Good Glittery (but not pink) Luck

            Popping in for a spell just to let y’all know what’s up.

So my computer broke horribly a few months ago. After having the PC get first lost, and then all but <i>stolen</i> by the local technician in whom I had placed my trust to remedy the matter, I finally recovered my machine and got the darn thing sent into the manufacturer to get a repair estimate. I was promptly told that the cost of a repair would be roughly equal to the cost of a brand new laptop—as in, a repair would cost me $691.00. Fuck that shit. To me it was clear that getting a brand new machine would be a better buy, so after months of scrounging and saving and overclocking at work, I bought a new laptop.  

            Finally, right?

            The process of purchasing said laptop took all of today and most of the past few weeks. It’s sorta been my pet project (although since I’m OCD it was less of a pet and more of a crotchety Viking dragon bent on eating my soul toes-first, but lets not split hairs). My time has been monopolized by rallying all my techy buddies from work and school, pleading with them to advise me on which brands to pursue, scouring the internet for customer reviews, looking at consumer reports, harassing every store in town to shop prices, and finally deciding on what I wanted: a Sony Vaio, colored pink.

            Unfortunately, every store in town was out of stock of the pink model but one, and their lone pink PC lacked the BluRay player that came standard with the other, more mundanely colored models. Seeing as how this BluRay-less pink version cost the same amount at the black and white versions that had the BluRay players, I deduced that the pink did not, alas, possess the most technical bang for my buck (although its sheer fabulosity sorely tempted my lust for all things hysterical, as if had been made to spite my otherwise frugal nature).

But, I was not to be deterred. There was always the internet. I hoped to order a PC that possessed a BluRay player (and also happened to be pink, and also happened to be the exact model I wanted) straight from the manufacturer. However, in my search I discovered something saddening: the pink model with the BluRay player has been temporarily discontinued. My world devolved into a realm characterized by horror and lack of glitter.

At first I wanted to wait for them to bring the pink back out, but since there’s no telling when that will, if ever, happen, and since I need the laptop for school in less than a week and I’m an impatient fucker, I went with a more professional black model. This is probably for the best, seeing as how I was getting the pink mainly in order to be  more obnoxious than I already am, and I don’t exactly need help in that department. I do mourn the lack of pink to some degree, but the computer I ended up with I can tell is destined for greatness (not to mention a coat of glitter varnish), so… no great loss. I’ll glam it up myself, no problem.

“But wait,” you’re probably asking, “why the hell am I supposed to care about your stupid pink PC and tendency toward the overuse of sparkly art supplies?”

That’s sort of a trick question, because you probably won’t care even when I tell you that the computer is being shipped to me and it should be at my home in only a few days—and that means Future Talk will be starting back up again!

            I plan on reviving the weekly updates starting very, very soon. I have about 4,000 words of the next chapter typed out and it shouldn’t take me long to start being more productive. Knock on wood and cross your fingers; the end is nigh just in time for FT’s two year anniversary!

            …dear god, people. Future Talk is turning TWO. I feel old.

My Expression of Thanks

 I'm writing this because "silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone," and I am unquestionably, unconditionally, openly, honestly, infinitely grateful. Quote by GB Stern.


So I woke up this morning and was assailed by the usual craziness: Mother wanted me to run a billion errands, there were extensive and complex Xmas eve and morning menus to be planned, there were last minute Xmas gifts that needed getting... you know, the usual holiday spiel of running around like a chicken with a severed head and getting nowhere, fast. I tried to bear the strain like a champ, of course, but it's hard sometimes. Mom has OCD and so things need to be done in a rather particular fashion, lines are long, don't even talk about how stressing it can be to go out in last-minute holiday traffic, and I find those felt reindeer horns people put on their cars to be terribly distracting. All of this is a recipe for disaster, so when I finally--finally!--got home a few minutes ago and was able to sit down for the first time in hours, I let out the most massive sigh of relief in recorded history.


This sigh was followed by me bursting into tears.


Before you go, "Oh no!", I need to clarify just what kind of tears these were. These were flabbergasted tears, ones that were as happy as a fat kid in a candy store and just as grateful, too, because when I checked my DA account and found a note from 13LuckyWishes that contained this link...


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZC5ka9SlmXE&context=C3486006ADOEgsToPDskInyY9eTC1IFUW_zvwVe764


Good lord in heaven, y'all. Good lord in heaven.


I don't think I can begin to tell you how I feel about this. I can throw out all the synonyms for "happy" the thesaurus cares to list (ecstatic, delighted, thrilled), and all the synonyms for "grateful" (indebted, appreciative, thankful) and "surprised" (stunned, amazed, bamboozled) and "overwhelmed" (engulfed, inundated, moved), too, but no matter how many times I repeat those words I don't think I can ever come close to expressing the sheer magnitude of how I feel about this. Words have failed me. That is unusual for me. I can't begin to know how to handle this influx of sheer WOW.


Because WOW, guys.


When we drove out to Nana's house a few days ago for Christmas, and Mom and I got to talking. It was just the two of us, alone on a seven hour drive. Like we normally do, conversation drifted to the subject of just what the hell I'm going to do with myself after college. Mom still isn't on board with the whole novelist venture; she thinks it's too long of a shot, and she wants me to go with something safer. I ended up talking to her about fanfiction--or, more specifically, I ended up talking to her about you guys, and what you've done for me. I told her about how many of you have asked when and if I'm going to put out a book, so you can read it. I told her about how when I said I had submitted my piece for publication, you asked to be kept posted so you can support me if my work is accepted. I told her about all the nice things you've said to me over the years, and about how supportive and kind you have been, but most of all I told her about the confidence you've given me. I am 100% certain that without having known you, I would not be the writer I am. You've changed me, for good. I am a writer who still needs to grow so, so much, but I am also a writer who knows that someone, somewhere, believes in me. 


It's funny. When Nana or another member of my family says they think I can get somewhere with my writing, I just can't bring myself to believe them. After all, they're related to me. They love me by automatic virtue of our shared blood. They HAVE to say they think I can succeed. That might be unfair of me, but when your mother says you're the prettiest girl in the world, it can be hard to take her at face value. All mothers think the world of their children.


It's different with you, though. It was when you guys embraced me with open arms and started saying I could do it that I really and truly started to believe in myself. You aren't connected to me. I've only met one or two of you in real life. You have no obligation to be kind to me, just as you have no obligation to even acknowledge my very small existence. The fact that you DO treat me with kindness, the fact that you DO take an interest in me, the fact that you DO tell me I can make something of myself, all without ever having met me or having any sort of obligation at all--that's a powerful, humbling, joyous thing. 


Without you... well. I don't really want to think about it. Confidence has never come easily to me. You have changed the way I view myself. You have excelled in a field in which few others have ever succeeded. 


Thank you. I can never thank you enough.


You changed someone else, too. This video, coming just a few days on the heels of that conversation with my mother, changed the way she looked at my dream. I showed her the video and the loving words in the description, and she said: "They really think you can do this, don't they?" I can't tell you how long I've waited for her to acknowledge my writing, and today she did--because of you guys. Thank you 13LuckyWishes for going to the trouble of making the video, thanks to all the contributors who donated their work to make the video possible, thank all of you for believing in me and saying such nice things even though I don't know how you stand my shenanigans sometimes, thank you for being so helpful and receptive and open to my strange ideas, thank you for the love and the joy of knowing all of you, thank you thank you thank you--


THANK YOU.


Since most of the words in the English language have failed me at this juncture, those are the ones--as inadequate as they most certainly are--that I am going to stick to.

Prompting Practice!

So,  has been doing this great thing—namely, asking for words, one-liners, scenarios, or just general ideas to use as story prompts. I bring this up because I just got my syllabus for my next fiction workshop class, and we're devoting a week to prompt-work. I've never really done that before, so practice would be super nice. Think y'all could help me out? Please?  

I'm looking for mini-scenarios, lines of dialogue, objects to work into a story, themes, images, a tiny detail, characters… just anything around which I can build a story. Some of what I produce might be flash fiction (500 words), or it might turn into something bigger. Who knows! My imagination is my oyster! 

I promise to share my work!  If, you know, you'd like to see it and suchlike, of course…

…Ipromisetoupdatemystoriessoon…

(*crawls under a rock*)

 Y'all're so great. THANK YOU! 

The Happiest Halloween

So I have news.

BIG NEWS.

                As you all know, I haven’t been living at my college—I’ve been living at home. I have, however, been taking one course through long-distance methods. Correspondence work is not something my school allows very often, but then again, not too many people have as masterful a Puppy Face as I do, so they were helpless to resist my onslaught of pleading and watery eyes. (It didn’t hurt that my academic advisor just so happened to be the professor of the class I wanted to take and that I’m on her good side, either, but I’d like to think it was my skill that persuaded the administration so please, just let me have this!)

                At any rate, my advisor fought for me, and I’ve been writing nonfiction essays for her all term. I send them in, she sends me her comments along with comments my peers in the actual, physical class have to say about my work—it’s great. I worked on a piece last weekend and sent it in yesterday in the late afternoon. She typically doesn’t get back to me for a few days, BUT—

                But when I checked my email this morning… I found an email from her, sent last night around 10 PM. After saying that there were a few issues to work out insofar as syntax goes and that she’d like to see just a hint more of myself in the piece, she wrote something along the lines of this in closing:

                “This work is very nearly publishable. The language is beautiful; the piece is stunningly well-written and the arc of the story is both clear and self-contained. The description is especially marvelous. I can picture this being published in several different nonfiction and essay journals. I’ll compile a list of the ones I believe would accept your piece; we’ll work through the few issues this piece has left to consider together and discuss your options. I would very much like to help you get this piece on the market!”

                OMG WTF MY PROFESSOR THINKS I’M WORTH A FUSS!

                I’m giddy right now. Positively giddy. GIDDY.

                KYAHAAAAAAA!

               Now, I know this isn’t anything definite yet. It’s an offer of help, not a guarantee that my piece will get published. But, but, but the fact that someone of authority thinks I have a chance—that someone of authority thinks I’m worth it—that someone of authority wants to help me because they believe in the integrity of my work—

                Oh my god, guys. Oh. My god.

                This is my first step on the road toward realizing my dream.

Mad, Mad World

                So basically everything in my life right now is weird.

                Not bad weird—just different weird. And since I’ve been horribly horrible to everyone with my weird MIA-ness, I feel like I owe you guys another explanation. Of sorts. Ish. I guess it’s more like a “Georgia’s Life Update” than anything else, and while I know hearing me rant about my life is probably not on everyone’s list of top priorities, I still feel like I owe you this much at the very, most idiotic least.

                Anyway, time for a handy-dandy recap. As of my last post I was:

--living on the family farm

--in possession of a broken, missing laptop that had been sent off to a computer-fixer

--30 miles from the nearest source of internet

--taking a term off from school

--communing with nature

                Many of these things have changed. Several of these things have stayed the same. Let’s break it down.

--in possession of a broken, missing laptop that had been sent off to a computer-fixer

                This has not changed. The laptop is still being ‘fixed’. Haven’t heard from the guy in forever. Maybe he and my Toshiba eloped?

                If anyone has any recommendations for good quality laptops that DON’T easily break, let me know. I’ve heard Sony Vaios are nice?

--living on the family farm

--30 miles from the nearest source of internet

--communing with nature

                All of these have changed. I am now a city kid once more, as of about a week and a half ago. I’m not sure how I feel about this. See, the drought got so bad that we had to sell off all our cattle. We used the money from the sale to pay off current debts; we’re waiting on a good rain before buying back into the market. My grandparents have money to live on and my parents are both employed, so financial problems are (momentarily) in limbo.

                Living at home isn’t too fun. I got a job, of course (because I wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing and have my parents pay for it), but the job isn’t a very good one and I’m bored pretty much all the damn day. When I applied to be a security guard I thought I’d be seeing some cool stuff, but noooo, I basically sit behind a desk watching monitors for hours on end. I’m not allowed to use the computer to type or access the internet because I’m supposed to be watching the two-dozen screens that compromise my little kingdom like a hawk. Gag.

                The bright side is that I’ve learned that people do really silly things when they don’t know they’re being watched. I can’t even begin to count the number of noses and wedgies I’ve seen picked during my stint.

                Moving on. The good news is—dun dahdah DAH!—I now have regular access to a computer… that I share with my parents and, on occasion, my sister. It’s not the most private of computers so writing can be a bit, uh, public (I’m a nervous writer, I’ve found), but I plan on getting out a chapter of “Future Talk” ASAP. Now to find the hours when no one is around to bother me… hmm…

                I think the worst part about being 21 years old and living at home is the part where your parents forget you’re 21years old and don’t let you order a glass of wine with dinner and expect you to be home and in bed by midnight on a Saturday.

--taking a term off from school

                This hasn’t changed, but it also has. Weird, right? Right. Basically what’s happened is that I applied to and was summarily accepted into an honors program, in which I’m basically going to write a short book’s worth of nonfiction about what it’s like to live in a rural environment. This came about because I had to call my school to sign up for next semester’s classes and they were worried I was wasting time while living at home. So, when they asked what I had been up to and I mentioned the 200 pages of hand-written nonfiction I talked about in my last post, they said that sounded similar to an honor’s project someone wrote a few years back about living on a farm in Alabama. They told me to apply; I applied; I was accepted. I’m getting credit for the work I did just because I couldn’t do anything else! It’s awesome!

                … I’m not a lazy ass, I swear.

                So, there you have it. I’m at home, doing long-distance schoolwork, and having quasi-regular date nights with my dear old friend, the internet. Fabulous.

                I think the whole security-guard thing is what’s making me update” Freelance” so often. But, I know I need to finish FT and I am aiming to make it, again, my number one priority. Hopefully I’ll be back into an updating schedule soon, and hopefully we’ll put this darn story to rest once and for all!

                Yours truly, apologetically, and optimistically,

                                                                Graph

Here I Am

                So.

                I’m totally OK. My health is robust. Its robustness would astound you, in fact. I’m getting fresh air and sunshine aplenty, and while it does grow colder by the day, I’m spending most of my time outdoors where nature and I can commune. Our communing can be most obviously observed in my allergies, which manifest in constant sneezing and eyes too watery to line properly, but that’s Mother Nature for ya.

                Speaking of Mother Nature… she’s a bit of a bitch when you get right down to it.

                Now, I have no idea where you lot live—and by “you lot” I mean all you fantastics who read my writing here on the vast realm of the internet—but I live in the southern part of the United States. Specifically, I live in Texas, which has been going through the biggest drought in pretty much EVER.

                The reason I’m bringing this up is because my family is, predominantly, made up of cattle ranchers. My grandparents make their living in the cattle business, as do the majority of my aunts and uncles and cousins, and this drought has all but shattered our livelihood. Nothing will grow for the cows to eat so we have to spend untold amounts of money on cattle feed; the tanks won’t stay full so the cows have nothing to drink, aside from the water we have to buy and truck in for them. We’re sinking very quickly into debt as a result, and because my parents have well-paying jobs outside the industry, they’ve begun channeling their resources into keeping our fifth-generation farm alive.

                And, since we’re cutting back expenses and not hiring any ranch hands, I’ve been delegated a hand myself. I’m taking a semester off of school to work the farm and ease the financial strain on my mom and dad, and let me tell ya, when you’re fifty miles from the nearest city, writing can be hard to do.

                I’d like to apologize for my disappearance. I didn’t mean to drop off the face of the earth like that, but my computer broke and then I got shipped off to the farm before it was fixed… my grandparents don’t have the internet, or even a computer on which I can type, so the only internet access I get is if I go to a friend’s or relative’s house, or if I drive to the library. It’s incredibly difficult to manage all of this, but I’ve been writing in my notebook and as soon as I have more time with a computer I’ll convert that text into type, I swear.

                The good news is that the southernmost and easternmost parts of Texas are looking like they’ll be getting rain soon, and hopefully that’ll drift on up to the ranch in the next month or so.  

                More good news comes in the fact that I’ve written almost two hundred pages of short story, original fiction, BY HAND IN THE LAST MONTH. This place really brings out the best in my creative drive. I’ve been drawing a lot, too, and I’ll upload some of my new stuff soon to share. The library has a scanner, it turns out! YAY!

                Final piece of good news: Mom, still in the city, says she’s taken my laptop to get fixed for cheap by a family friend. Hopefully I’ll have it soon, and hopefully FT will get back on its feet.

                As much as I hate not being able to finish FT right now, I love being on the farm. I plan on talking about it soon.

                Thanks so much, all, for putting up with me and my shenanigans.

Houston, We Have a Computer Problem

                My computer keeps randomly shutting down for no reason while I’m in the middle of working. Hence, writing FT has been super slow because I keep losing text. I routinely back it up online, but I still lose chunks here and there and IT’S SUPER INFURIATING. But, never fear, I’ll have the chapter up soon and we’ll still have a new one up Sunday as well. I’m planning on taking my laptop to a technician this week; hopefully they’ll be able to tell me what’s wrong and fix the problem before I go back to school on September 2nd.

                In other less stupidly infuriating news, I got a tattoo. GASP. I designed it myself and my artist refined it to be tattoo-able; will post pics eventually.

                Love you guys! 

New DA Account for Fanfic Chapters!

I've decided that I'm going to post chapters of my fics here on deviantART! 

This is going to be an arduous task, as you may well imagine (FT alone is over 70 chapters along at this point) and it's going to take up a lot of room in my gallery... which is why I've made another account entirely to house my almost-but-not-quite-a-library of fics.

The new account (with a really not-creative spin on my old icon) can be found by clicking the little hand I've somehow manged to paste into this post. 


The 'FF' after 'Graphospasm' stands for 'fanfiction'. I'm not terribly original with names. -_-;

I'm going to super-edit all of my chapters before posting--and by "super edit", I mean I'M GOING TO EDIT THE SHIT OUT OF THEM. To that end, if any of you like a particular chapter and would like to volunteer to edit/beta/mock/deface/vandalize/give me notes on it, I'd probably kiss your feet and weave a garland of flowers to adorn your generous hair. I know it's a lot to ask, but since I'm still writing the damn story editing the earlier chapters will take me a while. -_-; Any and all help is appreciated, though only if you're, like, bored and have nothing better to do, OK? I don't want to take up your time more than I already do with my constant weirdness!

Anywho, I love you guys to pieces, and the new FT chapter will (hopefully) be out within an hour or two when I get home from work and have access to a (hopefully) working FFNet.

--G 

FFNet being weird???

Is anyone else having problems uploading new chapters on FFNet? Because I've been trying all night/this morning, and I can't get the new FT chapter to post! I can't edit my profile or story summaries, either.

If anyone knows what's going on, has been having similar problems, or just wants to tell me NOT to rip my hair out, I'd appreciate it. Because I currently look something like this:

It's not a pretty picture, as you can so plainly see.

I Am A Unicorn, Apparently

I’m sure everyone who reads this blog or knows me as a person knows that I attended ACen 2011, an anime convention of epic proportions held up in the hallowed suburbs of Chicago. I’m also sure that everyone who reads this blog or knows me as a person knows that I took a lot of pictures at said convention, because I’m one of those obnoxious people who likes to show my friends my lame-ass photography as if it were something worthy of a Pulitzer. If you didn’t know that, it’s obviously because you haven’t trolled this blog’s archives (yet), because there was a post about it. Look it up.

Anyway, I’ve decided that I need to write a little something about the spectacle—a requisite this-was-a-huge-deal-to-me-so-therefore-everyone-else-MUST-care type of post. I mean, it was three whole days of my life, ones shared by what might have been the largest crowd I’ve been in since I went to the World Series with my dad in ’05, so it has to count for something. Maybe. I’m not really sure. All I know is that I’m going to jump right into it; there’s really no other way to start.

Aside from barely eating because the hotel’s food was way overpriced, meeting some rather interesting individuals who just so happened to live in my college town, and getting told I was a “unicorn” (more on that later), ACen was a fairly normal situation. I’d known it would be packed, but with 20,000 people coming in and out of the convention center every day, it felt even bigger than I’d anticipated and, oh wow, I had NOT expected most of the crowd to be dressed up as various fictional characters (a surprising amount of which were NOT from anime). I’d known some of them would be, of course, but I’d thought they’d be in the minority—was I ever more wrong-o in my life? NO. I was most definitely not.

Most people had dressed up in something, be it character-based cosplay, steampunk cosplay, or the guy running around in a suit of samurai armor made out of Cheez-It boxes. There was something for just about everyone—Doctor Who, Kingdom Hearts, and even a Big Daddy from the Bioshock games (turns out, the older sister of the girl who was in the suit goes to my school; small world). I actually felt rather out of place in my civilian clothes: jeans, a tanktop, and sneakers.

Funnily enough, though… the plainclothes actually helped me stand out, at one point.

I was wandering through the artist’s alley taking pictures and looking for Yu Yu Hakusho swag when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around. Standing before me was a cute guy who also wore civilian clothing. I had no idea what he wanted and gave him a blank, nervous stare, to which he returned a winning smile.

“Can I take your picture?” he asked, hefting a point-n’-shoot Canon.

I stared at him for a moment, utterly taken aback. Then I said: “I’m not dressed up as anything.”

He smiled.  “I know.”

“Oh,” I said. “OK.”

I was a bit dazed and didn’t think to question his nonsensical answer, so I stepped back and flashed him a peace sign and a grin, waiting for him to snap the pic… but then I frowned as the weirdness of the situation hit me.

“Wait a minute—this isn’t one of those take-a-picture-of-an-ugly-girl scavenger hunts, is it?” I asked, voice full of suspicion. “Because someone at my school did that to a friend of mine last year and I—”

He looked appalled. “That’s not it, I swear!” he protested.

“Then what is it?” I wanted to know.

He paused for a second. I could see the wheels turning in his head. Obviously he had some explaining to do and was wondering just exactly how to do it.

His answer was not what I expected.

“You,” he said, looking me dead in the eye, “are a unicorn.”

Predictably, I stared him. In shock. Because just what the hell was that supposed to mean?

“You are!” he said when I didn’t agree with him. “You’re a unicorn!”

“Uh… how do you reckon?” I managed. A unicorn? Me? Is this guy smoking something? … does he share?

                “Well, me and my buddies have a bet going on,” he said. “One of them doesn’t believe that there are any attractive girls at the con who aren’t dressed up as something, and it’s true that they’re rare—they’re like unicorns.” He waved a hand, indicating my general personage. “Ergo, you’re a unicorn, and since no one believes you exist, I need proof that you’re real if I want people to take me seriously!”

                I started laughing at that point. He snapped the picture, shook my hand, and walked away.

                “That better not end up on 4chan!” I yelled after him.

                He turned around long enough to put his hands to his face in mock-horror. “Whoops!” he yelled, and he vanished into the crowd.

                Afterwards I went home and tape an icecream cone to my forehead and covered myself in glitter. Like a boss. And it looked something like this:

Word up, bitches.

I'm an Idiot

I'm the biggest freaking idiot on the face of this planet.

I wrote the ENTIRE next Future Talk chapter, only to get ready to post it and realize that I left out a HUGE part of it, and without that part the rest of the ending won't make a lick of sense. I am so mad at myself I could just spit.

Suffice to say, FT probably won't be ready to be posted until tomorrow afternoon. I worked my butt off today and don't have nearly enough to show for it. Sorry guys. This was massive error on my part, plain and simple.

How Not to Write Your Profile

I feel really preachy, writing this, but I still feel like it needs to be written.

                When I click on an FFnet user’s profile, I typically take a look at the scroll bar on my screen’s left hand side. Most of the time it’s tiny, indicating that the user either has a hundred stories posted, or has been posting “I’m one of the 2% of teens that doesn’t smoke pot”-type of chain junk until their profile says nothing more about them other than how they like to copy stuff from other people. It’s usually the latter scenario, and to be perfectly honest, I usually don’t even give that stuff a chance. I click the “hide profile” option as soon as I see that tiny cursor.

                I’m of the minimalist’s camp, you see. On my profile I post the stuff people actually need to know. I don’t waste space on copy-paste junk, I don’t chatter about myself, I don’t hold conversations with fictional characters. I put my contact info, links to my other web pages, a brief about-me section that’s only a paragraph long, and the chunk that by far takes up the most room of all: links to the pages of people who have drawn art based on my stories. Recently I’ve added a small blurb that contains a link to a short story that welcomes people into my world, plus a section with links to my blogpages that contain tutorials on various subjects, but I’ve tried to keep my profile as concise and clutter-free as possible. I don’t even have a quote section! OMG! I just have a single e.e. cummings quote at the bottom of my page because it’s inspirational and is probably the single most meaningful quote in the entire world, at least from my perspective.

                Anyway, I feel like I’m acting all superior and insufferable right now, so I’m going to stop talking about myself. My overall point is basically that profiles that have miles of meaningless crap on them aren’t making you stand out or seem unique. Most people just skip them. Your profile should say a lot about you as a person, but by posting that you’re one of the two percent of teens who don’t smoke pot, you’re actually blending in to a very large crowd. You’re also a part of a large crowd by having a list of generic personal information that looks like this:

                Name: I can’t tell you that, you stalker!

                Age: Between 1 and 100, you stalker!

                Gender: I’m a girl, duh!

                …and so on, and so on. Everyone does that. Break free of the mold! Be unique! I know you can do it!

                (If this applies to you and you’re at all offended, I apologize! I’m sure you’re terribly unique and awesome, and I’m sure that some exceptionally long profiles don’t fall into my assessment of long profiles, but… for the most part, I think my thoughts hold true.)

Graphospasm’s Ludicrous Attempt at Teaching People how to Format Dialogue

Let’s take a look at this sentence:

“My name is Rolando,” he said in a loud voice.

                Look at it. Read it. Read it hard. I want you to take very special note of how there are two parts to this single sentence. Yes. There are two parts to one sentence.  Two of them! Two! But it’s still just one sentence. With two parts. Are you getting this?

Part #1 is the dialogue, which is contained within the “quote” marks. “My name is Rolando.” Read it. Love it. Accept “my name is Rolando” as Part #1.

Part #2 is the modifier of the dialogue. It comes after the “quote” marks. In this case, it is the words he said in a loud voice. Read them. Love them. Accept he said in a loud voice as Part #2.

Obviously, the words in Part #1 are the words being spoken aloud, by a character, in a story, who is speaking aloud. Rolando is introducing himself by saying, “My name is Rolando.” The words are being spoken. Out loud. They are spewing out of Rolando’s sexy Spanish mouth, and you love them. You know you do.

Even more obviously, the words in Part #2 are modifying, or describing, the words in Part #1. They tell us information about the words spoken aloud—in this case, they are telling us that he said them, and not only did he say them, he said them in a loud voice! Without this information, we could lose ourselves in a murky quagmire of confusion for the rest of our days. Is he really the one saying the words? Or is she saying them?! That sneaky strumpet! And is how is he saying them? In what tone is his voice registered; with what emotion does the speaker speak? WHY MUST YOU CONFUSE US SO?!

Ahem.

Remember how Part #1 and Part #2 are still the same sentence? You do? Excellent! Make sure to keep remembering, for later, there will be a test. Rolando will love you forever should you pass, but for now, keep this information in mind to be recalled later, because I need to talk to you about periods.

…

No, not the bloody kind, you sick freak! I’m talking about punctuation periods. They, unlike Mother Nature and her monthly surprise, are your friends.

Only, they’re not. Not really.

Periods are dastardly villains who delight in breaking up families. They hate togetherness of all kinds—especially the togetherness of clauses. They wish to rupture your sentences from the foundation, separating all of your thoughts into distinct chunklets of independent clauses. They do. Really.

Don’t believe me? Well, then. Take a look at this happy family of a sentence:

We are together and we are in love.

Now, take a look at the sentence after a period sneaks its treacherous little hands into it:

We are together. We are in love.

You see? What was once a happy family of two clauses joined together by a conjunction is now a fractured set of two independent clauses! The thoughts are separate! They have nothing to do with one another! The period represents an invisible wall of force that keeps the thoughts from mixing! HORROR OF HORRORS!

Now I want you to recall our little talk about Part #1 and Part #2 of the sentence from earlier. Remember how, even though the parts are separate parts, they are still the same sentence? You do? YES. THANK GOD. ROLANDO LOVES YOU. The reason I ask is because you want Parts 1 & 2 to be together. You want them to be a happy family. You want them to be a unit, one cohesive party, two parts that express one thought, one idea, one concept.

Therefore, THIS IS WRONG: “My name is Rolando.” He said.

Note the unhappy not-togetherness created by the period, which separates the dialogue of Part #1 from the modifying description of Part #2 with its invisible powers of dishonorably evil intent. It creates a fragment of a sentence by separating he said from the dialogue he said should be modifying, and since fragment sentences are of the devil and should be burned, Rolando will be displeased. And that is unnacceptable.

Look at Rolando. Look at him and his grammatic exactitude. You wouldn't want to disappoint those abs--I mean, his standards like that, would you?

No. No, you most certainly would NOT.


Therefore, THIS IS RIGHT: “My name is Rolando,” he said.

Note how the comma very happily brings Part 1 & 2 together. Commas hold hands. They join things up. In dialogue, they are your friends. In dialogue, there’s no place for a period until the very very end of the modifying text—AKA, the end of Part #2!

“Alas!” you find yourself declaring. “What if I desire to use something other than a comma in my dialogue? What if I desire… to use an exclamation point?! WHAT SAY YOU THEN, BRIGAND?!”

Pish posh, says I, for that is child’s play. Watch carefully as I demonstrate many possible variations of dialogue formatting with the greatest of ease, young grasshopper:

“This is how you format dialogue,” he said.

“This is how you format dialogue!” he said.

“Is this how you format dialogue?” he said.

                The first word after the “quoted” dialogue should always be lower case… unless, of course, it’s a proper noun like a name, or is part of a separate sentence. Examples:

“I hate him,” Susan said without inflection. “He stole my dolly.”

“I hate him.” She spoke the words without inflection. “He stole my dolly.”

The modifier ‘she spoke the words without inflection’ deserves a period (which serves a friendly purpose, for once) because it is a complete sentence. It has graduated and moved out of its parents’ house, able to stand on its own as a complete thought. Only complete sentences, never mere fragments like he said, deserve such treatment.

Just remember, my children, my literati, my grammarians the world over… PERIODS HATE DIALOGUE AND WANT TO BREAK UP HAPPY FAMILIES. Do not fall prey to their seductive powers.

Fall prey to Rolando’s, instead.

Grrr-rowl.

Because I'm a Horrible Person...

…I have to delay this week’s update. Again.

Yes, I’m sorry, and yes, things are somewhat complicated in my corner of the world. I’ve been given a huge project at my internship that’s WAY more complicated than someone of my skill level is capable of handling, so I have to learn what exactly the hell it is I’m doing even as I’m trying to accomplish task after task after task with a professional level of proficiency.  

My mother also happened to get a huge blood clot in her side after a long plane ride (she and Dad went to Hawaii for their 30^th wedding anniversary; ain’t that cute?). She’s in a lot of pain and tomorrow I’m actually going to work from a waiting room at a diagnostic center while she gets needles stuck into her. It won’t be fun, but I’ll get it all done, I swear.

What sucks is that the chapter is, like, a thousand words away from being completed, but I just don’t have the energy to do it tonight and I REALLY don’t like the current ending. Therefore, tomorrow. It shall be so.

Again, so sorry, but summer seems less forgiving than the school year when it comes to my scheduling. Who woulda thunk, ya know?

~Jo

A Fan-Ficcer's Guide to Writing Summaries

                Imagine you are in a bookstore; any bookstore will do. Now, imagine you see a book on a display table. It has the most beautiful title to ever roll off your tongue, cover-art that seems to have been drawn by the goddess of the arts herself, and you find yourself drawn to it because, at first glance, it promises to be the best book you’ve ever read. You pick it up; it is the perfect weight, the perfect size, and with reverence and held breath you flip it over to read the summary on the back—

                —but it doesn’t have one.

                The back of the most perfect book in the world… is blank.

                You stare at the empty cover in disbelief. How could this be? You desperately want to know if this book contains something you’ll be interested in reading; you desperately want to know if investing your time and energy into this book is a good idea. Where is the information that will tell you these things? Feeling your heart begin to pound, you open the book to the inside cover, hoping that the book’s summary is hiding there.

                Alas, the inside flap is also blank.

                You begin to panic. This book feels excellent. You want it to be good so badly you can taste it. You want to know if it’s a total waste of time before you start reading it; having to take the book back to the store would be a total hassle. With shaking hands you flip to the back inside cover, praying and hoping that—

                Oh, shit.

                All it says is “plz read & review”.

               (Although the above might be a bit of an exaggeration, that’s what I feel when I see a badly written summary—or, even worse, a fic with no real summary at all. I’ve written a list of some of the things I keep in mind when writing summaries for my stories on fanfiction.net. I've seen a lot of violations of my personal code lately, so I figured someone, somewhere might find this helpful.) 

The Basics:

1.       A summary should be used to tell the readers what your story is about. Giving part of the basic plot and showing what characters are featured are good ways to draw readers into a story.

2.       However, you shouldn’t give away too much for fear of losing the story’s mystery. Tell us the basic conflict, but never the resolution.

3.       Story tags that tell general information about the story are good ideas: AU, OC, OOC, crackfic, pairings, etc. They don’t take up much space, either! However, most of your summary should be dedicated to an actual sentence or two, so if there’s no room for the tags, don’t sweat it too much.

4.       Try to make your summary as unique and attention-grabbing as possible! It’s there to attract readers, so try to make it stand out.

Common Sense:

1.       Make sure your summary is spelled and punctuated correctly, and make sure your sentences are grammatically correct. A summary is the first thing a reader sees when they look at your work, so if your summary is so badly written that it’s almost incomprehensible, readers will likely skip over your work entirely because they’ll assume your story is likewise unreadable.

2.       Watch out for typos! Your summary is only a few sentences long, so if you leave a typo in such a short, easy-to-edit passage, it makes you look sloppy or uncaring. This is also applicable to titles; nothing says “I don’t take the time to proofread” like a misspelled title.  

3.       Avoid chatspeak! It’s terribly unprofessional!

What Not To Say:

1.       Don’t say things like “I suck at summaries” in your summary. If you can’t handle the task of writing a simple summary, it does not bode well for the rest of your writing. A first impression is everything!

2.       Don’t say “the story is better than it sounds”. Your job is to make it sound interesting, so don’t waste space and time on defending yourself when you could be using it to improve your summary.

3.       Don’t say things like “If you don’t review I will never update again” in your summary. You come across as whiny and juvenile and will turn off many readers by acting in such a manner.

4.       Don’t waste your summary space on talking about why you’re writing the story, or what your personal feelings on it are. People want to hear about the story itself so they can figure out whether or not they want to read it. There’s room to talk about other things in an author’s note.

5.       Don't say things like "don't like, don't read" or "no flames". You're only inviting people to flame you, and acting defensive before a reader even has time to judge your story doesn't reflect well on you. Be proud of your story; so what if other people might not agree? Don't give them the satisfaction of getting to you!