Deviant Dispatches

The less I write, the less I write. The last month or so marks the least consistent streak of writing since I began this blog, back in New Mexico. It's a disturbing trend, and one I'd rather discontinue; not only have I been inattentive here, I've distanced myself from the novel a bit too much. This means that rather than being almost done with Draft 5 and ready to start emailing publishers in desperation, I'm instead on page 119 of 321, barely a third through and giving my own writing mind a vicious, critical stink eye. To be fair, I have done some tough work, and the first half is what most needs improving. I've cut down several thousand words and the ones that are already in place flow with much better prose, if not more poetically. Things are happening. But I know I can do better, and so I'm going to. The new goal is to get to page 140 by the end of the month. That's 21 pages - a horrifically easy pace compared to what I've been doing, but a st...

Yesterday was Wednesday, which, as you know, is the day I set aside the blog and work on the novel instead. I've really been plugging away at it lately, so I wanted to share some of my progress with you. Ideally, I'd share the most recent myth I wrote for it. But the novel is reaching a certain point where I don't really want to post much of this stuff on the Internets, because I don't want it to be stolen. I am also hoping to publish the myth I just wrote, and many places have strict rules against previous publishing in any format. So instead of sharing what I've written, I'll tell you about what I've been doing to get the book ready for human consumption. Adding myths. So far I have one about the world's creation, one about the end of the world, and one about a trickster/shapeshifter. Adding segments from another character's perspective. This is to help add depth to the story, and to give it more than two main characters. Edits. I'm on...

Dear Writer's Block, Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more obnoxious and more idiotic. You are not the bread and the knife, because I am the one wielding the knife, shaking it in your face in hopes that you will be frightened off by my mad antics. You are not the crystal goblet, nor the wine, which I imbibe in hopes of shaking loose some thread of creativity from your evil clutches. I often think the wine has done its bidding, only to wake up the next morning with the ache of a thousand puns raging in my skull. On my desk is a page full of words not even Dan Brown would publish. I do not love thee, Writer's Block, to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, because my soul does not extend to all four corners of the earth with a murky, hopeless darkness; only you are so special. I shall not love thee better after death, even though you (being the devil's most wicked torture) will not follow me to heaven. Freedom and rights have nothing to...

  XKCD Dear Internet, I'm really tired of you playing hard to get. You've gotten predictable that way. In the mornings, you're like, "Yeah, I'm for realz here for u!" and then in the evening, your tune has changed to, "Well, I dunno." At least learn some grammar if you're going to start hating on me. I will not hesitate to bitch-slap you with a dictionary. The Oxford English Dictionary. All 20 volumes . I don't know what to do with you anymore. Yes, I'm still interested in pursuing this. But every time you get flaky on me, you start talking about "commitment" and "contracts" and "installation fees." Hell, commitment is expensive. You think I want that? Your little game of cat and laser pointer has gotten old. I know what you're trying to do: you want me to finally admit how much I need you and give in to my anger. You want me to turn to the Dark Side and hope I'll sign my life away to y...

Next year, Spousal Unit and I - along with a big group of family - are hopefully going to Germany. The stipulation here is, of course, being able to save enough money to go. But I'm already daydreaming of going back to the place I visited ten years ago with a student exchange group. Bavarian Tours I want to take Spousal Unit to Königsee, a lake as blue as the Carribean, but in the midst of mountains. The lake is such a vibrant blue-green because of mineral runoff from the mountains, and St. Bartholomew's Chapel is an unusual but delightful beauty in this little niche, too. Mere minutes away is the Eagle's Nest , which was Nazi headquarters during World War II and Hitler's home. Now, it's a cafe, serving hot chocolate and a beautiful view to tourists. When I was there in high school, I had fun bounding all over the mountain like a hyperactive teenage goat. American in Norway There are also tours of the former bunker underground, with an extensive...

Imagine that every day when Superman uses his phone booth to change, three people happen to walk by. As Clark Kent ducks in and starts ripping his clothes off, the first person strolls by. (Clarkie has apparently forgotten that duh, phone booths have glass doors.) Huh, the innocent bystander thinks. I hope that guy’s okay. Did a bee fly into his shirt? As Mr. Kent continues to get naked, the bystander wonders if maybe it was a whole swarm. Then, out steps Superman. Astounded at having seen the superhero up close and personal, Bystander #1 runs home to tell her family about the guy who got naked in a phone booth and stepped out wearing his underwear on the outside of his spandex. Bystander #2 doesn’t see the transformation, but knows Superman recently invoked the power of flight in the name of justice. He tries to make an ordinary phone call, not knowing this booth is Superman’s boudoir. Bystander #2 forgets about the call and examines the random pile of clothes, then disc...

Ladies and gents: I successfully avoided putting the box of cereal in the fridge when I got up this morning. Hooray for that. Now for news that you actually care about. First, thank you for participating in my meager little survey. Results said that, if anything, you would all like to see more letters to various entities, be they undead mythological beasts or undead modern companies (seeing as corporations are people in the good ol' US, I guess they're just as at risk for becoming vampires, too). Tied with that was a craving for more book previews. I am totally okay with that. It helps that at work, I'm now the custodian of sections that I care about, so I will more often stumble across awesomeness. Such as the one I'm going to tell you about later this week... But overwhelmingly, rather than seeing any one particular thing more often, results said that you all like Deviant Dispatches the way it is, and wouldn't change it a bit. Which is why I'm go...

I'm very excited for the movie version of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, which comes out in theaters on March 23 . I absolutely loved the books in that series, and can't wait to see what they do to bring it to life. The intensity willl be amazing, I think, and Jennifer Lawrence seems like she might actually play a good Katniss. I know some of my friends will have concerns about staying true to the book and the possibility of the movie totally ruining the book in their eyes. I have some similar concerns; would you expect less of someone who has a t-shirt like this? Available here I don't really believe a bad movie can ruin a good book for me, though. The two are very separate medias, one relying imagination, the other asking merely for eyesight and hearing. And even if the movie isn't exactly the same as the book, it can still be a wonderful movie. The prime example of this right now is Harry Potter. I've enjoyed pretty much all of the mo...

Christmas has come and gone, and so have all my Christmas gifts to others. Which means I can now share them with you. Feel the excitement, people! First is a little guy I made for a friend with an office, which was barren except for stress. This is Fuzzball the Destroyer , of planet Zweeflebox. He fits in the palm of one's hand, squishes rather nicely, and has opposable eyeballs. This might be the best destructive fuzzy thing I've ever created. (Yes, there have been others, but no relation.) I created him with size 6 needles, Lion Brand fuzzy pompom yarn, and a strand of brown Caron. The eyeballs are Patons Grace mercerized cotton. On a slightly more practical note, I crafted a selbu (Norwegian-style) hat. You remember Kaelin, right? She's the one with her foot all over the top of this page. I made this hat months and months ago, and I was so thrilled with it that I almost gave it to her back in September. But I resisted, and now she has a Christmas ha...

My birthday this year has come and gone. My list of 25 things to do before turning 27 was pathetically attempted and has even become lost in the shuffle of living in a place not my own. I have a mention of it on my blog, here , which discusses the things I attempted and did not accomplish, as of June. I still have not accomplished any of them. I feel kind of pathetic. I'd love to give you a recap of the goals I achieved, as my friend Sandy does on her blog, but seeing as I lost the paper I wrote them on (which was a piece of scrap paper), I cannot do that. Wedding stuff was on there, along with seeing my childhood friend again for the first time in 18 years at the wedding. Beyond that, I do not recall. I'll let you know if I find that piece of mischievous paper again. The whole point of doing a list like this is to keep things exciting, to be bold about life when I might otherwise not be, and to keep challenging myself. Also, to remember to do the things I want, rather than not...

Lately, I've been questioning a lot of things about my life. Who I am, who I want to be, what I want next - you name it, it's been on my mind. So many questions like that all at once can be a good thing. They can lead to big changes in a person's life. But I reached the point where I started to feel muddled and weighed down by them all. It was just depressing, and I felt caught in a spiral of doubt and negativity - one might call it a sneaky hate spiral . So yesterday I ventured down to the lake, to a spot that had a plethora of small rocks at the shoreline, and began to skip them. In college, I started that practice after watching the movie Amelie . Rock skipping is one of her pastimes, and it had been a long time since I'd done it. I found that each time I went, I felt lighter. It was a chance to be alone for a while - one bit of calm in the midst of my crazy life. That practice stopped while I was in New Mexico. Bodies of water are not exactly plentiful there, and th...

Everywhere I look online, I'm seeing the word "occupy" appear. At first, it was just "Occupy Wall Street." We Are the 99 Percent's website features posts from people who are in the enormous bottom segment of income in the United States: people who aren't making enough to live on and are involuntarily in hopeless situations. And with almost every post came that phrase. I had no clue what it meant. That was two days ago. Yesterday, I saw it again, in links on Facebook. Occupy Wall Street is a social/political movement (somewhat connected to the group Adbusters ) that some are comparing to the recent Middle Eastern revolts. The purpose is more or less to stand up, as the lower-class majority, and stand against a country run by the top one percent of money holders. According to the website , they have "an interest in returning the US back into the hands of it's individual citizens." (Guys, I love the idea, but you need a copy editor. I volunte...

This weekend, Spousal Unit and I returned to my beloved homeland in the Northwoods to visit family. It was a delightful time. Mom and Neal took us to Nelson, Wis., to visit the cheese factory . We had fun and ate food (this includes ice cream, of course). Later, we visited a winery in Alma which had really sweet wines - I don't think I could've handled a full glass of any that I tried. But before we visited the winery, we went on a short trip to Minnesota. Alma and Nelson are right along the Mississippi, lining the river with gorgeous bluffs, lush greenery, and delicious cheese. Across the giant bridge, Minnesota offers a chance for gas at a cheaper price, due to lack of sales tax. We've done things like this before to pinch a few pennies, but rarely has it been such an adventure. I must first add that this was entirely Neal's idea, so we owe him credit for suggesting this wonderful venture, which started with backed-up traffic in Nelson , a town of 400 people. It seeme...

Remember me mentioning, far away and long ago, the novel I'm working on ? Yes. Well. That was back in May, and I've only edited another 15 pages or so since then. Shame on me. But recently, I've really been feeling the drive to get a move on with this thing. I know my book forwards and backwards, I know the characters like they're family (or like they're close, personal enemies), and I know what I need to do to finish it. So I decided the best way to actually get it done is to make a list. Lists are my favorite way of staying organized. Then (so long as the paper doesn't get lost) you won't forget everything that needs doing, and you can revel in the cathartic experience of crossing items off as you finish them. You add things as they come to mind, and eventually the paper's filled up with lots of things you have and haven't done. Then you transfer everything that's left to a new piece of paper and start over. Maybe no one else does ...

The following was a writing sample I wrote as part of the application process for a job. As I didn't get said job, I am now posting it for your amusement. Here's what spewed out of my brain in the allotted hour. Enjoy - I'm going to create another writing sample for another job. "Monkeys" a Linguistic Menagerie Allison Finseth’s highly anticipated autobiography, Dances With Monkeys , is a bizarre exploration of ordinary life. Vivid descriptions of her short life thus far ensconce the reader in a delightful little world. Her brief and varied existence is concisely described in occasionally hyperbolic – but always beautifully clear – language. Her experiences as a child are rich and colorful, and she manages to expound upon tiny experiences that have made her life all the more incredible. Small elements from her childhood – from the pig stone in her backyard to the flaming shirt incident – remain fresh in her memory and come alive on each page. “Real life,...

A deadline extension would do her no good: Melissa was determined to spend the rest of her life with this turtle, and no lousy newspaper job was going to stop her. The paper was going under soon anyway; it was no secret. Downsizing, departmental cuts, and overwhelming pressure from the top were all making the copy editors sweat and obsess an unusual amount. Each time the owner or managing editors popped in for coffee, they had the sinking feeling that the time had come. Chaos was just around the corner and the whole copy editing department was being laid off, leaving the paper to flounder in unedited, classless headlines and accidental double entendres all the way to the final print run. So far, it hadn’t happened, but the threat was imminent, especially with the economy struggling for longer screen time in its Cyrano de Bergerac death throes. Melissa wasn’t going to be there when it happened; she was taking her pet turtle and absconding to South Dakota. She had decided to pack up the ...

*This is a myth from my novel, expanded for your enjoyment. Birds in Mulnaran culture are sacred; this myth explains why.* Long ago, when humans still had their tails and the newly born world spun quickly in her path, the Great Heron looked down on creation with the waters of the earth in his eyes and sorrow in his heart. He was yet a god then, pleased with all he and the other gods had brought to life. But one new form had fallen away from them: mankind. The Great Ape had given mankind their long arms and legs, to move quickly on land, or in the trees, or in the world's large waters. The Great Fox had given them brilliant minds, to create beautiful things and speak beautiful thoughts. And the Great Heron himself gave them a light in their spirits, for though man may never fly on his own, they would always look to the heavens and dream of being more than they are. So did the gods bless mankind, and mankind was grateful. But much time passed, and things once passed from parent to ch...

You're going to start seeing more creative stuff from me. There's a creative writing program in Madison that has me very intrigued. It's a two-year program, and from what I can tell, many students have gone on to publish good books and become fairly important people. If you get in, tuition is basically free, you get a stipend for teaching one class each semester plus a scholarship for the first summer, and students get the same health care package as the faculty. Health care , people. I haven't had that for three years. All in all, this looks like an amazing program. I already know I love the Madison area, so that's no problem. The creative writing program is fairly new, but I've only heard great stuff about it (if you know otherwise, please tell me). If (and this is a big if, just because we haven't asked questions yet) Spousal Unit can also in at Madison for his PhD, we'll be set for pretty much forever. And then we'll skip down Lollipop Lane tog...

When I was little, we moved a lot within the same city. By the time I was six, we'd lived in six different places. But we finally settled in an awesome little house, where we stayed until my mom recently remarried. This awesome little house was awesome for several reasons. Even though my room was always freezing in the winter, I thought it was the absolute best to have a crawlspace under my room. When I was first allowed to explore them, I found graffiti all over the walls from previous owners, and I was allowed to add my own name to the denizens of the past. I was eight and allowed to write on the walls. Awesome points. We built our own swingset and slide out back not long after moving in. But that wasn't what made the backyard awesome. It helped, sure, but the nature already in place was what rocked the backyard. First, there was the tree. An enormous old "helicopter tree," as we called it, because of the little whirligigs that stuffed our gutters and sprouted mi...

I have a problem. Well, I have many problems, but I have a specific one right now. I was gifted a ball of soft, royal blue mohair as a Christmas/wedding gift from my manager (he really knows how to gift). I crocheted it, along with some varigated alpaca yarn, into a mini-capelet. It's super-tiny, hence my calling it a capelet instead of a shawl. When pinned around my neck, it reaches my shoulders and no farther. That's fine by me; I like having a little cape. My problem involves another ball of mohair yarn. I've already started working with it, adding in a strand of brown acrylic for extra weight. I was hoping to make a blanket, but the mohair I got was $8 and only got me an itty bitty foot-and-a-half rug-type thing, only large enough to keep GIR warm. Plus, it kind of looks like cat vomit. I have some flat, tan, mother-of-pearly bead things I was going to attach to it afterward. But I don't want to spend a ridiculous amount of money making this blanket, and now I can...