comm, which may or may not exist (I've never heard mention of one, but it wouldn't surprise me). Basically, the comm existed to allow fans of the show to post anonymous medical-profession-related wank, in the safety of a fandom setting. Example: you get shafted by your doctor (who just won't believe you have lupus). You come to the comm and post a nasty letter addressed to Dr. House, or Dr. Wilson or Foreman or whoever's working at Princeton-Plainsboro these days (I haven't kept up). And there would be a related comm for people in medical-related fields to post patient!wank. I dreamt up the names but now I've forgotten them. :(

So if anyone out there wants to go form a comm for doctor/patient!wank under the safe guise of House, then you go right ahead.

The Nostalgia Critic tackles a question for our times: which is the better movie, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory with Gene Wilder, or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with Johnny Depp?



Trufax: when I was very small, I wanted to marry Willy Wonka. And funnily enough, Brian is probably only a purple velvet tailcoat and a brown topper away from being the man of my sweet innocent childhood dreams. And he loves chocolate. <3

Title courtesy of my boss-lady, whom I lovingly refer to as The Captain, mainly for her unmatched capacity for treating the Graphics Dept like a sinking ship: get the women and children into the boats, save the valuables, and go down with the ship.

( Some work stupid. )

( I had no idea Bengali script was so pretty. )

I may have to pacify her with chocolate. She likes chocolate. She brought brownies into work this morning, and originally I was frightened--boss lady giving away her chocolate can only mean that the end of the world is nigh. But it was a false alarm; just someone's birthday. Pretty good brownies too, although I could have done without the blueberries she put in them. Do not contaminate my chocolate with fruit/my fruit with chocolate. Unless they're strawberries. I make many exceptions for chocolate-covered strawberries.

Avon: A Terrible Aspect should be arriving in the mail in the next day or two. I look forward to reading it and then praying that Paul Darrow sticks to his large ham day job.

My brain is ded.

Work, school, wedding crap, and trying to do serious work on a novel for the first time in years.

My gray matter is so scrambled, I could serve it up with bacon for breakfast tomorrow.

This is a true story.

My dad has a friend whose son is a Federal Marshal or whatever. So Mr. Fed is flying across country to visit his father, and like every other poor soul who boards a plane nowadays, he has to go through security. He's carrying a loaded pistol, an extra clip, and a pair of handcuffs on his person. This does not faze security, because he is a Federal Marshal and has a license to carry the weapon.

He does not have a license for the just-barely-over-the-limit bottle of Visene... which they confiscate and lock up.

Head, meet Desk, Wall, and Plate Glass Window.

Is it wrong that one of my deeply sought-after goals in life is to write a book upon which will be based a movie that will then be mocked by Rifftrax/ThatGuyWithTheGlasses/Nostalgia Chick/Cleolinda?

Discuss.

EDIT: Wow, I must not have been clear about this at all! Both here and on FB, people are assuming that I think this is a bad thing.

So I shall clarify: I WANT to be mocked by these people! Parody is a fantastic mode of creative expression, and if I've written something that gets the shit razzed out of it, it means that my work has made an impact, for good or ill, in someone's life--and what could any artist want more than that aside from a nice fat paycheck?

Publicist: Patric Swayze Dies at 57

*digs out the Dirty Dancing soundtrack*

Now I have to ask... who's next?

Huckabee says 2 states in Holy Land 'unrealistic'

'"The question is should the Palestinians have a place to call their own? Yes, I have no problem with that. Should it be in the middle of the Jewish homeland? That's what I think has to be honestly assessed as virtually unrealistic."'

No sir, what is unrealistic is to assume that those of the Jewish faith have sole and unalienable claim to Isreal--which, have we forgotten, was actually Palestine before the Allies carved it up following World War II?

'The politician, a Southern Baptist preacher and a two-time former governor of Arkansas, praised Israel for giving Muslims access to Jerusalem's Dome of the Rock — also the site of the ancient Jewish temples — even though the presence of a mosque there "could be considered an affront."'

*headdeskdeskdesk*

All right, Mr. Preacher-Type Person.

Jerusalem is the home of three faiths, including your own--and don't forget, the Christians tried for nearly a millenium to take Jerusalem from the Muslims by force, and in the end, lost horribly. The goal is to end conflict in the Holy Land, not start another war by encouraging one religion to play grabby hands and try to keep for themselves what they should be sharing with others.