Crickets, one of my best and closest friends (and one of your number) has created a truly awesome "trailer" for the movie of Nightchild that might someday be made. It's inspiring to me. It really makes me hope that I haven't been wasting all of my time after all.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-r85Y6hQs8



(This is not news to most of you whose pictures appear on the left - I believe you've already been burdened with my geekitude on other social network sites.)

Well, that's all for now... I'm off to continue dancing the Apocalypso with my new imaginary friends in Not Named...

Good afternoon, Crickets! I hope you're all doing well in your respective silent spaces, and that the approach of the holidays on little clawed monster feet isn't giving you conniptions. I've been working on Not Named and trying to avoid being sickly, which if you know me is a fairly constant battle. In the process, I have done a great deal of research, chucked the concept of NaNoWriMo, and learned to stop worrying and love the bomb.

The bomb in question is, of course, my Illustrious So-Called Career, which really does deserve those capital letters. I'm going to give it my all, which means that these updates from me might be coming few and far between. Now, now, Crickets, don't chirp... it will be all right. With luck, I'll come out on the other side of the Long Silence (I'm fairly obsessed with capital letters today - curious) with a brand new Something for you to read, if you're so inclined. I'm pleased with the little baby steppies Not Named is taking, so my hopes are high.

Incidentally, a co-worker at my day job informed me that my writing was the equivalent to other people collecting bottles. I was offended, then I was amused, and now I think I shall just refer to the process of writing as "bottle collecting". That approach annoys my friend Big Cat, but sometimes these things can't be helped.

One last comment before I go soft into that good writing corner: Tristan has taken on all of the characteristics of a bad boyfriend. He drives me insane when I'm trying to spend time with him, takes me completely for granted and mistreats me until I throw him out. As soon as my attention is drawn to a nice, cooperative new friend like Not Named, he comes crawling back, armed with pretty words and a promise to make it work out this time, really. Shall I take him back, Crickets?

Nah. Boyfriend has to work for it this time. ;)

Okay, Crickets, here's the thing. This is November, time of National Novel Writing Month. Naturally, I entered into the month with the highest of hopes of having this event spur me to finish Knight of Sorrows. No dice. If anything, it put me more into a tailspin. The subsequent navel-gazing, however, has been beneficial, and I think I've realized part of the problem with the projects that have been failing of late.

I need to stop talking about the writing and just write it.

Seems pretty simple, doesn't it? It's quite the opposite, sadly. I always want to talk about my ideas, and tell people about this cool new scene in my head, and moan when my characters don't do what I want them to do. I can't do that. I need to keep it to myself, I think, so that the only outlet for all of my scattered enthusiasm is the page.

To that end, I will say only that I have begun a new project. It's not one any of you know anything about. I'll let you know when it's done... or if it is.

I'll send you dispatches from the front as I'm able, but don't expect details. Loose lips sink ships, dear ones, as you know.

So... shutting up. Carry on.

Revelations

Revelation the first (and I needed to have this explained): Rejection of my writing is not the same as rejection of me as a person.


I've always felt that my writing = me, and vice versa, and that if people didn't want to read my writing, they were saying through action that they didn't give a good God damn about me as a person. After a long conversation with my friend Big Cat yesterday, I've come to accept that perhaps this is not the case. It's still hard to believe that when people have no interest in supporting my writing career, that doesn't mean that they have no interest in me as a human being. It'll take some time until I accept this to be true... if it ever happens.

Revelation the second: Knight of Sorrows is henceforth to be known as "Book Not Appearing on the Bookshelf," or B-Nab.

This is the most damnable project, and the one I've had the most damnable time with. I cannot seem to coax it into being. It's something I want to write, very much, but for some reason it's harder to do than pulling teeth by way of the left kidney. I have never had this much trouble with anything I've ever tried to write. In the words of Commodus in Gladiator, it vexes me. I'm very vexed.

As a result, B-Nab has been sent to the orphanage for a few more weeks/months/years. We'll see if it shows up again.

Revelation the third: Just because B-Nab is more or less dead to me, that doesn't mean that NaNoWriMo can't happen.

I haven't officially joined up, but it's sort of a personal goal to see if I can get something book-length written in one month. Big Cat indicated that I should focus on something other than B-Nab and vampires, because she doesn't think people want to read about vampires that aren't all teen-angst and sparkly, and because B-Nab is giving me fits. (I just had the mental image of Tristan in full armor rapping in a nightclub. Hee!) I think she's probably right. To that end, I am taking one of the stories in my short story collection, "Tell Me No Lies," and expanding it. We'll see where it goes and whether this can be my NaNoWriMo accomplishment.

And thus endeth this reading from Revelations.