“The time has come,” Sir Waters said,
“To write of many things:
Of fools—and wits—and silly facts—
Of skirmishes—and dreams—
And why the sun is frigid cold—
And whether pigs have queens.”
I’d apologize to Lewis Carroll for the warping I have done to his poem, had I not felt his poems had warped my own mind and that he owed me for the damages. Not that my mind was a glorious thing to begin with, mind you. It’s just all I got.
A few random thoughts:
As might be noticed from the lists on Science Fiction and Horror novels, I’ve transposed the titles I wanted to ruse with a title from a Vincent Price movie. Respectively, I confused Last Man on Earth with I am Legend and The House on Haunted Hill with The Haunting of Hill House. The mistakes were, of course, deeply regrettable, but do come with a deeper meaning.
No, not that I’m scatter-brained. Don’t be silly. I mean something more plausible.
Vincent Price is trying to contact me from the Great Beyond.
No doubt to suggest a nice painting or two for me to buy.
Most people would be elated or disturbed by connections to the Spirit World. Me, I’m just glad Price has gotten Ed Wood to shut up. Now all I have to do is figure out what I’m going to do with all the angora sweaters Woods made me purchase and I’ll be all set.
It’s fast approaching. The one month a year I’m almost guaranteed to finish a long work. That’s right: National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). And this year, I swear, will be better than last year.
This time, I’m going to have an outline ready. I will follow the outline. I will get a semi-respectable novel finished. I will, after fixing the COUNTLESS GAFFS I WILL NO DOUBT MAKE, send the resulting work end and get my career started, finally and at the last. Nineteen years of farting around is far, far too long.
Now all I have to do is determine what type of novel I’m writing. I’m torn between doing a Lord of the Rings style fantasy, a Murder Mystery set on a fantasy Earth, a Dirty Dozen style tale set in a fantasy world, or remaking my sad, sad first novel. Right now each seems viable, so I’m going to work on outlines on each and chose when the day arises, based on which outlines I have finished.
Who wants to bet I actually get outlines done and not end up winging it for a second NaNoWriMo?
Not too surprising.
I really, really don’t want to turn into one of those catty bloggers making nasty nosies about celebrities. However, a news item popped up that I felt I must comment on. Because, of course, everyone is ever so very interested in what I think about famous people.
From Yahoo Music: Paris Hilton, she of Internet porn infamy, is releasing an album of what some are calling music. It will be entitled, surprisingly enough, Paris. As if France didn’t didn’t have enough hate heading its way.
What? Wait. You’re saying she titled the album after herself? Get outta town!
In fairness, of course, a lot of other artists do this. And, also, trying to be fair, for all I know, her music will be… well, not eardrum piercing. Tolerable to small animals, say.
Here’s the part of the article that set me off:
I, like, cry, when I listen to it, it’s so good.
I feel for you, dearie. I, like, wept too, when I heard you were trying to be a singer.
What do people see in her? I mean, really? When did callow become attractive? Or is it just me and she really a peach?
In the next few days, I will be adding more content that actually fits this site.
This content will include some new Fantastic Writers essays. I’d like to have one for Mary Shelley and one for Richard Matheson. More may be on the way, as there are a lot of writers out there I’d like to talk about.
Also, I’d like to finish up some of these unfinished series of articles I have. They’re starting to build significantly, and that’s annoying. I hate it when a writer starts something and never gets done with it, and I hate that I’m one of those writers.
As always, these plans will or will not come to fruition solely based on whim and whim alone. Welltun Cares Presents was not built on rational thought, as the Henry the Eighth episode no doubt proves.