It's kind of embarrassing to admit this after the previous "rant" on fanfiction, but...
I was bored. I was just browsing my hard-drive. I thought it'd amuse me to re-read some of my old stuff, namely the Silent Hill parody, which I never finished.
Nearly six years ago, I started writing that one. Most of it makes absolutely no sense, and it's filled with atrocities against the English language.
(Although I believe an eightteen-year-old not-native English speaker is allowed to commit some atrocities.)
Thing is, at some point, Fanfiction.Net must've stopped notifying me when I got reviews. Because I checked out the story, remembering some people seemed to like it.
There were new reviews as recent as last year - five years after I uploaded the first chapter.
I feel strangely obligated to write more to it now, until it's finished. Although whatever I write now would be very different from those earlier chapters. Which made no sense at all.
Noiseless Hill
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Warning: Some parts of this article may be fabricated, and objects in the rear-view mirror may appear closer than they really are. Viewer discretion is advised.
( The Indigo Children )
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Woohoohoo. I won.
It is still crap. But that doesn't matter for now, I won! Like they say, third time's a charm.
Was slightly amused when I told a good friend about it yesterday (as I was finishing up the epilogue) - the conversation went a bit like this:
"I won I won!"
"Oh, cool. What'd you win?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, do you get any money?"
"Uh. No."
"Oh. I mean, fuck, congratulations! :D"
Well. Not that I wouldn't like to get money. :p
Here are some November Stats!
Nation of the Free: 50,793 words
Amount of Cigarettes Consumed: 650-700
Amount of Portuguese Coffee Consumed: About 35 doubles and about 70-80 regulars
People Seen: Umm. Five?
Times Gone Outside For Other Purposes Than Coffee & Groceries: Two or three times
Daily Amount of Sleep: Anywhere between 3 and 7 hours a day/night. No apparent pattern as to whether I would sleep during the day or at night.
Woot!
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I have a problem with fanfiction. And yes, it is a personal one, and no, you don't have to read about it if you don't want to. That's why it's ingeniously hidden behind a cut.
( Fanfiction – A Rant )
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I woke up yesterday around 3 pm (after finally having fallen asleep at around 8 am), and I haven't slept since.
Twelve thousand words to write, and less than five days to do it in. It seems like nothing. In the three years I've done NaNoWriMo, I've never been this close. Now, if only I could stop procrastinating.
My novel is crap. The characters have no depth whatsoever, and when they interact, they do it in a ridiculously unrealistic way. None of them are likeable - understandable, maybe, but likeable? No.
I forgot half the points I wanted to make in it, and the things I wanted to do.
There are at least two horrible cliché moments in the plot that I'm consciously aware of at this moment.
The writing is beyond bad. Subject Verb Bla. Subject Verb Bla. Suddenly, Subject Verb Bla.
I had a happy ending in mind for one of the characters I identify most with, until I realised she's a whiny, angsty bitch. She doesn't deserve a happy ending, so she's getting what's coming to her. (I don't care if that breaks traditional conventions or reader's expectations - if I think she's obnoxious, then surely so will anyone who reads it, which means we'll all get to feel really happy about the way she's going to end up.)
God, I love NaNoWriMo. It's going to be so much fun editing this mess. (And I mean that! It's not sarcasm. I'm having the month of my life.)
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| 2008-11-25 20:41 |
| Simon - A Drabble |
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| drabble |
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Lately, I find myself wondering about people I could've been friends with.
There was this kid in school. Simon. His adoptive name. He was a war orphan – a little black boy in a classroom full of white ones. Only years later I found out some people have trouble with that.
Last time I saw him was at the library. “How've you been? It's been a while.” We said we'd keep in touch, but we never did. That's life. It gets in the way.
I like to think we could've been friends. He killed himself before I could ever find out.
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Insomnia.
The inability to sleep. I don't sleep.
I tell myself, it's nothing. I'm just not tired. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I'm just not tired.
I just don't want to sleep.
Because as soon as I'm lying there, I know I'll start thinking. About where to go. About what to do. About what I'm doing here. About life. About him.
I'm afraid to think. I don't want to think.
But it's not that. I'm just not tired. I just don't want to sleep.
I'm just tired. I just want to sleep.
But I don't sleep. I won't.
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shocked
cynical
tired