Friday Fribbles

My ancestry is pretty much a European hodge-podge of genetic stuff.  The family tree has branches from Italy, Scotland, Ukraine, England, and Slovakia.  But thanks to Maggie's recent trip, she's discovered that there is also a branch from Hungary.  The seriously cranky branch, specifically, and where my pout undoubtedly hails from.  See the proof she brought me...



It's only slightly disturbing.  Of course, I love her dress and I'm keen on the idea of having family ties to the artist, Munkacsy Mihaly.  I'm also keen on the idea that one day soon I'll meet The Doctor and have an adventure (carrying buckets?) in 19th century Hungary.

And in other Friday news, we've got two full stories up on Tangled Fiction for December and I can't decide which I like better.  Check out BETHLEHEM for some post-apocalypic holiday spirit and I ONLY HAVE EYES FOR YOU for something of a serious creepfest!  

I am different today than I was before

I've had long hair since I was born.* It hasn't always been touch my waist long, but always long enough to pull into a ponytail and more often than not, long enough to get caught in car doors and pick up stray animals. But about two weeks ago, I decided to try something different.

The need for change sort of sprang out of nowhere. I was walking along one day, perfectly content with the long locks, when inspiration attacked and the decision to cut was made. And just like that, I was done with the long hair.

Yesterday, it was as almost as long as it's even been with high school being the only time it ever got close to my hips. It was this long:

And then it was shorter and brighter...

I expected there to be more emotion involved with the snipping of 10 - 12 inches, but there wasn't. It was gone and I was chatting merrily along. My stylist set the first chunk of hair right in my lap and I just kept talking until Tessa stopped me with, "Do you realize what is happening right now?!"

It was a clear sign that it was high time for a change. And boy, oh, boy it is one....


Ta-da!

*Suspension of disbelief required here.

BUST*

*Some deadlines were harmed in the making of this post.

I had to release my self-imposed deadline to the winds sometime around Sunday. As I stood hip deep in my wip, I realized that in the process of making the whole thing better, I was making specific parts worse. That's when the hacksaw came out and words were flying into the recycle bin like there was no tomorrow. 

I don't have a final count for all that I cut, but it was easily more than 5k. So, I have something to show for all of those lattes, but it's not what I was hoping to have. But that's the way it goes.

BUT! On the topic of deadlines I *did* manage to meet, I have two finished products to present.

One - The November edition of the cello VLog, in which I discuss the relationship between the cello and Greek Myth (sort of).

&

Two - My first solo short story on Tangled Fiction. I'm thinking there should be a clever name for our solo stories like Not So Tangled Fiction or Loosely Tangled Fiction.  Okay, okay, in any case, it's up and here's a preview.

PROPHET

This is my curse: I will tell you your future, but you won’t believe me.

***

My apartment was tiny, which was why the trainer’s sharp knock sounded like a volcano erupting through my front door.

He was short and round and gruff, and he made no attempts at polite introductions. “You’re that prophet chick, yeah?” His voice was no surprise, shattered and coarse.

The Cello Project - November Edition

Of the several deadlines converging upon me at this time, this is one I'm crossing off the list!

The November Edition of the Cello VLog staring Greek Myth, a desire for better sound quality, and regret over the wide-open closet door! Now, I really understand why my mother was upset with me for leaving the vacuum cleaner in the background of the BonusKoto Edition of the VLog. :/

Ah, well, I'm over it. Video, Ahoy!



Missed previous editions? You can find them here!

My Stress Makes Itself! (no, really)

I am really, really good at putting totally ludicrous amounts of stress on my own shoulders. I mean really good. I can take my totally normal, moderately stressed life and turn it into a maelstrom of anxiety and things that explode if you look at them the wrong way.

Take now, for example. I may sound calm, but inside my fingers are ten thousand exclamation points dying to get out. Yes, literally. And why have my fingers become a wasteland of unrealized punctuation? I'm going to tell you.

I have imposed yet another deadline on myself: to complete a draft of my wip by the stroke of midnight on 11/30. This, in addition to the November Edition of the Cello Project Vlog, Thanksgiving, my birthday, and the day job (which occasionally counts for 10 things with commas). There is no one holding me to this deadline (other than my crit partners), no one to threaten me with horrible things like unemployment or a full day without the internet. There's no one but me (and ok, again, the cp's, but I don't think they'll ditch me if I fail) to keep me in line on this one.

And yet.

I feel the stress in my freaking bones. I feel the push to finish in style. I feel that little goblin sitting somewhere near my cerebellum waving his little birch wand like mad (pictured, wand not shown).

I feel like I've had three double espressos and need another.

And it's all me. It's not my boss, it's not the IRS, it's not a performance deadline, it's not a flight to England. It's just me and my brain making me feel like a controlled storm sweeping my creative landscape. /melodrama

So here I go. I'm taking the leap and if all goes well, I'll land sometime next week with something to show for it. That, or I will transform into a molecule of adrenaline. One of the two.

Pulling the Tangled Pieces Together

I have an announcement to make. It's one of the little ones, but it feels sort of major and a little profound.

The ladies of Tangled Fiction have put their heads together (yes, I'm aware I'm speaking about myself in the third person) to make this thing we're doing even more accessible. We have heard from a few readers that they prefer waiting until Friday to read the full story all in one go and we think this is pretty keen and have been brainstorming on how to make this easier. And we've done it. Prepare yourselves.

We have created an archive of Tangled Fiction Fulls.

Impressive, right? Once the story has been posted in full, we'll be compiling all of the pieces into a single document and loading them into the archive. This will be hosted over on the Blogger side of things because it's just easier that way. If you visit us there you will notice that we have installed IntenseDebate in order to thread comments, so please use that feature! It will let you comment as a guest, create an IntenseDebate profile, or sign-in with your Twitter or Facebook account.

The Tangled Trio now has two completed shorts up and and I have to say our latest is my favorite so far. Seeing where Valerie and Lacey took this one was exhilarating. You can find it here: What Wishes Are Made Of.

Lessons from the Rooftop

Sunday afternoon I got stuck on my roof.

It was one of those moments when I realized just how much like my father I am and also, how resourceful.

Here's how it happened. It was a beautiful day and my gutters were overflowing with bright autumn leaves. So, while Tessa Gratton was ensconced on the sofa writing like made with earbuds shoved into her head, I grabbed the ladder and headed around to the back of the house. (This would be the farthest point from her because I had some idea of what I was preparing to do and that she wouldn't approve). I picked a sturdy spot on the new deck and set the 6' ladder to stun.

There were warning signs, of course. First, there was the fact that I was alone and the neighborhood was eerily quiet. And then there was the bright green covering on the very top of the ladder imprinted with the words: NOT A STEP. And there was the precarious tipping of the ladder as I used the not a step to leverage myself onto the roof.

But they felt more like suggestions. I was full of my CAN DO attitude and just like that, I was on the roof.

It was when it came time for getting off of the roof that I started to doubt myself. The ladder was useless and I realized that the NOT A STEP wasn't joking. If I tried it, the not a step itself would wrap itself around my calf and fling me to the ground somewhere in my neighbor's back yard.

So there I was, trapped on my roof with the only person around happily plugging away at her novel with earbuds in.

Grendel was with me, but all he did was bark incessantly, "Jump! Jump! Jump! Jumpjumpjump!"

I considered it, but breaking my ankle on my brand new deck seemed too cliche. I eyed the limbs of the Maple tree and imagined swinging my way to the trunk, but I've seen too many America's Funniest Videos for that. So, I sat and listened to my quite neighborhood and pondered.

I didn't panic. And I think it was because I knew I would get down, it was just a question of how much getting down was going to hurt. It's probably also because this sort of situation isn't atypical for me. I don't know when it started (in utero?), but I do seem to have a fierce love for high pressure situations.

Other rooftops I'm stuck on at them moment include the recently ramped up schedule of Tangled Fiction, the final months of the Cello Project, polishing the wip for submission, 2 thousand Scorpio birthdays (seriously, I am surrounded by them), and the day job I love.

I think I actually missed the green no step several months ago.

But what I've learned is that if I were to pay attention to all of those warning signs, not only would I miss a spectacular view, I would have missed out on doing all of these new things.

I would still be on the ground wondering.

So, you might be wondering how I eventually got back down to the ground. I think I'm not going to tell you. I think I'll just say that I didn't jump and I didn't use the Maple tree and I didn't call for Tess. I used my wits, I trusted my strength, and it didn't hurt a bit.

The First Signal

Hello, Blogger!

This, being my first official post in the Blogger blog-iverse, should contain a few official and poignant things about me and about this blog.  So!  I could say that I'm a Sagittarius sun with a Cancer moon and a Gemini rising, or I could say that I'm an E/I(seriously, split down the middle)NFP, or I could tell you that if I were a Tarot Card (or a character in BONES), I'd be Temperance.

Or I could tell you that last Sunday I got stuck on my rooftop for an hour because I was so determined to get up there, that I didn't think about how I was going to get down.  I learned many lessons from this experience, the most important of which is, never sky dive alone.

And that pretty much sums me up.

It's taken me a Very Long Time to start up this whole blogger business, because I'm in love with threaded comments.  But, with a little help from other savvy writers and bloggers, I've learned that this is possible to do here and so I'm giving it a shot.

So, welcome!  (And thanks for having me.)

Cheers,
Natalie