OK, so I’m a big fat slacker
By Cath | May 26, 2008
At least as far as writing blogs goes.
And I’m not quite sure why - it’s not as though nothing has happened recently - quite the reverse. I’m working, partying, having fun. All stuff I haven’t done for a long time. And I guess that’s the problem. When real life happens to me instead of around me, I like to join in. And when I’m joining in, I stop watching - just for a little while.
It’s not as though this stuff is interesting to anyone else, anyway.
But there’s something to be said for it. Living, I mean. I tend to write in the quiet periods, when the living bit isn’t really happening. I pull all those memories out of their dusty trunks and buff and polish until they look like something interesting (or at least that’s the theory). So I guess not writing for a while is a good thing. Replenishing the trunks and all.
Or perhaps I’m just slipping away. Who knows?
Topics: Writing | 3 Comments »
Renewing acquaintances
By Cath | January 15, 2008
My old friend Insomnia’s been visiting a lot lately. I try to enjoy her company, but she will go on and on, jabbering inanities until the first whisper of dawn.
She’s the bad guest, the one who long outstays her welcome, and I continue to play good host - too polite to turn her away.
I guess I have to learn to lock the door and to leave the phone to ring. Then perhaps, just perhaps, she’ll take the hint.
Topics: Life, the Universe and Everything Else | 3 Comments »
5 Random Facts
By Cath | January 1, 2008
I’ve been tagged by Arachne Jericho to do this, and since it’s her…
It strikes me that there are some things you just don’t know about people unless you meet them, little twitches and ways of speaking that you can’t possibly pick up in this impersonal communication medium. So, I’m going to share a few things my online friends probably don’t realize:
- I’m more than a little deaf. I had a lot of operations to correct my hearing when I was a kid (google glue ear for the reason) and it’s left scarring on my eardrums that mean I don’t process sound as effectively as those with normal hearing. As a side effect, I have a really poor sense of direction for noise. If sirens are going off to my left, I’ll look right to see where they’re coming from.
- It also makes me easy to sneak up on.
- I smile a lot. I mean, a lot.
- What many people notice first about me is my laugh. It’s very loud. I have an Edna Krabappel snort in my repertoire as well.
- My accent fluctuates depending on my mood. It’s all British, but with strong regional influences from the West Country, Up North, London, and Scotland.
- I make stupid lists. (That one, you might have spotted)
- I can’t count.
Topics: Life, the Universe and Everything Else | 10 Comments »
The new issue of Coyote Wild is out!
By Cath | December 16, 2007
And there are some mindbogglingly good stories in this edition. Go! Check it out.
Topics: Things Literary | No Comments »
I’m listening…
By Cath | December 15, 2007
… to Donna Tartt’s ‘The Secret History’ at the moment. I downloaded it from my library and zapped it over to my lovely SanDisk MP3 player.
It’s narrated by the author, which doesn’t seem an obvious choice, since the book is written from the first person perspective of a Californian, 20 year old, man. And Tartt is neither male nor from California.
At times, her Southern lilt sounds odd, but it’s not distracting. It’s actually interesting to listen to the author read her own work - hear the voices as she perceives them. And the effect is rather wonderful.
If you get a chance to listen, I highly recommend it.
Topics: Books | No Comments »
This night will be bad…
By Cath | December 11, 2007
… and tomorrow will be beyond imagining.
I don’t quite know why - perhaps it’s the atmosphere of the book, or the sense of mystery that surrounds a dead world - but I always read ‘The Dark is Rising’ at this time of year. I guess it’s a Christmas tradition.
Susan Cooper’s words remind me so strongly of the English countryside, they are rooted so deeply in real places - places I know, places I can see and smell when I read them - that they almost make me feel homesick.
Almost.
But the real reason I love her stories is because they’ve grown from the legends I grew up with, Wayland the Smith, Herne the Hunter, the Old Ways, Tethys and the Green Witch, King Arthur and his sleeping knights. They’re steeped in English history, heritage, and folklore. And this is a time of year for remembering. Because by remembering, we bring the world back to life. Because it’s not dead, it’s just sleeping for a while.
“The Walker is abroad, he said again, “and this night will be bad, and tomorrow will be beyond imagining.” The Dark is Rising, Susan Cooper.
Topics: Books, Holidays | 4 Comments »
TRANSFORM: Flash Fiction Carnival III
By Cath | December 9, 2007
It’s up! The FLASH FICTION CARNIVAL III is here, over at Virginia Lee’s blog.
Topics: Writing, Absolute Write | No Comments »
A change of pace.
By Cath | December 2, 2007
Virginia Lee, is running AW’s Flash Fiction Carnival the Third. The theme is transformation.
Death of a Muse
by Cath Smith
Rusted leaves float on the surface, bobbing up and down like tiny sail boats on wind-blown waves. I watch them from the front porch, wondering how cold the water felt on her skin, and whether the dying leaves remembered.
It was our favorite place, here on the porch. From the wooden swing seat you can see to the east, out across the lake. On the far side, the mountains rise blue in the mornings, and burn a brilliant red at sunset. We used to watch them together.
I don’t know when it ended. Or I can’t remember.
There’s no one time or place when it stopped, no new beginning, no butterfly transformation. It was a gradual shift, slow as the creeping continents. I almost didn’t notice she was gone.
I try and remember that sweet smell of jasmine. For a blissful moment, I think I have it. I reach out in hope. But it slips, it slithers away. It hovers out of reach, taunting and teasing me with a memory too faint to grasp. The bush behind me lies dead, its barren branches eating into the fragile frame of our nirvana.
She would whisper to me here, tell tales of the breeze murmuring in the tips of the trees, or sing about the birds, circling high above. She gave my world texture, painted it in vibrant hues. She gave me fever, passion, a lust to hear and sense and feel everything – everything there was to know. I devoured it, every tiny sensation, every tingling hair. I knew the embarrassment of love, and the soothing stab of pain. I knew the obsessions of mice and the playfulness of snowflakes. Nothing was beyond my grasp.
But the fevers burned brightly and fast. In a shudder they were gone, and I would tire of her stories, told over and again. They lost the sweet shimmer of morning dew. And then, I’d brush her off. Close her down and walk away. Then come back hungry as the sun broke the sky, thirsting for her and sucking her dry.
And it strikes me only now, after all this time, that I never once gave anything back. Like the jasmine, she remained untamed, cared for only by the weather and the open skies.
I always knew she would leave. Or I think now that I did. Perhaps that is why I hungered; perhaps that is why I drank so fast. Perhaps, in some tiny corner of my soul, I knew her time was brief.
Or perhaps I drove her away. Perhaps my moods and my insolence became too much to bear. Perhaps I devoured her too fast.
And perhaps it doesn’t matter any more.
Because it’s too late for apologies.
I never saw her leave, not really. I only saw the ripples on the lake and half-wondered at the fractured reflections. And I pretended to hear her voice.
But it was only an echo.
Topics: Writing, Absolute Write | 18 Comments »
Writing by hand
By Cath | November 11, 2007
You know, there have been so many posts about writing by hand on this debacle that I actually picked up a pen.
My writing is stalled, I thought, why not?
Why not indeed? It’s true, I got a few pages written. And my hand didn’t tire (I’ve been in too many exams for a three hour writing session to tire me). And whaddya know - it’s almost legible too!
So come on, fellow debaclers - what does your handwriting look like?
(I suddenly feel sorry for all the examiners who had to decode this mess).
Topics: Writing | 9 Comments »
I was really worried
By Cath | November 4, 2007
When I started my nanowrimo novel.
The longest thing I’ve written before this has been 40,000 words long (in its completed state - i.e. after editing out 10k of nonsense, false starts and general crap).
But this time I had a Plan!
I was going to write two novels. Intertwined (intertwining?) storylines where one provides resolution for the other. And each with it’s own plot twists and turns. That way I get a good 100,000 words (edited down to 80,000 after cutting out the nonsense).
And so far, it’s working. To a point.
The two stories are very different. One is a dream world, a fantasy, the other is hard-boiled reality. And there’s the trouble. Because the fantastic side will appeal to readers of fantasy, and the reality will (I hope) appeal to readers of the gritty true to life stuff. But I don’t think, as it stands now, the readers who enjoy the fantasy will enjoy the reality side of the story and vice versa.
I’ll need to bear that in mind if I ever come to edit it. But for now, I’m just writing, happy that I’m getting more done than I’ve ever done on one story before.
And let’s all hope it stays that way!
Topics: Writing | 4 Comments »
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