Deviant Dispatches

The beautiful label looked something like this . But more heavenly. Long ago at work, we received an incredible stash of gifts from our Taiwanese counterparts. They were provided as we began working with them and included several delicious teas and sweets. But the best thing of all was an abnormally sized jar of honey, gorgeous, tall and made of glass with a beautiful floral label and covered in a swooping, elegant font beyond my capacity for understanding. I didn't dare touch it; from whence had these gifts come? Were they available to all, or meant to be parsed out for those who worked on the Taiwan project? I didn't know and therefore let the shining bottle be, though an angelic choir seemed to ring out whenever I saw it. At some point after the jar's grand opening, a label was affixed to it. A serious label, made with a label maker and declaring in bold, English capital letters beside the swooping Taiwanese that this was a jar of PUBLIC HONEY. I wondered whet...

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...

You haven't had cats in a while. You've been good, though. You get cats today. Here is my typical writing station. Titania and Oberon are concerned that I'm taking pictures instead of writing. I'm glad to have such picturesque kitties. Not that I love them for their looks, but it helps when one needs blog photos.

Write something around the proverb "Silence is a great healer." - from Creative Writing Prompts They both knew the other was awake, but pretended not to. Mornings lately were a grinding of gears, a tearing of pages, and best before the first word. He shifted to his side, feigning unawareness; she flowed against his back, taking what meager enjoyment she could. It was bitter beyond the covers; she tucked her nose back in. Neither could say exactly what brought them here. She would say it was months of effort with nothing to show for it. He would say the same, if he thought the truth wouldn't scald her. She exhaled, oven-warm, against his arm, but the air outside still chilled.

Troy Noir, Private Eye (Part I) The dame gives me the low-down on Paulson. "He's been a high-stakes gambler for years," she says between sips of wine. "Poor idiot doesn't know when to stop, though. So he pulls schemes like this to make it up." "Like what?" I ask. Going in, all I knew was he scammed like the best of them. No one mentioned this dame as his partner, either. "His latest one was trying to sell air. As in, the air we're breathing right now. Not one of his better schemes, but would you believe some people were falling for it?" I'm a little shocked as she pulls a bottle of wine from her purse. Granted, she's been putting them back, but I'd have figured her as a flask kinda girl. "He's near the tracks," she says, nodding toward the railway by the river. "When you find him, offer a glass of this. He won't be able to resist." "'Tears of the panther,...

It was a crisp day in early October, one of those that makes you glad you wore long johns, and also makes you wish for something with a little kick to warm your belly. I headed to the local joint to have a shot of whisky, but they were all out, so I had to settle for wine. I don't know why I go to that place. The wine made me look distinguished, but do I look like a guy who cares? I had bigger fish to fry. I was on the case, looking for the guy who skimmed my client in a ponzi scheme. Naturally, the cellar was the place to start, but my clues were few and the wine was weak, so I couldn't get the ideas flowing. I headed out back to see if I could find anything there. Sure enough, this dame's out back. She has a smile like she knows things, right? Like she's there for more than just the wine. Any other PI would have fallen for it, but I was focused. "What do you know about Paulson's set-up?" I asked her as she ran a hand through her red loc...

Last night, I met one of my favorite authors, and by the time I'd left for the night, I was convinced he hated me. This is likely just what my weird brain has conjured up. At most, I probably induced mild panic in someone who had already signed his name a lot that day. But here's the story. John Scalzi spoke at A Room of One's Own in Madison last night, thanks to my friend Gretchen's amazing author-getting skills. He was as funny in person as he is on the Internet, read from his new book The Human Division , and was terribly gracious when someone commented (not unkindly) that "You look much better than the last time I saw you." ("It's the slimming yellow," he responded.) So slimming, that Gamma Rabbit .   After his reading, he took questions, and I was lucky enough to be selected. So I asked him what part of the writing process makes him bang his head on the desk repeatedly. ("Starting," he said, "which is why ...

*Spousal Unit works at a medical supply company. He sent this letter last week to the woman who orders company supplies. He really did.* Hi Michelle, I had a question about the pens that we have. Well, it's really more of an issue. You see, earlier today, I took a pen out of the supply closet for use on an Official Document. This document was not time sensitive, though it could very well have been. I could have had need to write a note on an important certificate for a doctor's signature, or I could have needed a pen to correct an authorization request to Medicaid. What if the patient's house had been on fire and I needed to sign an attestation in order for Medicare to cover replacement equipment, but the patient was cold, hungry, and without their medical equipment until I could do so? I hope I've impressed upon you the gravity of this situation. So I took a pen from the supply closet for use on an Official Document. At this point, I'd like to refer you to ...

We've entered the home of what we can only assume to be a person of strange moods and tastes. Our reception was warm and welcoming, but the Lieutenant and I were a bit disconcerted at the state of the local fauna. Many of them, as with this African violet, appear to be thriving in this hostile environment. I would be inclined to choose different language to describe the territory, if not for the presence of this ... former plant. Clearly, the latter has been deceased for many days, if not weeks, yet it remains as is, in a pot in a corner. The room is scattered with various other greenery as well; I can only be led to believe some tyrant believes herself the Angel of Death and has left the deceased as a warning to other plants. She must have a heart drier than Earth's Nairobi desert. That, or we've encountered our first chlorophyll vampire.

The first post of the new year. Many people have done a top-ten recap of their last year, posting the glorious things that happened to them in 2012 or their best blog posts. Don't worry; I'm planning to list my most popular blogs for you, too. But as far as my own life? No recaps here. I'm doing a precap - a top-ten list of what will happen for me in 2013. (This would be so much better if I had a Magic 8 ball.) Allison's 2013 Precap 1. Kitties come to live with Spousal Unit and I. (This is imminent - happening at the end of the week.) 2. I actually manage to hold a job for more than half a year without wanting to stab myself in the jugular - new record since moving back to Wisconsin. 3. My wee sister graduates high school and realizes I was right - it does  end, and not everyone acts like high schoolers in the rest of the world. (Not everyone,  but still some.) 4. I will finish my novel. Not as in, "Dear publisher, Please love this pile of word vomit....

Source Dear Spousal Unit, Please explain why you delight in tormenting me. We have been married for almost two years. This should not happen for another year or two, I'd think. Spousal Unit, let me explain something to you about the movie The Shining . It's about a writer and his family, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by cold and snow. It's about the writer's descent into madness and his attempt to kill everyone around him. In short, it's not a family film. Let me be blunt: that movie draws a close parallel to our current lives. Do you  really  want to put that poster in the room where I plan to write? It not only sounds like a foolish idea, but a dangerous one. I'm already teetering on the edge of socially acceptable behavior; do you want to push me over entirely? On second thought, don't answer that. True it may be, that you'd hang that terrible memorial to insanity, rage, and supernatural revenge in the library's hallway, w...

We've had some good light action in the last week or so. Here are three different instances of that: two sunsets and a sunrise. The last one is from this morning. See what you missed while you were brushing your teeth? Let this be a lesson to you: dental hygiene leads to... um... nothing, if you don't let the sun shine on your pearly whites. Anyway. Have a happy day.

Behold: the basement. I must warn you - what you're about to see may shock and/or disgust you. Put aside the cereal bowl. As you can see, there are stains on the carpet from bodies being dragged downstairs. I can only imagine it's from the life juices seeping out of them. These crooked supports make me worry a little. Plus, you can't tell, but the lowest beams are only about six feet from the floor. (I left the date on these pictures just in case someone found my bludgeoned body and they were wondering when I was murdered. Hopefully, the murderer would leave the camera behind. Anyone who murders in this basement isn't after the camera, methinks. They're just after my sweet, sweet blood candies .) The gateway to the storage area. Note the storage room door, strategically removed from its hinges. Our lovely storage space. The wall spot on the left is a bit of graffiti; the streak in the corner is mold. Below the empty forklift skid is a hole i...

This was a terrible weekend for NaNoWriMo. My personal writing goal this weekend was small and simple: about 700 words, and more if I could manage it. Apparently, I could not. There was so much unpacking and so many friends and so  many ways to procrastinate that Monday morning dawned on a wordless writer. I shall not allow it to happen again. It's times like this that I must remember my cause and redouble my efforts. That usually involves: 1) Remembering the internet is not my friend at these times, and 2) Reading through all of the inspirations I've tucked away. Some are simple quotes; some are longer. But they all help me remember that writing is just one word followed by another, and that helps me get things done. Neil Gaiman's 8 Good Writing Practices Snoopy always helps me out. Keep your writing mascot at your side! Neil Gaiman's NaNoWriMo Pep Talk (Hey, he's good at giving advice. And I totally love everything he's ever written, so that...

This weekend, I get to have fun with a bizarre aspect of my life which, to most people, is a square peg in a star-shaped hole. But I love it and throw myself into it every year. This weekend is the fantasy football draft. I love the weird sense of community that develops between me and my friends - mostly guys, of course. The one other girl on my team always thrills at seeing how well we do overall, compared to the guys - and we've done pretty well every year. Here's hoping one of us wins it this time. I've been doing research on this stuff, because last year I was woefully unprepared to choose my team. I chose... poorly.  (Okay, I did just fine. But I wanted to use that line.) Still, when all is said and done, the English major in me can't resist having the most fun of all with the least important aspect of the game: developing a team name. The best one I've had so far was The Aluminum Falcons; I hope to top it this year. I spent a good hour putzing around ...

I have not been reading enough. I intend to remedy this. As a writer, one of the most important things for me to do is to keep reading. I need to see how other authors have done it in the past - how they've created worlds, characters, suspense, phrases, plot, and words. Aside from actually writing, it is the single most important way to improve my abilities. I have read a total of six books this year - that's just more than one book per month. It's kind of pathetic compared to my usual track record. Along with that, I've had a pretty terrible case of reading apathy since the last book I finished. Thankfully, yesterday I got back into it again with Jem by Frederik Pohl , which won the National Book Award - one of few science fictions to do so. But this book will only last me so long. Part of the reason I've been reading less is my new job, I think - it's the first bookstore I've worked at that doesn't have a check-out policy for its employees. Yes, ...

*The following is a second myth to go with my novel, Harvest. It doesn't quite fit my novel yet, but it was fun getting to this point. When humanity had yet to exist, the Great Ape, Fox, and Heron gifted the world with purpose and harmony. Mankind came to envy these gifts, but could not grasp their beauty - what a foolish creature, to not know the way home. And so shall history write itself: There lived a race called humankind, who sought peace and possessed none. With little effort, it called forth a shadow from deep nightmares. It spoke like peace, but in the guise of shapeless fear. Humans thought to control it, but the shadow feasted on their aimless anger. The end crept in slowly, and just as they were made, humans took themselves apart. In all their villages, the shadow flowed. Young were not spared, nor old. Slow as old honey, then quick as a comet, the shadow grew. Mankind was blinded to Death, who walked beside them. They awoke one day to the terror of absence. Hu...

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...

November is upon us. I have yet to decide if I will fully participate in this year's National Novel Writing Month , but I will at least give my novel more focus. If nothing else, I will use this time to craft my characters and improve at least the first 30 pages of my novel, which are probably the worst pages I've ever written. For those who plan to participate (or who just like writing), I provide for you here some of my favorite writing-related implements of creation. Write or Die is a great way to get out the required number of words in a short amount of time. If you stop writing, the screen gradually turns pink, then red, then starts screeching at you in a most terrible manner. Beware: on occasion, rather than screeching, the program has removed my most recent words letter by letter. So, you know, keep cheating by hitting space and backspace over and over. (Also, you don't have to buy this. Look for the online edition on this website, in the right column.) Dragon Writin...