Feelin’ sick, feelin’ ill

My stomach hates me. I have the last glass of cranberry juice in the house, and I still feel gross. It’s like I have the most uncommitted stomach flu ever. My throat drains and I cough and sneeze, but never hack up anything, and now I just have a roiling stomach that aches. No puking or other taboo words.

Oh yeah, I was going to write about writing. Funny how the body makes demands on every front.

We Do the Weird Stuff may just be a working title. I like “What We Do Is Secret”, which is a good series name–it’s long, but it is catchy. Shortened to What We Do in parlance, We Do the Weird Stuff could be the title of the first book. I know what happens in the second, but if it has to keep to a theme, ehh. We Hire Heroes? Too noble for what they do. Seeking Applicants would be too vague and no theme. Maybe if the second title dealt with the monsters and relevant incursions. Behemoth Sunday. Dollars for Hierophants.

Okay, getting ridiculous. But I think the fourth book is called Uzbekistan. No one will get that joke.

NaNo. The idea I decided to go for officially is The Alice Legacy, which I made a mock cover for in anticipation of the site’s relaunch… only to see that they removed the cover art function of the novel page. No big deal, I suppose. I can post it here. But that doesn’t make up for something that stirred me to make one of my best covers last year. (for a story that failed in the rough draft, but still. It’s a good idea and I can revive it, and it has a bloody good cover.)


My synopsis on my userpage is probably awful, so I’ll avoid the C&P and just go predictably ape. I’m not even summarising or anything, this is just jabber.

Some truths are self-evident. Some are evasive. Still others are simply undeniable. Inescapable. The truth of Alice is one of these. There is always an Alice, in control of a land of wonder. That is the truth of it. But the facts are not so simple. Fact: Alice is a common name. Fact: “An” Alice indicates one. Fact: Wonder need not denote benignity.

In the tournament and occasional multi-sided war to claim supremacy, Alice Blackwell becomes the popular favourite. She begins like all the rest–freshly fallen down a hole, frightened and out of her depth. But she grows into the violence, even finds herself the general of her own faction before she realises just how far her second fall has taken her.

Note: I am sorry for the depth pun. It was not on purpose.

I was toying with the idea of writing more than one novel this year, but that may be an absurd pipe dream. (see my hours with Thing 1 and Thing 2 re: Nov 1) I could wait for JaNoWriMo, but that’s yonks away.

Besides, the other ideas I have are on a bit of a range.

Ringing in as the clear worst is…well, it’s not worth mentioning, is it? Can’t even come up with a working title that isn’t embarrassing. The plot is stupid, and somehow I destroyed the characterisation that led me to writing the idea down in the first place. Worse fool me.

Every Time We Say Hello doesn’t like me. I try to work on it, and all I get are the characters and some of the world. There’s the potential for a lot of drama, but…

An idea I would have thought would be great also misses the bar. Instead of just revising and completing Vesi Vanhin Voitehista, I thought of writing a different first book (chronologically) about one of the characters. I say that phrase instead of the name because there is no longer anyone who knows (or cares) who Shoe is.

Grah. I think I am in a crappy mood. This is not how one makes things enticing. But I just don’t feel like I am enticing. I have to move my rant away from the title.

I hate Harry Potter fans all over again. No one in the world can ever again write a story about magic or schools, especially not the joining of either. Some of the stupider Americans even think that perfectly normal things are Rowling’s inventions, or that she came up with some stuff from smoke (the sport use for the word “pitch”, for one) instead of adapting existing things to her purpose. Like lots of other writers. She’s good, not God. I wanna say “get over it,” but that isn’t right either. Just don’t make everything else suffer.

Sigh. I always fall short. No one jumps up and down over my story ideas anymore. I wonder if I was ever worth that, or if I just knew excitable people.

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