[NfaSIR] Blasphemous Rumours

* So, last night was spent primarily looking at kinky pr0n, so it was pretty bachelorette. However, since I write romantica, I can justify this as research. Which. . . is actually true. I'm trying to get a good handle on "objectification" kink. If that's anyone here's bag, ping me. I have some experience with it, but I'm trying to get a good handle on it, as to why a boy would be into being objectified/why a girl would be into objectifying a boy that doesn't involve being used as an ashtray. I think I got some good answers, but I'm always curious for more. I was also looking at Japanese sweets restaurants, Go strategies, and then into a Hello Kitty downward spiral.

* Made pasta with turkey sausage, pesto, spinach, and sundried tomatoes for dinner, nom!

* Working on a track has been interesting so far. It's really interesting to be like, I want to do x, y, z and it will need a, b, c people and it will need a q, r, s budget. And I just wait for them to tell me what's a go and what's not. It's much lower stress in most ways, but as a control freak it feels like submitting a story, that there's a gaping vortex my ideas go into which may or may not be accepted. Today I contacted a bunch of people to see who's on board to do what. Both Events and Programming are interested, which is good. The completionist in me is all, I WANT THEM TO TAKE EVERYTHING. And then I'm like, but if they don't more time for you! You don't have money riding on this! Oh yeah!

* Macys sent me two left shoes in two different sizes. This is a problem. I'm returning. I need a new top to wear with the suit anyway.

* Tonight, Felix.

* Figured out my niddy noddy. Spining a lot thinner which is good.

Chase the morning/ yield for nothing

The quandry I'm in right now is that I feel like I'm not like a lot of writers. I'm past the fun part where it's all muses and typewriters and champagne cocktails and I'm more to a point where it's a job. An enjoyable job, but a job.

I don't have delusions of grandeur. I don't feel like I have anything that's going to outlast my life time in all probability. I still haven't written a full novel. It's a hurdle, and I'm not sure that I can. I like to think I can, but I'm not sure.

People are inclined in the sci-fi fantasy genre to say that short stories don't equal a novel. It is two different art forms, it's true. But in my genre, I'm not sure if that's true. I mean, surely if a small press uses say five of your short stories and you have a novel in your pocket, wouldn't your chances for publication increase as they know who you are and that not only someone, but they themselves took a gamble on you a few times? I don't know. I'm not there yet.

I don't feel like a lot of writers feel, that if I didn't write I wouldn't have anything. I guess maybe my childhood made it so that I don't allow any one thing to be that important to me that my life would be over without it. I have skills. I have a day job.

Why do I write? What does it mean? Who does it make me? Does it make me lesser that I don't tend to write about anything particularly important? When Jow was telling me about a friend of his' story, I snorted and I said oh that's x all over it. Which made me wonder, what about my writing is "me" all over it? Jow said all my stories are about a heroine who had some kind of massive adversity and picked herself up and kept going and figured out how to be happy. And . . .it's what I'm trying to do with my life.

People snort derisively that writing is supposed to be about aaaaaaaaaaaaart and not about money. I disagree. Look, no one is paid what they feel they're worth, why would the arts be any different? But I don't say, OMG, Jane! You're unwilling to file for the love of filing, how dare you expect to be paid $7 an hour! It's all about the money for you!

Let me be clear: At this stage, it is all about the money for me. It's not that I want a living wage out of it yet, I'm not there. But I don't answer phones or data enter for the love of it, why shouldn't I be paid for writing? It's work. It's work I like or love or hate depending on the day you ask (just like my day job). I feel a sense of achievement and accomplishment when something is completed, but I've been honing my writing for literally half my life and yeah, I'm far from perfect still but I believe I'm publishable.

Jow said, I want you to write a short story not with the goal of getting paid for it. And I looked at him for a minute and I was like, are you fucking serious? Jow what do you think I was doing for years? *Nothing* was published by me until we started dating! I used to write stories and stuff for creative writing class. This is a new thing, the getting paid for it and writing with the goal of getting paid.

I take time off, but I've been writing little stories and poems since I was 12. If I was rejected enough, and no one at all would have me, would I keep writing? That's the question I've been asking myself. On one hand, I can't see not writing. On the other, what if I'm pounding the pavement for the next decade and no one bites? When does it become the definition of madness?