Archive for the ‘ Writing ’ Category
I think yesterday’s post was the first time I’ve ever directly referred to That Thing as a “book”.
And I’m freaking out slightly — like the heavens are going to open and rain down lightning bolts and ninja cats on me.
Anybody else have this psychosis?
I’ve been doing some very basic research on Kindle Direct Publishing — and I’m curious, what do you WordPress illuminati think about it?
Personally, I’m very intrigued — it seems like a fascinating tool to self-publish, completely doing an end-run around the paper-publishing brontosaurs.
Ultimately, this is all Top of the Mountain stuff, while I labor mightily on the slopes — but still rolling it around in my mind palace. [Sherlock reference -- sorry, thought this was Tumblr for a second.]
Thoughts – opinions-actual experience?
I’m at my parent’s house this weekend, in the Elven Forest — and the internets are a weeeee little trickle, so probably no posting today or tomorrow.
Despite my unglamorous descent into fanfiction last weekend [thanks for the trolling, Jonathan.] – I still really dig the Story on Demand each weekend. So, throw a comment on this post with a bit of micro-fiction you’d like me to write. Setting, characters, genre, any other weird little wrinkles you want to throw on top.
I had been writing the story for whoever commented FIRST. But, this time, I’ll leave it open for 12 hours or so, and just pick the one that seems the most fun.
Reading about “fair use” and copyright law is depressing.
I completely understand the concern – as someone who wants people to give me money for my intellectual
property at some point — but it’s so clutching, and grasping — little fences hammered in everywhere, and zealous wardens sharpening their blades.
And it means I can’t have Buddy Holly lyrics in my fantasy novel.
Which is a deep, abiding tragedy.
I don’t trust emotions in my real life — wrangling them into my writing is proving to be a hurdle.
I’ll keep working on it, and should have the next chunk up later today.
The black halls of Iax stretched on out of view, sunflower torches seeming to absorb more light then they cast. Simon pressed himself hard against a column, and waited for the quiet footfalls of the patrol to pass him by.
He breathed shallowly, and tried to ignore the condensation sliding down the inside of his goggles. Their
tourmaline lenses magnified the ambient light, allowing him to move easily in the near-abyss of Iax – but the leather strap was itchy, the sweat pouring down his forehead abominable. Simon desperately wanted to rip them off, wipe the lenses and mop his forehead with a free sleeve – but the movement would instantly alert the Tyr-Elves of the passing patrol. Their eyes glowed a clammy blue in the distance. He leaned his head back against the pillar, and felt the sharp edges of the stone.
Then he thought of her.
Really, Simon? Now? You are four miles below the earth, tangling with Shadow elves –show some decorum.
Simon grinned. A magic grin with a broken piece in it.
He turned his head slowly away from the patrol, so they wouldn’t see the shine of his teeth, or the light in his eyes.