I’m a child progeny

In the Forest of the Night by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes was published in 1999, when Amelia was 15. My mom bought it for me, a  young writer, then 14, as a way of saying, look! People just like you are publishing.

Yeah. Except I wasn’t. Oh, but Amelia had a year on me, maybe I could write something real quick and I could be a prodigy too!

It didn’t put enormous pressure on me, this is no Mama Rose situation. But I have noticed an instinct to assume that anything done after a certain age is less remarkable than if done young. Oh, you wrote a book? That would be an achievement of a lifetime but you’re (*sucks in a breath*) 40 now? I guess it’s about time, huh?

It’s dumb. Oh you climbed Everest? Big whoop, were you the first? You ran a marathon but you didn’t win?

Try something hard next time

Loserrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

It’s validation based on meaningless metrics. In the case of the publishing world, with Forest of the Night and later the Eragon books, it smacks of an attempt to democratize the industry. It’s not hard to get published! Look, we’re letting KIDS do it. (*pats them on the head, sends them away*)

And it’s a bad excuse to hide behind because even if publishing young is better than publishing old (or “old”), that is infinitely better than not publishing at all.

Immortal Lovers

The problem with movies about separated lovers is they’re not long enough to make the anguish really palpable.

Also I'm not convinced they were in love to begin with but that's a completely different post

Atonement: Blah blah, just say the C-word again

So what I want is a short film about a guy working in an office, pushing paper, nothing special (except he works for some tech company that’s had some major breakthrough in medicine that extends your life but whatever, it’s super boring). He’ll go through a routine, chugging coffee, filing, riding the subway, getting groceries, normal stuff. But then he sees her, right there between the lemons and the oranges. And she sees him, and they run together for a passionate kiss.

And then it all happens again and again, faster and faster, over and over, forever.

Or maybe it goes back in time, throughout history, and shows how they’ve been doing this forever.

Writing this I realize I don’t know the reason what is keeping them apart. The point though, is the focus on the time apart, really stretching it out and making the longing the star of the show. I’d watch it.

Machine of Death

I toyed with the idea of submitting to Machine of Death, vol. 2. Played with, as in, wanted to, realized the due date was in two days, and went to see Harry Potter instead.

It wasn’t for lack of ideas. The macabre is totally my wheelhouse.

The premise is a machine that predicts how you will die, a premise startling similar to one I had on my own many many years ago that I sometimes take out and brush off for a while.

My first instinct was to go dark. The title of each piece has to be the machine’s prediction and I thought “old age.” Not that I would allow someone a full and happy life only to die surrounded by loved ones. No no, my character (male, as I tend to favor male protagonists, for whatever reason [I’m a girl]) would toil away their life for some windmill like dream because, hey!, gonna live a long time right? Which is super, until they get paralyzed, or get some horrible disease, and then a long life is no comfort at all.

THE LORD OF LA MANCHA

I am I, Don Quixote

I actually wrote a draft. But… why should anyone care? It was a premise with no Characters.

So how about write something nice? With characters people will like or actually care about?

And my next thought was “alone.” And my character turned into a girl (interesting my subconscious, interesting) who was dying of some disease and surrounded by loved ones for real this time. The idea was, we all die alone.

Some major problems: I know next to nothing about death. Well, nobody does, but I’ve been lucky enough to not encounter much of it in my life. Same for diseases, and I felt like a poser writing about leukemia when I know nothing of the horrors of disease like that. Lastly, my version of the afterlife owed way too much to Terry Pratchett, to the point where I almost wrote Death as speaking in all caps.

I still stand by the ideas, I think they’re solid, but I just couldn’t think of why anyone would care to read them. Which, I feel, is just a little bit crucial.

Links!

  • Machine of Death, volume 1 Buy it!
  • Wondermark, the comic by one of the creators of MoD Read it!

The Concept

I think blogs should have a theme, even if it’s a tenuous one, so here it is. The blog is a digitized version of my poor abandoned moleskine.

omg so empty...

I am a form worshiper. I will cling to dead-tree books until Amazon tells me I can’t anymore. I buy pretty pens but don’t use them so they never run out (don’t leave me!) and I love my moleskine. It’s so pretty! I’m not worthy to fill it in with my weird-ass story ideas and half-thoughts I don’t have it in me to commit to paper.

I’m not advertising a crap-fest here. Just that sometimes I feel that committing something to paper lessens the magic. That’s my own fault, of not being able to express myself clearly enough, so that’s the journey too. So I’ll share some things I’m thinking about, little story ideas, and maybe you’ll get inspired and write your own thing, that will probably be better. (Share them with me, unless they’re better, then I don’t want to know.)

Also, just like my moleskine usually winds up carrying shopping lists and phone numbers, I will veer off-topic and talk about books or movies for a while. Fair warning.

Links!