November 2002

November 3rd

I know I promised to keep gaming-twittering to a minimum - but I'm also known for being lousy about promises made to myself. Suffice it to say that perhaps I returned to CAST a little too soon, and need some more time away from the group to restore my perspective and decide if LARPing is really worth my time, these days - particularly Vampire LARPing.

Okay, I'm done

***

Writing kvetches.

Good things: I finally got started on Weddings Are Murder. I've resolved the nagging POV issue that was grinding on me. As soon as I sat down and actually started writing, the proper perspective made itself apparent almost immediately. Third person, limited omniscience it is.

The rest: Now that I've started, I'm even more convinced that the story isn't ready to be written, yet. I'm torn between returning to the half-baked outline and working on it some more, or just abandoning the project for the meantime and going on to do something more fun - like that 007 fanfic I keep talking about.

Of course, the 'fun' project has the same problems as the 'supposedly serious' project - ie, a half-baked outline - but I don't feel at all guilty about plotting-as-I-go for a fanfic. But fanfic falls under the 'popcorn' category, as far as I'm concerned - even if it's historically themed, homage-intended popcorn - and I want to get away from that, darnit!

The possibility that popcorn is all I've got in me has crossed my mind. A cheerful thought, that ain't.

But, I'm also heading into the Lousy Time of The Month, so I'm aware that Mr. Bad Self Esteem is on the ascendant. The best thing to do is to just keep at it, and bang away on the keyboard for as long as it takes to break through the funk. But I've not got a history of doing The Best Thing, or even the Smartest... Story of my life.

 
November 7th

What a fun month it is when my period decides to start twelve days after the last one ended. No wonder my state of mind has been going to hell. Premenstrual histrionics were at a minimum this month - I'll take these small mercies where I can find them - although the constant application of hot water bottles to a sore stomach and prescription strength painkillers to a sore head might have ameliorated matters, somewhat. For a change, my crippling GI nastiness only lasted about four hours - instead of forty-eight. The monthly migraine tried to make up for the slack, but I deserved that for my stubborn insistence upon eating crappy food, despite the fact that I knew I was vulnerable to nastier-than-usual side effects of having chocolate for breakfast and lunch.

As usual, I'm my own worst enemy.

***

Howfore the writing? Don't ask. This week, between a couple of desultory interviews, aforementioned Surprise Period (when I find out which menstruating female dumped all her pheromones on me, we are going to Have Words) and generally pissy state of mind, I've got barely 500 words written and no serious intention of going any further. I stare at the keyboard and freeze up. What a delightful situation for somebody who used to consider writing preferable to eating and bathing regularly. Okay, so I'm cleaner and somewhat better-fed than I was before, but I'm willing to trade off a shower every other day for a few hours' productive word-bashing. It was stupid of me to think I could even try NaNoWriMo. I'm sure I'll tinker with the idea from time to time, but I don't recommend that any of my readers hold their breath.

***

I'm undergoing my monthly fit of 'throw out everything and start over!'. This time, however, a little progress is being made. Alex has agreed to let me go through the kitchen and get rid of our excess goods. We have our wedding china and perfectly nice mugs and glasses. We don't need the bachelor-lifestyle mishmash of unmatched plates and chipped cups that Alex has been hoarding against the great kitchenware famine. We certainly don't need that tat his ex-wife bought. She and I are both brunette Brits, but that's where our similarities end. Every now and then, Alex stumbles across some bit of junk of hers that has somehow survived several moves, and it usually renders me speechless. I can't believe I'm married to a man who would marry a woman who would buy this stuff. If it had a dolphin, cherub or gnome on it, she would buy it.

Oh, I can see it now... Twenty years on, Alex's next wife is saying "Didn't this Johanna woman buy anything with any color or form? Did she suffer monochromatic vision or was she just trying to recreate the showroom at Scandinavian Designs?" - and I, being a nasty little poltergeist, will respond by hurling a bottle of black nail polish at her head.

October 2002          December 2002