Horr' Story!

I wrote a new thing! It is very very long. As far as blogging goes, anyway. I need a way to store my stuff... like, a web site of some sort, or some way to cut away from the actual entries, so I can post longer stuff. Or maybe I'll just look in to posting the longer stories in parts. Any ideas? Suggestions? Opinions?

Since I can't quite yet post anything I've written, I thought I'd post a synopsis of the horror story I've been working on. I wrote it for this contest, and it still needs a little work, but it was just a fun little bit of writing that, once edited, I will post.

It's about my apartment building, more or less. It's old, like mine, and this girl lives alone. The complex is weirdly empty. Except for when it isn't. There is a door that has been sealed shut for a hundred and ten years. Except for when it isn't. There are footsteps in the halls, and there's a party on the terrace. And Rosalie's invited.

(Dun dun DUN.)

Hiatustime.

Okay... sent my laptop off to be fixed as of yesterday. Hiatus in full effect, because although I can sporadically update from public computers, most of my writing is on my laptop. I did manage to e-mail myself the two larger pieces I've been working on, but in all likelihood, I won't finish them until my laptop is back. I miss it so.

Catalog poems.

I made catalog poetry! I was flipping through an Anthropologie catalog the other day, and the names of the clothing were these really beautiful and inspiring phrases. So I blacked out everything but those words and phrases, and then arranged those images into poetry! So, it's kind of a cross between an altered book, and plagiarism. Enjoy.

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Converging roads.

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Catalog poetry doesn't work so hot with other catalogs, though. I tried it with Free People, even, and it's... sparse.

Official date on hiatus beginning: any point after the eighteenth. So, basically, the time when my computer will be away getting fixed is the exact date when school starts up again. Hooray! I'm thinking of asking somebody to guest-post a few times with their writing... I've a few people in mind. If anyone's interested, please comment and I'll set something up.

A short story!

Another short story! Although, it's kind of a hybrid poem, too. Much shorter than the last one, and rated R for sexual content, although it's cryptic as hell. So if you're a prude, go away. Tentatively titled Supernova.

SHIT shit shit shit shit

I regret to announce that at some point in the next couple of days, I will have to be on hiatus for anywhere from 2 to 6 days. My laptop is utterly fubar (has anyone used that word since Saving Private Ryan came out? I'm a-bringin' it back.) I managed to drop it two times and was still able to use it, and then yesterday I thought "I will bring my laptop with me on my various outings and I will be able to write while Ian and Sam play chess instead of watching The OC with Kyoko.". But the opposite of that thought happened. And all of the transport served to whittle my ever-decreasing screen into a little three-by-eight bar. So I'll be sending it in to get my LCD fixed and decrease my finances to dangerously low levels.

I'll try and update once more before the actual hiatus, but in case I don't, here's a short story to hold over my increasing readership (eep!):

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I feel I should add that comments on these entries are wanted and welcome, especially constructive criticism. The more specific, the better.

Haikus and horror.

Today is the day of haikus. I wrote this one at my grandmother's cabin in northern Wisconsin, Land o' Loons. Seriously. Every damn morning with the loons, man. And Sugie (that's what we call my grandmother, long story...) had also decorated the cabin with loons in every damn place. They're a classy-looking bird. Anywho, this is the poem, a series of haikus, and it is called "Leaves".

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This haiku is also about leaves. I think it is impossible for me to write a haiku that is not about leaves. I think I tried with this one, and it ended up being about leaves again.

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I'm going to try in my next post to post some prose, but I'm apprehensive. First of all, cuts are not possible as far as I'm aware. Also, I edit poetry to no end but, comparatively, barely edit my prose. So it all might suck. Who knows. Not me.

I'm also in the middle of writing a horror story for this writing contest for Writers' Journal, tentatively titled "The Tenant". So far, it's not particularly... scary. It's certainly creepy, but in order to win, I feel like I need to proved that lingering, nightmare-inducing feeling. I want it to be Pet Sematary-scary. I'm re-reading it so I can find out what makes it so freaky. Wish me luck. I may post the story when I'm doneif I'm happy with it, but I have a feeling that I'm just not cut out for the horror genre. If anyone has any tips for me for some reason, let me know, because I could use some help. I could even use a beta, if anyone's consistently available for editing help.

This is the only writing I've done so far today. I'd best at least try to eke something out before bedtime, so I don't get in the habit of doing fuck all. That's no way to maintain a blog, eh, people? No. No it isn't.

One poem, some peanuts.

Fp-fp-fp-fp-fp.

Now, imagine that emitted from my mouth melodically, and with head bobs to emphasize every syllable. That's how I would've liked to begin this entry. So.

And now, this.

(It's a poem.)

(I wrote it.)

(It's called The Night Descending.)

I seriously need to find a substitute for LJ-cuts on blogspot. My poor little poem feels naked. This is the first installment of a multi-part series of poems I'm planning. It'll be in the middle, probably.

In other news, I am watching Good Eats. Alton Brown is conversing with George Washington Carver. He is wearing a giant foam peanut on his head.

I have to be at work by 5 tomorrow morning, but I need to see where this is going.

Edit: INTERESTING DEVELOPMENT. Okay did anyone know George Washington Carver didn't even invent peanut butter? Fucker.

An introduction, and some weird statements.

My name is Britta, and my apartment smells. My cold apartment smells. My cold apartment that I can barely afford smells. Also, I am hungry.

And I am writing (or attempting to write, depending on your point of view) this intro entry (or paragraph in a blogspot window that I'll delete in a second, depending on how it turns out) rather than taking out my trash. Or turning on my heat. Or working. Instead of doing what I should be doing, I'm starting a blog where I will store my poetry and short stories that I will write while I'm not doing what I should be doing.

Hopefully.

Because otherwise, I'm just a cold girl in a smelly apartment knowing she should be doing other things, and wanting to write, but not doing either.

So this is it. This is my attempt at replacing nothing with writing. I'll be in touch.

Time for a ham sandwich.