(no subject)

[kbk]

omg *relief* got moneys yay. of course now feel guilty because I'm sponging off paternal for most of what I actually need - everything but beer, chocolate and bus fare. well, pretty much.

So I went to the charity shop and apologised for not going in yesterday, and I went and deposited the cheque (and dammit, it feels like a lot of money but I already owe over half of it) and I went to the shop and bought beer and cake and cigarettes (because I finally finished the pack I brought back from Mexico in stress of y'day and today.) Ooh, my hands are jiggling, that's exciting.

Fill in form, that's what I have to do. Then if I get on the CELTA course and if I get my head sorted out a little then I might be able to get a job in China or something and fuck the debt I don't actually care. I'll just wait for somebody to die and leave me money. Or, of course, fame and fortune as a novelist. Yeah. The first is actually more likely; and that is, not at all. Whateva.

Comments

[kensson.livejournal.com]

Why not fame and fortune as a novelist? You write well and seem to enjoy/be driven by it. The only hard bit is sitting down and bleeding the words out. Do it! Now!

[kbk]

But bleeding hurts and I am not good at it.

Ooh, damn, now I have Plath on the brain: "Dying//is an art, like everything else.//I do it exceptionally well." - as if I wasn't suicide-oriented enough lately. (ack. that is not a reflection of my state of mind, just a train of thought that last night lead to me standing in the kitchen and contemplating the merits of a gas oven, which, whatever.)

Also I kinda suck at plotting anything over a few thousand. So I guess vignettes would be the way to go. And they could be porny.

But mostly because there are actually very few novelists who make anything like a living from it. OK, there's your JK sodding Rowling and your Stephen King, but they are totally the exception. Which sucks.

But I should try some original stuff, again. Hmm.

That is to say, thank you for the encouragement. :)

[kensson.livejournal.com]

Sorry to put Plath in your brain. My suggestion would be to write 50 or so 1,000 word pieces with some characters in common and then arrange them in some kind of order. And I'm sure porn sells :o)

[kbk]

I have been informed that there's a gap in the market for lesbian erotica. and yes, vignettes.

See, my brain is twisty. And sometimes that's cool, because it lets me do things like blame Faith's angst on having been used by the Doctor (One, that is) as practice for looking after his granddaughter and then unceremoniously dumped a few years out of her own timeline. Sometimes, however, it gives me suicide-alcoholism-incredibly-depressing-poetry, but I just have to smack it when that happens.

Currently, the fat cat has commandeered the other end of my bed, and the roof of my mouth hurts because I have eaten too many Skips. I feel reasonably entertained.

[edithmatilda.livejournal.com]

Write a novel about awaiting death of distant relatives, to fill the time until one keels over?

[kbk]

Heh. Actually, I just created a character in fic - fic about a minor character in a show you don't watch - who would actually be perfect as part of an ensemble novel. That is, "a roommate named Rachel who talked about empowering women by acknowledging female sexuality and sensuality, put a poster in their window which exclaimed (in neon pink on black) "Women Wank!" and stacked "sex-positive literature" next to her knee-high boots." And has a nipple ring.

Maybe she can await bequests?

Oh, also, the parentals went away for the weekend and left half a bottle of wine open in the fridge, and it would be horrible for it to go to waste...

[edithmatilda.livejournal.com]

That sounds oddly good. Because living off a man is bad but waiting for great-aunts to die is not gender-specific so is fine. Yay!

[kbk]

True. Very true. Maybe she can be a grad student. Or pretending to be. Though that might require me bluffing crap about whatever she's a student of. Because she may be an extroverted lesbianized version of me, but I don't need to make it obvious.



The first time Rachel actually gets close enough to Hotass to speak to him is at Salieri's place. Rachel is fairly wasted, which might explain why she points at the boy (he may be a few years older than her, but he's far too pretty to be anything but a boy) and yells, "You're fucking with my gay!"

He folds his arms and glares at her. "Excuse me?" he drawls; he's not drunk, but American, which Rachel thinks is probably worse, being as drunkenness is something it is possible to recover from.

"You are the prettiest man I have ever seen in real life," she states, and watches him raise an eyebrow. Dammit, that's not fair. "I like the pretty," she explains.

"I like the pretty too," he tells her, and starts to smile, which does devastating things to Rachel's knickers. She takes a very long drag on her joint and pointedly does not offer him any.

Hotass pouts, just a little, and Rachel points at him again. "You make me feel like a very bad lesbian!"



I should just go on a week-long bender and see how much crap I can write. Or, y'know, not.

[edithmatilda.livejournal.com]

"Hotass". Heh.

Rachel wins at being a pr0n lesbian.