Okay, so there’s this woman I’ve been “friends” with on social media for about eleven years now. She’s single, close to thirty years old, still living with her parents and hating it, looking for a job, and basically spending her life living off her art and playing video games. She’s a character and a half and I soooo want to write her.
But I’m not sure I can. You see, she has a particular ailment that she’s extremely sensitive about, that is so much a part of who she is that I can’t write it out of her. So if I write a novel and use her, even though it’s fiction, I’m sure she’ll see it to be herself. The novel, even though she is the protagonist, will not be very flattering as she herself has a rather distasteful personality. What to do…
I know! Isabella Morgan may just become an author.
Isabella Morgan has officially been alive for one year. Funny, I don’t feel a day less than 25.
I think about updating this blog every so often, but strangely I can never think of a thing to say when I get here. I intend to hang on to it though. Never know when I’m going to want to lash out over something that I can’t express, using my real name.
Anyhoo, I’m not saying anything here either, other than that I’m amazed it’s been a year. Maybe I should make a resolution to come back here every so often and post what I’m really thinking. Which is usually along the lines of, WHAT THE FUCK?
The title of this post is a comment I got on my Facebook author page tonight from a strange man. I’m reminding myself that this is why I have the safeguards in place. No address, no contact info that isn’t general, no listing in the phone book… It’s also why I have this blog, so I can talk about these things openly without it showing up on my author page.
Have you ever had someone try to teach you something but they won’t let you do it yourself? I find this so annoying. The best way to learn something is to give it a hands-on try. Especially when it comes to computer stuff. It takes me several successful attempts at something to retain most things I do on many programs and sites.
I do understand from the perspective of the teacher that it’s faster to do it yourself, but why are you bothering to teach it if you don’t want the student to learn it? It all comes down to the same thing: if you’re gonna do something, do it right.
what good does it do
this time of year
to remember you, but i do
the gifts i gave you
the birthday of an ex-lover
but what i remember most
are the gifts you gave me
silk skin and song
hard gentle touch and beauty
and oh, how you pushed my limits
just to disappear with a titanium kiss
we drifted apart, didn’t we?
there was no sharp split
just a space, a hole
where you once filled my life
and other parts of me
each year, this time
i think of you and wonder
if you ever think of me
for you were un spectacle,
and in many ways, i was your first
and i will never stop thanking my lucky stars
that you were once my lover
Yesterday I joined the politest Facebook group ever. It’s a genre-specific book-lover’s group; in an older post, one of the members was complaining about the growing number of mistakes she’s been finding of late in e-books. To quote:
The amount of spelling and grammer errors lately are really bugging me. It’s like they don’t even have editors to correct their spelling and grammer or something.
Now I’m not one to make fun of people but it was difficult to stay away from this completely – no one in the group pointed out her glaring irony. Maybe there is hope for humanity after all – or maybe I just fucked that up.
Are you ever so stunned by the things people do – so taken off-guard – that you don’t say anything?
Yesterday I went to the grocery store to buy some of my favourite pasta and arugula salad from the deli counter. I stood there being ignored for a while by the two ladies behind the counter and was about to give up when a young guy in a baseball cap and t-shirt, with nothing to indicate that he worked there, walked behind the glass-fronted display and asked me if he could help me. Since the ladies didn’t kick him out, I assumed he did in fact work there so I asked for a medium. He scooped my salad into the container with a plastic serving spoon, which was all fine, but then when he saw there were bits of arugula hanging over the side, he shoved them in with his bare hand and put the lid on.
And I didn’t say anything.
Now as I sit here enjoying my questionably diseased salad I feel as though the time has come to get my word in edgewise…
If I turn up dead of the plague, you’ll know who to blame.
Am I cheating by posting a SoCS post here? Maybe. But you see I’m not ready to come back. Not quite. I did say that I would take a month off from blogging and that month is almost over. What I wasn’t expecting was the freedom to do other things while I wasn’t blogging. At least not this much freedom.
I’m within a hundred pages of the end of my sixth edit on my novel. I’ll go back and work on the first third of it after this and then re-write the first two chapters and I’m done. It’ll be off to publishers and agents.
As much as I want to come back to blogging, I’m hesitant to let go of my focus on my novel. So close to the end… so close to seeing it in print. I’m standing at the precipice, my arms are like helicopter blades spinning – okay helicopters on their sides. Helicopters crashing. That’s not good, is it?