Archive for the ‘TheWife’ Category
May 9th, 2009
The aforementioned notebook has become the notebook of multiple ideas. I don’t know if it’s because Spring has done that magical thing of new life, pretty flowers and ideas, or too much/little sugar. 
Ooh, maybe it’s the indigestion I’ve been having lately. Surely it must be good for something.
Stan told me that I’m not allowed to start a new novel until I finish the one I’m “working” on. It makes sense. After all, have you seen that pile of books on my bookshelf…desk…table…heh. I’m in the middle of reading no fewer than three books, and feel like I’m making progress on none of them. So the same should apply to writing – if I start writing three novels, the result may not be pretty. Problem is that I’m so very passionate about the ideas I’ve had this week. I want to run away into a dark room with them, and not come out until they’re full first drafts. But no, stay the course. 
eep breath:
Our little Aery (Destroyer) has been uuber cute lately. She had a run-in with some ants who wanted to share her food this week – I’m genuinely not sure whether she ate them or ate around them. Either way, her bowl has been re-located while we deal with the intruders. Also, she’s graduated to more-or-less sleeping with us and not in the crate at night. Not by our choice, mind you. Over the past few months, she has become more stealthy and harder to catch. We had to come up with a new scheme for catching her every single night. Not worth it. But the highlight of A:D’s week has been that she got to spend two hours locked in the crate with her beloved Koo. Long story short, I’m not sure WHY she was in the crate, I suspect she was plotting this all along, but I didn’t notice her, and mistook Koo’s reluctance to crate for her typical stubbornness. I’m not sure what transpired in the two hours they were together, other than no one came out with any blood. Somehow I imagine that Aery believes it was the best two hours of her life. Yes, she loves Koo THAT much.
May 8th, 2009
True to her Gnome heritage, her name was Maya Thalia Gertrude Helen Lucine Aria Ruby Selana. Lazy folks, which was just about everyone, called her Maya. She was three feet and three inches tall, which was exactly one half inch taller than her mother, Corellon rest her soul. She was what the humans called a Bard and the elves referred to a nuisance.
Because of her small stature, she often found it necessary to ally herself with other, stronger folks to get from town to town. Sometimes they had interesting stories to tell. Dragons and evil mages, faraway places and locations that Maya could barely imagine. Maya was drawn to these tales like the dwarves are drawn to ale. Every ounce of her stature longed to accompany a band of adventurers, to experience these wonderful things for herself and chronicle them. Sometimes, they merely laughed at her when she asked if she might tag along, but usually their refusal was more harsh. “You have nothing to offer us, little gnome.” or worse yet, “Your presence would endanger us all.” Once, a Tiefling ranger by the name of Endarmo told her that she would have been better off had she been born a pack mule. “For at least then you could carry your own weight!”
Indeed they must not be worthy adventurers if they could not see the value of someone to write down their tale – that is how legends are born, after all. At least, that is what Maya would tell herself as she sat alone with her mandolin. True, perhaps she wasn’t as capable in combat as others, but her songs carried magical properties. She could inspire her allies to fight with more courage and strength, and fascinate her enemies so that perhaps the numbers may be thinned. Once, she had enchanted a kobold so thoroughly that he was persuaded to drop his dagger and leave her in peace. Of course, this meant nothing to the adventurers, who valued only one’s ability to handle the sword or the greater arcane magic.
Her fingers plucked at the stings of her mandolin. It has been two years of saving for the intricate instrument. She played a sad, slow melody. Someday, she would prove herself worthy of the names given to her. Maybe her mother had been right, maybe she should have been a sorcerer. No one appreciates a bard.
May 4th, 2009
(This is me making up for the posts I’ve missed…heh!)
Be proud of me!
One of stanman’s chief irritations with me is that I never write down my ideas. I can see the pain in his eyes when I tell him about my ideas, he asks if I wrote them down, and I reply with laughter and no. He writhes in agony while I shrug my shoulders and ask why I should bother. This causes another jolt of pain down his nervous system as I’m sure he imagines these good ideas slipping off into the universe like bubbles from a child’s wand.
He at least convinced me that I should keep word files of my ideas. I do that – sometimes – but it feels foreign and cold. When the idea is inside me, it’s alive, and part of my brain must fight to keep it, or risk losing it. Therefore, it’s like a yeast to my ideas, and they slowly keep growing until it’s their time to be poured out into a word document of their own and brought to life. But the idea of a document with the idea feels like I’m killing it. It’s out in the world, but no emotion has been put into it, no life. So in an odd way, asking me to write down my ideas feels like I’m killing them.
But! For some odd reason, paper, I can handle. So, I have dedicated a small notebook to writing down story ideas. Whether it’ll be all the ideas about this one story, or ideas for multiple stories, I don’t know. But the point is, ideas made it to paper tonight. Stan can breathe easy, knowing that I won’t forget “that one idea I had about three months ago” now. Maybe that story will be my next NaNo novel.
Anyway…Stan’s got his voice recorder and endorses the use of word documents. I’m a strictly paper and pen sort of gal. How do you keep track of your ideas?
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