Cephalopod & Goals - OCTOBER!

Once again it's time for those "end of month" blog hops I like to participate in. I already posted for Write ... Edit ... Publish, and if you want to check that out, click HERE. But I also need to post for the Cephalopod Coffeehouse Book Club, and the monthly Do You Have Goals? hop.

So here goes.

This month I read more than one great book, and while I was tempted to choose If I Stay as my "book of the month", I opted for this one instead:

I can finally say, "I've read this book!" ... and it's about time! I first read an Isobelle Carmody book after my mum bought me book #1 of the Legendsong back in the late '90s. I LOVED it, and I know I'm not here to talk about Legendsong, but the point I'm making is that Legendsong #1 came out in 1998 or so, and yet it's taken until October 2014 for me to finally pick up my first Obernewtyn book. 

Now that we've got that intro out of the way, I will say that the writing in Obernewtyn #1 did strike me as quite 'young', likely because Carmody was in high school when she wrote the book. I'm interested in finding out how her writing did or did not change across later books, as she grew into an adult. I already know they got increasingly fatter, because while book #1 is very slender, some of the later books are literal tomes.

Despite the 'young'ness of this first episode, I greatly enjoyed it. It's an intriguing world I've entered into, a post-apocalyptic world in which magic is feared, and those in charge try their very best to stamp it out. Those figures of authority are fighting a losing battle, though, because more and more people are being born as "mutant" magic users, rather than the population of freaks getting less as they'd hoped would happen. And some of those 'freaks' are getting sick of living under the oppression their kind has endured for centuries. 

I look forward to learning more about the world of Obernewtyn as I read on with this series.

Last month I shared a picture of my beautiful temp foster kitty George, who is still with me. He's still pretty naughty, and very exasperating, but he's just as cute as he was a month ago. So he's lucky about that. ;) Still, he's one of the reasons I'm still a slacker.

So, yeah, goals? Ummm, I've done a tiny bit of revision work since last month, but nothing much to write home about. And guess what? Tomorrow, NaNoWriMo starts!

In sort of related news that isn't really related, I've almost finished reading Stephen King's On Writing, which has made me realise that there's no need to entirely abandon my pantser ways. ;) Being a pantser is no crime, my friends. If it's good enough for Stephen King, it's good enough for me. Ha!

Seriously though, I suck at editing this year.

Better luck next year, perhaps!

(I think On Writing gave me some thoughts there as well about how better to approach my editing tasks in future. But I'll talk about that some other day)

For now, I'm going to sign off on this note:

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! :)

Write ... Edit ... Publish ~ GHOST STORY

First off, HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I hope you all a fun day. And I hope the world is kind to all the beautiful black kitties out there.

Secondly, it's time for the WEP, which I missed last month. WEP is hosted by my awesome fellow Aussie, Denise Covey. This month's theme is, fittingly for the time of year, "Ghost Story".

My story is actually from a novel I never ended up finishing, despite working on it across 2 years of NaNo (2004 and 2005, I believe). It's technically part of a greater epic fantasy work, but is currently a little bit disconnected from the "whole". Anyway, this is the scene as it stands after a few revisions done today. MS Word tells me it's 523 words long.

Somana stared at the ghost. She knew what it must see as it looked back at her—a face haggard and sagging, red-rimmed eyes with heavy shadows underneath. No doubt it also saw a withered, worn-out body, all planes, angles and shadows.

That was how Somana felt. Desiccated.

Soft orange-red light flickered all around, filtering through the ghost, playing tricks. The ghost stood silent, its power unspoken, undefinable…inescapable. It held Somana in its thrall, a trembling prisoner barely able to draw breath.

This had been one of the bad nights—the ones that always seemed to age Somana so dramatically. And it was far from over yet.

“Why are you here?” Somana’s voice shook. “You torment me!”

The ghost did not need her accusation. It knew.

It knew all her names: Zeille. Ereta. Joenne. Somana. It even knew the name she’d gone by as a child, a name all but forgotten now even by its owner. Best forgotten. Perish the thought of anyone speaking it aloud nowadays—such an act would surely seal Somana’s doom.

In her mind, she saw the ghost’s mouth open; saw the word, the name, slip out.

Her heart seized, stuttered. Her lungs constricted, and she was convinced they would explode at any moment.

Her life hung in the balance. Cradled in a ghost’s hands.

Empty bottles lay scattered about the room—at the foot of Somana’s chair, on every windowsill, and peeking out from beneath the thick, velvet curtains. Those glass receptacles glimmered in the firelight, mesmerising representations of the depths to which their owner had sunk. Usually a visitor wouldn’t see them, for no visitors came on bad nights like these. But the ghost saw them always, and drew them out.

Somana hated this ghost. She also loved and grieved, as she had done across all these bereaved years. The sickly feeling swelled in her breast, sweeping through her entire being, threatening to obliterate her the way endless bottles of elixir could never do. Why are you being so cruel? she wanted to ask, but her mouth no longer worked. And besides, she would never ask that question. Never could. The ghost was not being cruel on purpose. It was only fulfilling its purpose.

But she couldn’t help but wonder what sort of life this was. Could she really go on this way forever?

Her limbs had grown stiff to the point of cramping. She sweated, twitched, grimaced, whimpered, but did not move from her seat, huddled as she was against the great cushions. Sometimes she leaned forward, and always her eyes remained fixed on the spectre of her fascination. She wanted to run and hide, but she also wanted to spring forward and enfold the apparition in her embrace.

A motherly embrace...

The sun crept above the horizon but the light inside Somana’s room never changed. Only when the ghost departed would the shadows relinquish their hold on her. For now, the ghost held sway, and gained some measure of vindication. No comfort. Never that. No one could ever feel comfort here.

But when vindication was all there was to gain, it would have to do.

Too lazy to post anything but a cat video

Because I don't really have much to write about at the moment, because it's a Sunday and I'm feeling extremely lazy today, I thought I'd share this video instead. It's of my temporary foster cat George:



Suffice to say, George loves chasing his tail, attacking his own reflection in the shiny floor tiles, and generally being a bit of a wacko. ;) He's definitely one of the more vocal cats I've ever met, and he has big boofy paws and is very cute. Even if he isn't quite sure how to be gentle when playing.

I hope you guys are having a great weekend. :)

NaNoWriMo 2014 ... I'm in! Are you?

It's that time of year again when lots of us are gearing up for November, and NaNoWriMo. This year I'm writing yet again about rock stars, only not the same lot I've written 5 novels about in the past. This year's novel is tentatively titled "LOST & FOUND", and here is my little rough draft blurb as it stands:

Ginna and Benedict grew up together, best friends and confidants. As they enter high school, Ben finds his calling - writing & playing music - and forms his first band. Ginna, an opinionated music connoisseur, is his strongest supporter, but he rehearses in secret with his band, refusing to let her in. At their debut gig, Ben's band isn't very good, but Ginna is convinced this is the start of something huge, at least for Ben.

She's right. Ben is destined for stardom. And as his career takes off, he leaves Ginna far behind. Soon he is caught up in living the high life, travelling the world & hanging out with other famous people. But when disaster strikes his personal life, he realises he's made a series of huge mistakes. And it may be too late for him to go back & fix what he's broken.

As usual, I have that excited feeling in the lead-up to November. But I'm still trying hard to get as much editing of SQUEAKY done before November 1st begins. I'm currently on one of those pesky chapters that needed more actual story added to it, rather than to just be edited.

But back on point... Are you participating in NaNo this November?

P.S. I have now listed all my previous NaNo novels in there as well.