Everlark Fanfiction Multi-Chapter Story Stalls

Apologies, dear blog readers, this is something she hasn’t posted about in a long time: her avocation for writing Hunger Games Everlark fan fiction (Multi-chapter, loaded with angst. Please do not judge).

She started writing fan fiction late last year, and found it to be an extremely relaxing activity.

First, she made Peeta the hero, and Katniss the supporting player.

Then, she married Katniss off to Gale, and gave them a son.

Then, she had Peeta’s father murdered (by who else but Snow?) and had Gale arrested by Cray (framed for the murder of Peeta’s father). Self suspects she did this solely to have an excuse for Katniss to spend much time in the Justice Building, being interrogated by the depraved Cray. (Readers said self’s Cray was THE most disgusting iteration of that character in anything Everlark. You’d better believe it! She’s had so much practice writing depraved characters in her regular fiction! And BTW, another depraved character is to enter her universe of published work very very very soon, when Juked publishes her story “First Life,” they said mid-July.)

Then she had Haymitch wandering dolorously about District 12.

Then she forced Peeta to marry a career victor from One named Darna.

Then she got responses from readers that they liked Darna; she was like Katniss 2.0

Then, she realized she was not writing Everlark any longer, but Peeta + OOC.

So then, she had absolutely no idea how to proceed. But one of her last scenes was Peeta running flat-out down an avenue of the Capitol, escaping from a pair of suits who behave like Tweedledum and Tweedledee and talk like escapees from a Samuel Beckett play (God, can you believe that self actually mentions Samuel Beckett in connection with Hunger Games Everlark fan fiction???) Peeta gets caught and taken to a train platform. Then he winds up with —  Finnick’s father in the woods of Four ???? And Katniss shows up there, too, and self has no idea how?

Can she just make Peeta a Shadowhunter? That way he has at his disposal all kinds of glamours? So he can run flat-out down a Capitol Avenue and escape from Tweedledum and Tweedledee? (In her fiction, Peeta’s wearing nothing. Because — never mind, long long long backstory. Self’s inspiration was watching Magic Mike.)

This is the kind of thing self is afraid might happen to this novel she is writing now, about a Spanish priest in the 18th century who is assigned a mission to the Philippines. He arrives on an island, witnesses all kinds of un-Christian activity. The wilderness is terrible, loathsome. He can spout the Bible but can he actually save a pirate from being hanged right before his very eyes?

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Lucy Jane Bledsoe’s “The House on the Coast” (Crab Orchard Review, Vol. 19, No. 2: THE WEST COAST & BEYOND)

Crab Orchard Review: In its 20th year of publication, an Icon of Literary Publishing

Crab Orchard Review: In its 20th year of publication, an Icon of Literary Publishing

Self is starting with the first short story, by Lucy Jane Bledsoe, “The House on the Coast.”

SPOILER ALERT!

Backstory: Narrator breaks into a nice house on the coast, decides to raid the wine supply. While she’s resting, a visitor comes by, who turns out to be the estranged daughter of the house’s owners. The daughter, whose name is Henrietta, tells the narrator about the recent death of her three-year-old.

“I’m a perfect candidate for a crystal meth habit. I’ll do anything to interrupt the — ”

“Pain,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said.

She did that hand-waving gesture of hers. “What do you think is the next step? Call my parents?”

I didn’t have a clue how to answer.

“They never met her,” she said. “They did ask. I just never thought they asked genuinely enough. I have to live with that, that I kept her from them. I’m sorry.” She looked up at me, her eyes flashing and her thin-lipped mouth open with grief. “The two most stupid words in the language.”

The next short story in this issue of the Crab Orchard Review is Alex Colin-Shotwell’s “Strike-Slip.” It begins:

You’re up on the roof of a house in the Hollywood Hills and you’re surrounded by a darkness so palpable you can almost wear it.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Muse 5: Still Writing in Annaghmakerrig

Stayed up all night, writing. Well, mebbe self did catch two hours. But at 6 a.m. this morning, she was back at her desk:

Crushing the Writing: Thursday, 2 July

Crushing the Writing: Thursday, 2 July

Self finds tremendous solace in being able to take a walk in the afternoons and evenings:

The Gate to the Meadow

The Gate to the Meadow

So, even though she is not sleeping, she is still in calm, meditative mode.

Of course, it always helps if the surroundings are as lushly green as they are here in Annaghmakerrig, Ireland!

The Meadow by the Lake at Annaghmakerrig

The Meadow by the Lake at Annaghmakerrig

Yesterday, self saw a whole hillside populated with Jersey cows (at least, she thinks that’s what they call those black-and-white-spotted dairy cows). Self is so amused by these animals.

What if she bought her own herd of dairy cows? She loves Irish cream. It is the best cream in the whole world.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Muse 4: Swans! At the Lake in Annaghmakerrig!

Today, after a hard day of writing, self walked down to the lake:

Swan Sighting at the Lake!

Swan Sighting at the Lake!

And saw her first swans! (Actually, that’s not quite right. She was down at the lake yesterday evening, and saw swans then, too)

Self will share with dear blog readers that it was because of the swans she saw in Ireland that she wrote a story called “The Ark.” And, earlier this year, it was published by Local Nomad. Which, self just wants to say, is a really beautiful on-line journal. And it is all done by one woman: Jean Vengua.

Her story begins thus:

There were great stores of food laid up, for Noah knew that the flood would last a long time. The hull began to groan with the weight, intensifying his anxiety.

Two Swans!

Two Swans!

And here are swans, diving for food:

DSCN0430

And now, back to the writing desk!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Jessamine, CLOCKWORK PRINCE

Self has been absolutely crushing the writing. Crushing it.

She added pirate raids, defensive maneuvers, gun battles, bonfires and other exceedingly dramatic mayhem to her WIP.

Finally, at 5 p.m., she settles in for a refreshing dip into The Infernal Devices. Which happens to be p. 261 of Clockwork Prince. Which happens to feature dialogue with Jessamine at the dinner table of the London Institute (Jessamine is one of self’s all-time favorite TID characters!)

Will regarded Henry from beneath half-lidded eyes. “Nothing ever disturbs your circles, does it, Henry?”

Henry blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Archimedes,” Jem said, as usual knowing what Will meant, though not looking at him. “He was drawing a mathematical diagram in the sand when his city was attacked by Romans. He was so intent on what he was doing that he didn’t see the soldier coming up behind him. His last words were, ‘Do not disturb my circles.’ Of course, he was an old man by then.”

“And he was probably never married,” said Will, and he grinned at Jem across the table.

Jem didn’t return his grin. Without looking at Will, or Tessa — without looking at any of them — he got to his feet and went out of the room after Charlotte.

“Oh, bother,” said Jessamine “Is this one of those days where we all stalk out in a fury? Because I simply haven’t got the energy for it.”

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Muse 3: More From Annaghmakerrig

Another from last night’s walk around the grounds of the Tyrone Guthrie Centre (This place is absolute balm for self’s spirit):

DSCN0356

What is it, exactly, about this place? The light? The surroundings? Knowing other artists are just a shout away? Ireland? She is exceedingly grateful for every day that she wakes up here.

It’s a gorgeous time of year. Flowers are blooming:

Flowers growing from atop a low stone wall . . .

Flowers growing from atop a low stone wall . . .

More of the Same (Just From Another Angle)

More of the Same (Just From Another Angle)

Today is #AgentsDay on Twitter. So many authors are grateful to their agents, which is nice.

This is not a pursuit self feels she can successfully engage in. (Optimism does not come naturally to self!)

It is also, interestingly enough, #askELJames Day on Twitter. And the questions! The questions!

When self was in London, a few weeks ago, she saw a huge Fifty Shades of Grey poster (a still from the movie) that covered an entire building. How’s that for making a statement? Jaw-drop time.

Jamie Dornan has quite a good back. Self’s just saying.

(Now, how did self get from Annaghmakerrig to Fifty Shades? No idea)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Muse 2: Tryone Guthrie Centre, Annaghmakerrig

This week’s WordPress Photo Challenge is MUSE.

This is self’s second time at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre in Annaghmakerrig. She came back because she did so much good work when she was here last year, in May.

This year, she has a novel to finish. It’s very slow going, but she’s lucky she can get to work on it here.

Last night, self decided to take a walk. The sun doesn’t set until 10 p.m. or thereabouts, which is quite a thrill: more daylight hours, yes!!!

Last year, she remembers there was a little flock of swans that used to hang out by the lake. But she hasn’t seen one, not one, since she got here. Perhaps it’s the season.

No More Swans

No More Swans

Anyhoo, self loves being underneath the giant trees. You don’t understand green — all the varying shades of it — until you’ve been to Ireland.

Trees, Summer Evening

Trees, Summer Evening

And there are woods out here, so many woods. So far, she’s had very little time to explore. Hopefully, later, she will.

The woods last night. Such spindly tree trunks! Nothing at all like the woods up by Mendocino.

The woods last night. Such spindly tree trunks! Nothing at all like the woods up by Mendocino.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Muse: WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge

This week’s WordPress Photo Challenge is MUSE.

What is a MUSE? A source of inspiration.

In Greek and Roman mythology, the muses were nine goddesses, daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, who presided over the arts and sciences.

Books are self’s inspiration (muse):

My Writing Studio in the Cottage in the Tyrone Guthrie Centre, Annaghamakerrig

Self’s Writing Studio in her Cottage in the Tyrone Guthrie Centre, Annaghamakerrig

The Virginia Woolf book is from the bookshelves in her cottage. The other book is self’s personal copy, which she’s been bringing along with her everywhere because her novel-in-progress is set in 18th century Spain:

Reading for Self's Novel-In-Progress

Reading for Self’s Novel-In-Progress

And traveling, of course, is a constant source of inspiration.

Self took the picture below when she was with poet Joan McGavin, who took her to a demonstration near Lambeth Bridge (on June 17), calling for more action on climate change:

Houses of Parliament, Viewed from the South Bank, London, June 17

Houses of Parliament, Viewed from the South Bank, London, June 17

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Quote of the Day: Judith Barrington

from Judith Barrington’s classic Writing the Memoir

  • What we really need . . . are new images of of what it means to be a writer: images that include healthy food, exercise, a sane attitude, and a tranquil soul — all of which are surely more compatible with great writing than is being a physical and mental wreck. We need to encourage one another in these directions and reject the old stereotypes; we must remind one another that fighting with our families or suffering through a love affair that denigrates us are not essential pastimes for a writer. After all, writing is hard enough without adding alcoholism, drug addiction and angst to the qualifications. There is no evidence that good writing requires any of them. What writing does is require that we nurture the stamina it takes to work hard and that we stay fully conscious — and alive.

— Chapter 11 of Writing the Memoir (“Watch Out for the Myths”)

Self Wrote a Story About Climate Change: “The Freeze”

Apocalyptic, Dystopian, blah blah blah

The world is slowly dying, and — there’s no way to explain why an old woman is the only one in her family who survives, and why she ends up riding piggy-back on a teen-age boy (Hunger Games Catching Fire was an influence. Definitely:  Finnick and Mags) and they decide to follow Highway 1 as far south as they can. No electricity, no cars, no telephones. Just — the very edge of despair. Funny, she writes science fiction but her stories are pretty low on the science. Maybe she should start referring to them as allegories.

It was probably the Russians. Putin called Obama’s bluff, or maybe it was the other way around. The outcome — we were the outcome.

How still he was in the last broadcast. His suit looked too big for him. His hair had gone entirely gray. Funny, Obama had been young just six years ago.

— published by Bluestem, Spring 2015 Issue

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