Happy Halloween

And in other parts of the state, Halloween has decided to dress up as Christmas this year. But here in Boston you can just barely tell there was a “snowstorm” this weekend. A few places actually did lose power, I hear, but that seems to be about it in terms of storm damage. And most of the snow has already melted.

Today I came up with an awesome costume idea. And it will have to wait until next year. I’m hoping I’ll have something to dress up for. (And the costume will be a secret until then because it will seem less cool once you’ve had time to get used to it.)

Mostly I’ve been celebrating Halloween with a pumpkin tart from Trader Joe’s and several seasonal movies. My Halloween movie picks this year: Repo! the Genetic Opera and Sweeney Todd. Horror musicals for the win! And today I’m watching Aaah! Zombies, which proves to be incredibly dumb but it is about zombies, anyway.

And here’s some scary reading for you! Heart Strings by Deva Jasheway

Most of my blog readers have probably already read this story. If that’s the case, read it again! Have Halloween nightmares!

That’s all for now. See you in November.

The F*&%#ing Flash Drive…

As you may have guessed, I still have not returned to anything resembling productivity when it comes to writing. (Or anything else, really, but let’s not go into that…) So, it’s going to be a while before I have any big posts, whether it be in publishing news or fiction longer than a few paragraphs. You don’t mind, do you?

I probably mentioned my lost flash drive in some previous post or other. Still isn’t found. This has been a hugely disheartening setback. I was nearly prepared, or preparing, to submit my mythology project, The Universe Through Their Mouths, to publishers, contests, and/or agents (have not yet decided if I want to pursue getting an agent). And now I’m brought back to the point of only having first drafts which need substantial work – which I have already done once – before I can send them out. Having spent so many hours and so much effort working on those stories already, I am so frustrated at the thought of doing it again that I haven’t started yet.

Not sure what else is on that flash drive and not saved anywhere else. I don’t think there was anything else quite so important. I hold two fervent hopes in my mind. 1) That I will, somehow, find this fucking flash drive again, and before I’ve had a chance to do my re-revising of those five stories. 2) That if someone came across that flash drive (presumably if they have and were planning to give it back, they would have already), they deleted my files. The thought of some random stranger having access to that stuff without my knowledge bothers me more than the thought of never getting the drive back.

The good news:

(You are now thinking, Thank god there’s good news. I don’t want to come read this blog just to hear this girl whine about her “misfortunes”)

The forty-five or so pages of my Sleeping Beauty retelling made it onto my external hard drive, so I haven’t lost that. Really good thing, too. That was just a breakdown in the making… And I have a feeling that I’ll be working on that soon.

I have also found that the file in which I typed up Beauty and the Beast is not lost. I’m on a fairy tale kick at the moment, so I’m likely to start working on revising that one. I think it has a good chance for getting published, and if I send it out and only come up with a bunch of rejections, I will be posting it on the blog. So, you will be able to read it. It’s a very different version of the story, pretty dark and rather poetical in the language. Is poetical actually a word? I’ve heard it used, but then, I’ve also heard “subliminable,” so you never know. If you happen to know for a fact whether “poetical” is a word, please comment.

I haven’t done any more work on Helen, for anyone who’s wondering, and am not likely to any time soon. That said, if you haven’t read the first two chapters, posted in several places on the blog, go ahead! All evidence so far would suggest you’ll like it.

Thanks for reading!

A Spot On My Vision

A red star formed in your eyes and burned through mine, leaving a spot on my vision. Your hands were cold and my skin ached for them. The touch of your fingers sent a white-hot shiver through my body. It ended too quickly, leaving me to wish for that touch again.

The “Coin” Jar

I keep a jar on a table in the corner of my room. Surrounding it are remnants of days that pass like tides, ebbing and flowing, leaving bits of debris.

The jar has no color, but it has a picture. A tree with bare branches reaching toward a sun that is not there. A tree with a gnarled  and weather-beaten trunk.

I tell people that it’s my coin jar, where I throw my loose change until it’s full, and then I take it and trade in my pennies and quarters for whatever cash they’ll fetch. Usually twenty dollars or so.

Really, that jar is where I keep old dreams. The ones I’m not using anymore. Whenever I give up on something I want, or decide that the glorious imagined moment will never happen, I open the colorless lid of my jar, and the dream drains from my heart. I barely feel a thing.

It would be nice if, one day, I could trade in all of those loose-change dreams to make another one happen. It would be nice, but every time I tip the top back to peer inside, the jar is still empty.