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happy endings?

if i haven't been writing about writing a lot lately, it's mostly because i've been having the damnedest time trying to finish things. for whatever reason, the last few months have been marked by creative ideas that simply do not seem to pan out when they get out of my head and onto the computer screen. and nothing is worse than thinking that your creative efforts are directed to the increase in volume of mediocre writing in the world.

it's not that i lack ideas (well, sometimes it is, but it's not a long-term disability), but rather i seem to lack complete stories, things that remain as vibrant when written as they seem in thought. and although i find that my best writing happens when i have a clear idea of where stories are going, i've been reverting to my school-era habit of simply writing down anything that comes to mind in the hopes that somehow, some day, i'll be able to connect the dots and turn six disconnected segments into a cohesive whole. weirder things have happened.

at the moment, though, my hard drive is becoming populated with scraps that have no home, which neither stand alone nor fit comfortably into some larger master plan. perhaps if i leave them to congregate there, i figure they will get to know each other and might come up with some ideas of their own as to how they could fit together.

strangely, this week i was able to finish something for the first time in a couple of months. it's short- even by the standards of someone who normally writes short stories- and it's a quirky little thing, personal enough that there are people to whom i would feel uncomfortable showing it. now that it's "out there", at least in a first draft, i have no idea what to do with it. very little happens and it's more of a vignette than anything, but i still regard it with a sort of curiosity. after a long stretch where i seemed to be able to complete nothing, it seems at once strange and comforting to see something whole that i've produced.

here's hoping the strangeness part wears off soon.

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dreamspeak

ok, so i've been lax about posting here. i apologise. there are reasons. i don't know if they'ree good reasons, but they include:


i've had a lot of work to do, which is nice because i'm a freelancer and things tend to slow down in the summer, so the more work i get now, the less i have to worry about later [in theory].i started watching the handmaid's tale. i was a little hesitant because i didn't actually like the novel very much; i found it heavy-handed and predictable. the series relies on the novel for about 80% of its first season plot but i nevertheless find it spellbinding. where i felt that the novel beat readers with its politics, the series does a better job of connecting with the humanity in the midst of politics. i'm dithering on starting season two because i am a serial binger and once i know damn well that starting the second season will soon consign me to the horrors of having to wait a week between episodes. i don't know if i can han…

i agree, smedley [or, smokers totally saved our planet in 1983]

so this conversation happened [via text, so i have evidence and possibly so does the canadian government and the nsa].

dom and i were trying to settle our mutual nerves about tomorrow night's conversion screening, remembering that we've made a fine little film that people should see. which is just about exactly what dom had said when i responded thusly:

me :: i agree smedley. [pauses for a moment] did you get that here?

dom :: no?

me :: the aliens who were looking at earth and then decided it wasn't worth bothering with because people smoked even though it was bad for them?
come to think of it, that might mean that smokers prevented an alien invasion in the seventies.

dom :: what ?!?!?

me :: i've had wine and very little food. [pause] but the alien thing was real. [pause.] well, real on tv.

dom :: please eat something.

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making faces :: written in the stars [in lipstick]

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