Marin Townsend's Blog: Mostly Sarcastic Ramblings of a Small-Time Sass Master - Posts Tagged "weeping-angels"

Plus they make me existential. You, too? Good. I'm glad we've become acquainted, in that case.

Although, they do have one benefit, and that is the fact that they give me opportunity to write that sunlight would otherwise cause me to shove aside. So I've settled myself in bed with some lavender tea, a space heater, and a few ginger candies. Oh, and my laptop. But you knew that already.

While you're here, obviously perusing the internet for something interesting to read, why don't you stop by Seth's Blog and read this rad article about humanity, and culture, and tropes, and why green lights are green and not chartreuse? If the clouds aren't making you ponder existence, the blog post certainly will.

And now, I'm off to write and listen to Death Cab for Cutie, as I originally set out to do today. Don't let the weather make you doubt your own existence too much, and I'll do the same.

So, I started the first draft over.

Want to know why?

I'll tell you why.

It wasn't working. Simple as that. *dedicated one-draft writers screaming in the distance* Does that frighten you? That I began again? Allow me to tell you a thing.

I have about twenty first-drafts of Notorious in my Dropbox. Two of which have found their way to print format, and one of which I'm actually satisfied enough with to present to people and say, "Yes, look, I wrote this thing. Here, read it." That's a big accomplishment for me. Julie March can vouch for that. I'm a perfectionist freak when it comes to my art. And sometimes that might be a little bit of a good thing. Because it's thanks to those twenty or so 11 point Arabic Typesetting-set drafts that I shudder to look at now that I've finished what I have.

Thanks, ugly little drafts. 100K is nothing to sniff at.

I can only imagine how this would have turned out if I'd charged along with one of the previous drafts...

This leads me to a very appropriate Ira Glass Quote on the subject. Said quote is your reading material this week, children.

So, tonight, I've taken the opportunity to plug my headphones into my computer and let Colin Meloy serenade me into a state of perfect prosaic language. This, as I go boldly into the beginning of the second-first-draft.

Or would that be second draft?

Either way, don't blink. Blink and you're dead.

Those two statements are entirely unrelated. Or are they? Yeah. They are. The weather outside is...weather. Not the type of weather I'd exactly like to see, what with the snow spitting intermittently. But it's weather, nonetheless. And I've been told by numerous people to enjoy weather for what it is. I just find that hard to do when my fingers ache with cold. (See: Downfalls of Having Sinewy Fingers.)

But I digress. (Or do I, really?) I've just begun listening to Serial as of today. Because, prior, I've not found podcasts particularly interesting. And, failing that, I've found they're dismally distracting. But as I figured theorems and postulates today, I found Serial oddly unassuming. The narration is such that it allows you to let your mind wander some, but warns you of important details. Plus, the story—while it is a snail's-pace-burn—is compelling. I want to listen to the next episode.

But, alas, I have to write.

Pitiful, no?

Don't get me wrong, I'm doing this for you. I'm going to write. But I do want to know what comes next...

Oh, but, before I go—and if you're interested in nontraditional electronic background noise that will make you feel like the hipster you know you internally are, please give Chet Faker a listen.