railenthe: (Default)

"I'm actually starting to get tired of looking at maps," Marlon said as he sipped his tea at the table. "I've been looking at them for so long that when I look at a blank wall, I see a map. Clear sky--there's a map on it. Still pool of water--maps. By now I bet I could fly over a city I've never seen before and make an accurate map of it without any mistakes just from that one flyover."
"That's actually a useful skill, Marly," Ainu said, sprawled out over a few cushions, the escorts that had been with him on either side. "You might want to practice that when you get the chance."
"I thought I told you not to call me Marly," Marlon said irritably.
"And I thought I told you to loosen up and join me one of these nights," Ainu said, "but we can't always have what we want, right?"
Marlon scoffed. "What are you thinking with?"
"I think you know the answer to that."

So far we've established:

  • Marlon HATES being called Marly
  • Ainu's a horndog
  • Cabin fever is a bitch
  • Ainu's so shameless his picture's next to the definition
  • And last but not least if it wasn't obvious the answer to that question is "his cock."
railenthe: (Default)


(Expletives Bowdlerized for your amusement today).

I stopped to do a word count last night and got a good look at the par numbers, and before I could do anything else I’d dropped a nice-sized “OH, GENTLY CARESS ME” bomb, staring at a deficit of ABOUT 12K WORDS.

I didn’t even have to think too hard about what the gently caress had happened since I already knew—it was the gawrsh-danged neuropathy, making it too hard to move or type on several days. So many behind days.

And then there’s work. We finally get hours out of nowhere and it’s like a gauntlet, and I have absolutely no idea how I’m supposed to deal with this level of exertion at the same time that my own dang body is trying to send me to heck in a bicycle basket.

So I’m buckling down for a WORD SPRINT today.

…as long as nothing goes wrong, such as dropping another gently caressing glass of coconut milk on the computer…

railenthe: (Default)

We are halfway through the month, and I am less than halfway through where I should be at this rate. I have fallen behind, thanks in no small part to the machinations of my peripheral neuropathy dealing incredible damage to my hands. But I've begun to see if I can get the catching up part of this done. I'm making a point of it to NOT have my word count total visible, as when I actually LOOK at the totals, I start to freak out. As of this writing right here...I have no idea how I am doing.


And now, back to the grind. I REALLY want to make it Four Times.

railenthe: (Default)
  • Reiluz stood in the middle of the Grand Temple of Yesodh Araya, its vibrance and shimmer drained. As he looked around, he noticed nothing unusual about anything else in the temple. This was also par for this particular dream. Acolytes moved about the grounds, aimless and faceless, just like what was normal for this particular dream. A crystalline statue of a Seraph-mark Illuminatus stood in the central dais of the temple, just like what was normal for this particular dream. As he watched the quicksilver crystal statue, there was a sharp sound—a ringing, almost musical crack of a noise—as the crystal began to fissure and break.

    This was not normal for this particular dream.

So, Da'ath's getting dark.


Also, pardon the Courier-esque font. I quoted direct from my draft and the formatting carried.

Have I decided who to kill yet?

…I'm sooooooooooooooooo not answering that. =D


railenthe: (Default)

I’m sitting here on the edge of my bed, glasses off, and half blind. Food is starting to make me feel sick as a dog, but that is because the only caffeine I have taken since validating my word count was the caffeine that woke me up from my ill stupor earlier—a head-cold has had me groggy, sick to my guts, and woozy most of the day. I don’t plan on taking more caffeine besides what’s in my medications and vitamins.

I’m reading a book that I downloaded from the Nook store almost immediately after finishing the validation count. It’s kind of a bookend moment—it’s the second book in the series that was the last thing I read for pleasure before the competition started. (In fact, here’s my review of that one.)

It feels good to be reading again, feeling the squee at the moments where I really notice how many scantily-clad pretty boys there are, the heat of the romance (surprisingly, in a het pairing), and the laugh-out-loud moments that are liberally sprinkled through Heroine Protagonist Rae Wilder’s journey.

I feel so good reading and I stop to think, then, that I hope that my own writing has the same effects on some readers out there. I know that there will invariably be the “I HATED THIS AND DIDN’T EVEN FINISH IT” sorts, but I know that there will be other readers who react as enthusiastically as I am now to this book that I am reading now.

I…am going to have one HELL of a time adjusting to the sudden reduction in caffeine intake. I spent most of this November neck-deep in either a bottle of energy drink (most of it Sodastream, half a litre at a time [?!]), an espresso, a restaurant coffee drink, or in a few cases a bottle of caffeine pills, violently throwing my way shoulders through in the long stretch of time that the ink was flying around. Several times I thought that I wouldn’t make it—there wasn’t enough time, there weren’t enough words, there wasn’t enough CAFFEINE—and then, working on a fight scene, validating the count after every few paragraphs…I win.

I make it.

I didn’t want to put my hands to a keyboard for the next few months. I didn’t even want to celebrate my victory—premature as it is, the story isn’t done, not by a long shot—and I didn’t want to look at WORDS.

…then I realized that I could read. I could read for fun.

Like everyone else.

I’m going to resume reading now, probably put together a bottle of plain seltzer because the caffeine withdrawal nausea is HELL right now…but diving into a story that another writer put together, pouring her effort, time, frustrations, and joy into it…I remember why I want to do this in the first place.

I’m going back to my reading, icing my aching head.

I can keep writing AFTER the caffeine withdrawal wears off.

railenthe: (Default)

Well, here we are at another Weekend Checkin for Nanowrimo. How’s things going, you ask?


I got to the point where the momentum seemed to swing to a clear stop. Shit started to hit the fan, and there was a nice tension, the kind of tension that builds when you’re reading a well-crafted love scene (just me?) and you that things can only go one way, and…wall. BIG FRAKING WALL.

I actually turned around and rejiggered the index cards, and I found the solution.

TL;DR version? For the sake of narrative flow and such, at least for Zero Draft, Lollipop Bite has become TWO volumes.

And the Louis patriarch? Cedric? Is not amused. A woman who works for him, a lady we know only as Wilkes so far, is…

Ohhh, man.

I don’t know if Lightning is this much of a deadpan snarker. Now granted, it’s a sort of foil that Cedric needs, since the entire Louis family tends to be kind of pie in the sky about things (Mmm, pie), and since things are getting DEADLY SERIOUS—but still.

I gotta bounce. Only 11k words left, and I need to sleep at some point.

Chrysanth WebStory What's your WebStory today?
railenthe: (AWESOMEFACE)

Sharon thought that the afternoon was complete: her homework done, errands run, a tall green tea in one hand. Notebooks sat on the outside patio table in a neat stack, and next to them were other books, mostly comics of various origin.

A crashing sound a few yards to the northwest got her attention—a crashing sound that was soon followed by a lot of cursing, Curious, she set her tea down and jogged in the direction of all the noise. The majority stopped rather quickly, however, ending with one loud, final-sounding thud.

“What in the…?”

The only sign that anything had happened were the bricks near one of the juniper shrubs. She looked at those bricks for a long time before checking the shrubbery.

It took her a while to realize that not all of the green in that shrub was shrubbery. A very familiar shock of green hair blended in quite well with the juniper debris.



Lowell seems to be having a bad day. ^^

railenthe: (Tired)

Well, it's going well for me. Lowell, on the other hand, is NOT amused: Under the cut )

Keep in mind that this is a zero draft! ...but also if you want to tell me what you think so far, feel free to. Sometimes, us inkslinging types need a little scritch behind the ears, just like our kittens do.

railenthe: (OMGyay)

I’m just saying…


I mean, I’ve done this thing before, but this is the first tine I noticed this particular milestone.


Hope no one’s superstitious!



railenthe: (Happy camper)
I'm calling it a break for now, because more caffeine right now isn't a good idea and I am beginning to get a kink in my shoulder.

But check this out. It's an excerpt from what I've got so far. Right now, all you need to know is: Brayden is eighteen. Lowell is sixteen. Both of them can be, like, twelve, sometimes.

Meet Lowell and his brother, Brayden… )

I love these two brothers.
railenthe: (AWESOMEFACE)

It is five minutes to midnight.

Five minutes to Nanowrimo.


*taps one caffeinated foot*

railenthe: (TEA)

It has become something of a tradition for me: sign up for NaNoWriMo. Have something happen. Fail to do a damn thing because of weird events happening.

Except when I didn’t fail.

Of course, there are people who don’t get it—“You’re not getting paid for this, right?” “You don’t really USE that every day, do you?” [in reference to last year’s price, a discount on Scrivener] “What’s the point?” Or the most infuriating of all: “This isn’t anything beyond a hobby. Why are you wasting your time?”

…yeah, have I mentioned I’m no longer dating that guy? OK.

The fact is, this thing is a sprint that helps me to remember what it is that I am doing. I like the competition because it lights a fire under my narrow arse and reminds me of the adage, ABW—Always Be Writing.

So the first bit of preparation has begun—outlining. I actually started this outline a little after the end of last year’s competition, but things have changed since then, and so I need to alter the projected trajectory. Things have steadily gotten darker, and I’ve been watching my voice and style form as I do this project. I’m rather pleased at where it is going.

I should get to sleep. Work won’t wait in the morning, now will it?
railenthe: (…that sounded wrong.)
[Poll #1797142]

So here’s a question:  who wants to see the product of me smashing my head against the keyboard this November?  I’m guessing it won’t be done directly at the end of November (though I fully intend to win), but I’m putting in the biggest effort to actually COME FROM FRICKEN BEHIND AND WIN THIS.


…you know something?  That sounded one hell of a lot less wrong in my head.


Anyone crazy enough to want to read this?
(I get enough ‘yes’ votes and I can try to make a coherent summary…and I do mean try because most of what’s going on is HOT PRIESTS HERESY EXPLODING CRAP OH HAI WALKING SHIRTLESS SCENE HEY LET’S GO KILL THAT GUY.)

railenthe: (*drool*)

You know, this year’s NaNoWriMo has had its ups and downs.  There was the week I spent a week behind.

There was the surprise that came from the redshirt hunter growing a sense of morality and PURE AWESOME.

There was the lecherous young silver-haired healer who had the nerve to hit on what basically boils down to this world’s pope.

There was the fight scene where a priest delivers both the mercy kill and a benediction over the dying man.

And now there’s this.  I almost feel guilty about what I did to this poor man.



railenthe: (Squee!)

Sitting down to sprint. Having just recovered from a SURPRISE POWER NAP (hadn’t intended on falling asleep. It was a good thing I set an alarm) my brain’s being incredibly random. How random we talking here?

  • Just before spending the last half-hour unconscious:  Ow my leg storms.
  • Alarm goes off the first time:  Dizzy snooze button now.
  • Second time: *didn’t wake up.  Out like a light.  Dreaming of a big temple full of vaulted ceilings, bunting-draped statues, and incredibly pretty priests.  One of them was giving me a tour of the place.  The music they’re playing in this temple is pretty.*
  • Third time:  Woke up, hit snooze, fell asleep immediately afterward.  Had the exact same dream again.  This time I notice that the temple is the Grand Temple from my novel.  It doesn’t occur to me to check to see of these people are Illuminati, though.
  • Fourth time:  Finally woke COMPLETELY up.  Hit “Dismiss" after listening to what the phone had set my alarm to.  Couldn’t help but smile.  Apparently having this on a loop fixed the GR ARG RAGE I had going today.  What was the alarm tone? 


  • Wondering if it’s too late to get stuff from the corner store.  Wind slinging HORIZONTAL RAIN and puddles deep enough to cover my non-waterproof canvas shoes suggest yes.
  • Consider making soda.  Decide I’m feeling too lazy and mix the two half-liters I have left for something that tastes like a cross between a Red Bull and a Piña Colada

The moral?

If I want to make the stress of the day go die in a violent fire and disappear into sparkles, I’ll put Song of Memory on loop when I sleep.  That was a thirty-minute nap and I’m more rested than I was after a full night of sleep.

Secondary Moral:  Apparently this song makes me dream of temples.

EDIT:  For some reason, El Jay seems to hate Flash objects today.  Replaced the widget with a direct link.

railenthe: (WTF?)

In a surprising turn of events, it turns out that I’ve been called off.  This makes Sunday, where we had that LOUSY ROTTEN SUMVA WHO IS APPARENTLY TRYING TO GET ME FIRED, a Monday that I actually did have off, Tuesday/Today, which I now have off, and tomorrow, Wednesday.  A four-day string off.  Slow season is in full swing.  I should treat this not as a snub from the money gods and as a vacation—


No!  I’m looking at this in exactly the WRONG way!  Graaaaaaaah!  *violent head shaking and frazzling of hair*

 In which I am heavily caffeinated and seeing strange but hot things. )

railenthe: (WTF?)

Progress as of this writing:  18,846/50000


I’ve fallen a bit behind.  After an EPIC WORD SPRINT at about one this morning, I’ve had to stop for sleep, food, and cleaning my glasses.  I think I’ve come down with a minor case of eye-strain.  Beiges blend together into whites and I can’t differentiate between the two.  In a demonstration of how bad it really is, I’m having less of a headache when I turn around and take my glasses OFF.


…but the contrast without them is godsawful, so back on they go…


I’m going to make more sprints.  Every half hour I aim for 500 words, take a fifteen-minute caffeine/protein breather, and then go for it again.


Which leans into:

Read more... )
railenthe: (Beat)

*Pops an Imitrex*

*eats a second bowl of ice cream doused in chocolate, toffee bits and almonds*


So I got this migraine, right, and it’s threatening to put a damper on my day off.  Of course the day off is in name only because I will be spending it doing cleaning and trying to write 8k words before the fifteenth to catch up to AVERAGE.  I’m online, but slow, and my brain’s working slowly where anything without an outline is concerned.


Now, to turn the baseline white display of Scrivener to a more head-friendly baby blue and resume the writing…


Nov. 9th, 2011 11:34 pm
railenthe: (Default)

So in a deliciously faily feat of fail, I decided to try and sprint again today.  But the stark white of the page pulsed at my eyes, making my head hurt.  Popped an Imitrex, and

 Wait for it— )

I found it.

Nov. 7th, 2011 12:06 am
railenthe: (OMGyay)
My muse.

I found it.

Scrolling through my iPod's playlists, I stumbled upon an impulse download: a symphonic rearrangement of Chrono Trigger's soundtrack from OC Remix.

Let's just say that the theme from the Black Omen is perfect for a heretic priest and his handler on the run from mercenaries who have discovered that their prey may be worth more dead than alive.

If you'll excuse me, I have a heretic priest to order to steal the show.

I ought to be asleep, but thi swill HAUNT ME until I finish it.

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