Afraid it’s a bit stream-of-consciousness this week, my lovelies. I’m enjoying having virtually nothing to do, before I start an internship next week. (Well, “enjoying”. I am one of those people who needs a fairly firm schedule if I’m to get anything done. I’ve set one up for myself, kind of, but it’s not all that useful.) The steel-toed boots are broken in, and I’m off to the bike shop tomorrow to pick up a decent commuter (I hope), and work off a bit of tummy going to and from the place of work.
Some very neat stuff is going on with writing. I have come up with a notion for a story that requires me to do real, live, formal research. See, I haaaaate doing research, which maybe is why I write a lot of contemporary and SF, because I am cranky and lazy like that. (Also, this is still firmly in ‘hobby’, not ‘job’ for me, and while I love the actual act of researching, because I must do it constantly for my course a wee break to play in a fantastical world is pretty neat.) This research, I should mention, is on the following: various venereal diseases, the layout, culture and housing in London in about 1862 (Holborn in particular), and kink and homosexuality in London at aforesaid time. Everything but the venereal disease has been really fun so far! The VD occasioned a rather lively trip through Wikipedia, and never say I don’t suffer for you. I am warily excited; I have a very bad habit of writing the first thirty pages of a novel and then wandering off for parts unknown. I think I may have written the end of the book though, or very near the end. It is a scene featuring a hand-carved ivory dildo, because I’m a classy gal like that. Those of you who encouraged me to write historical should be careful what you wish for 😛
One thing that I’ve also experimented with (in addition to the non-lazy research and writing scenes out of order, go me) is writing in longhand. The last story I wrote in longhand…well, actually, it was only a few months ago, during an achingly boring lecture, but before that, I honestly think I was in about third grade. But I dashed off a great short story while at Hay, so I’m trying to continue it. It’s going brilliantly; although I can type faster than I write, the computer just honestly has way too many distractions. But I can go out to my garden (I have squash blossoms! You’d think I’d given birth, as happy as I am!) with my little notebook, and just fall into the story. I love it.
I read other people’s journals, and wonder if, soon, I have to start taking this a bit more seriously. And then I wonder why. And then I get over myself, stop navel-gazing, and take my writing lessons where and when I can, in what ways that I can 🙂 I think I am getting better, so I am content for now. And, hey, anyone want to beta-read a short SF story in a few days?
PS, yes, I did watch the round-ball game. For 90 minutes, I was fiercely patriotic. It was odd. And I still like rugby miles better.