st_jane_ambulance: (three)
I think my Lord of the Rings story broke itself. All of a sudden it doesn't make any sense. Or is this just my brain on caffeine and ibuprofen? Whatever, TAKING A DAY OFF NOW.
st_jane_ambulance: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd]Either Bubble Bobble or Tetris. Or that one we had on 5" floppy where we fired cannons at each other's castles.
st_jane_ambulance: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd]James McAvoy or Paul Bettany, because they're fantastic quirky actors and not bad to look at.
st_jane_ambulance: (ten)
Fun Hour isn't as much fun anymore. And nobody's reading it anyway.

I really feel like writing something, maybe finishing that Lord of the Rings fic I stared three and a half years ago *headdesk* Biggest problem with that is, I left all my notes, such as they were, at school. That and I hate the story. I really do. However, that doesn't leave me with too many options.

What I ought to do is write a proper story.
st_jane_ambulance: (one)
I really, really want to write something right now. But what, but what? I have a story that I'm quite a ways into, but it's fanfic and I want to write something of my own (besides, I'm a little stuck). All this reading of an author who started writing his first book at FIFTEEN has made me want to sit down, shut up, and accomplish something. Trouble is, for me that's a hell of a lot harder than it sounds. I'm not going to be a very good author if I can't ever get anything written. I think my problem is that I'm afraid of my writing. I don't know if I can get more specific than that. Whatever it is, I need to get over it. Lately I've sort of wanted to write something of the sort that's really introspective and weird that I usually can't stand to read. Something like the narrative opening of an old film noir. Or some weird story like Jim Jarmusch's Dead Man (even though it's a movie). But since I never read that kind of stuff, I don't know how to write it. Damn.

I have all these ideas floating at the edge of my mind, but I can't seem to quite grasp them. They slip through my fingers like so much sand and blow away on the turbulent wind of my thoughts, and frustration covers me like a shroud.

There, now we're getting somewhere. I think ranting is good for my creative side.

Eldest update!
Two words: drunk dragon. Drunk, singing, and falling over on tables. Freaking hilarious.
I'm beginning to really like this series.


st_jane_ambulance: (Default)

March 2013

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