BftP: choker of pearls.

| Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Oh hai, old poem.

***

Choker of pearls
white, round, perfect
as she is
lips scarlet and dress
flows past hips and ivory legs

choker of pearls
mouth of pearls
hair of mahogany
eyes of emerald
lips of ruby-amethyst
tongue of air.

She is the loveliest ornament
castrated half-man
of quiet breath and downcast eyes
delicate servant to
superiority and strength
lies of the snake
wrung out of her mind
with a wring of her wrist
long ago.

She is placed
prized ivory and diamond
chess piece of a revered set
admired, beheld
frozen beneath glass.

progress.

| Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Baby steps, right?

So, what have I been up to? Honestly, reading and playing a lot of WoW. Sigh. BUT, I have also been brainstorming my NaNo idea, AND I entered two, yes, TWO! contests this month. Namely Stuart Neville's Ghosts of Belfast Twitter contest and Writtenwyrdd's Spec Horror contest. Plush Chtulhu, how could I say no? Which means I have written at least one short fiction piece and a whole bunch of microfiction nibbles. I've also joined a local writer's meet-up. Go me, I should get a cookie!

I'm thinking that after the contests are over, I'll post my entries here to shock and awe everyone. OoOoOoOoOoOo.

NaNo is almost here. I'm a little excited, a little freaked out, and more than a little dubious. BRING IT ON, NOVEMBER.

holy... unholy, rather.

| Friday, October 16, 2009
I should be writing.

But instead I'm boggling over things like this.

My brain may have fractured.

I am still outlining and writing notes for NaNoWriMo, though, I SWEAR.

BftP: Alice isn't here.

| Monday, October 5, 2009
Yet another poem from my youth. My youth being approximately four years ago.

***

My name is Alice.
This is not who I am.

My fingertips taste of ash
75,624 cigarette drags
pulled through a berry-stained mouth

the smoke curls off my tongue
my face is veiled.

My name is Alice.
This is not who I am.

I wear mirrored sunglasses indoors
sip pale liquor from a cracked tumbler
the half-there ice clinks as I move

my eyes are hazel flecked with gold
but you’ll never know it.

My name is Alice.
This is not who I am.

I am sometimes lost
behind smoky curls, thick and soft
my lips will brush you neck as I whisper

and I will make you my last
impatiently tapping my chipped nail on the bar.

My name is Alice.
This is not who I am.

NaNoWriMo plotting.

| Thursday, October 1, 2009
What is it about creating outlines and timelines and notes that makes me feel like an 18-year old in Biology 101? Ack.

I'm debating how much actual research I should put into this book idea. I want it to sound realistic, but I don't want to get so bogged down in facts that I'm going "MY TIMELINE IS COMPLETELY SCREWED BECAUSE X EVENT DIDN'T HAPPEN UNTIL 1893." I'm writing paranormal YA fiction, not historical! Yet, I am massively anal.

Learning experience, right? I'll research. If I end up scrapping half of it and pretending it's an alternate universe, so be it. I can always go back later and double-check my facts. You know, remove or fix passages where someone would go *SNORT* THAT TOTALLY DIDN'T HAPPEN UNTIL 1893.

Just gotta get it down on paper. That should be my grammatically incorrect mantra.

To-do list check:

Write in blog? Check.
Continue to flesh out NaNoWriMo idea? Check.
 

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