The Tea Tree

What the hell-ass is this making me anxious for, ANYWAY.

So last year I went to a few writing Meetups, and was surprised when people showed interest in Friendship in Winter. As I posted on FB, I really wasn't expected anyone to be interested in a novel about two deeply messed up people.

So instead of AG, I've been working on that when I do get the muse, because AG and I aren't speaking to each other right now. It's not AG, it's me: untreated ADHD has turned that thing into a monstrosity and I really need to just sit down and figure out the plot and subplots. Friendship in Winter is so much easier because there really ISN'T a plot. It's just two mentally ill people trying to survive.

I almost started a paragraph with "So" again, sheesh. Here's the rewritten bath scene in the beginning of FIW. TW for depression I guess? It's Terry and Kader, don't know what to tell you.

( Oops, we ruined the public bath )

Magical disappearing act again, I know. It's what I do.

I didn't win NaNoWriMo, but that's no shock at all. My writer's block has been severe and writing every day doesn't help -- eventually I just get to a point where the whole thing grinds to a halt. I think I got halfway though? So a respectable number of words. I'm actually going to try and do some more writing because I planned a writing trip in the Adirondacks next month and I want to be in top shape for that.

Nothing tonight though as I have a migraine that really, REALLY doesn't want to leave. It needs to since I'm driving to CT tomorrow but anyway. Context for this scene: Lilith was attacked by a vampire, and Gareth and Rose May are representing her supposed attacker since he's falsely accused. They are visiting Lilith in the hospital as Rose May is hoping she can sense the actual criminal through the girl.

It goes poorly.

( TW for vibes bordering on child sexual abuse )

Day two of pain from the weather, thanks it going nearly to 60 yesterday, then right back to maybe 40 max today. Leaving me bloody exhausted, so time for the broken brain icon (which cracks me up).

But that's not why you're here. Here's an excerpt from last NaNoWriMo. Part II of AG is supposed to start each chapter with a news article, and they are pure sensationalism. I'd tell you more, but honestly it hurts to type, so I'm just going to post it and go back to SPORE.

( TW for minor racism )

By the way: this man is Meander. I was creating him in Sims 4 and realized that I liked his look when he wasn't another pale man, and I need more diversity in my cast anyway.

Tschuess.

So, um... Hello. Been a while.

I don't have much to say right now. Sure I will someday but for now it's just kind of awkward and nerve-wracking. Social phobia is a beast.

As a sort of summary of my life the past five years:

- I don't have an autoimmune disease. WHAT I have, god knows. Fibromyalgia, hypermobility syndrome, and some sort of unknown musculoskeletal disorder.
- I moved to upstate NY. I have a fireplace. It's pretty sweet.
- I still haven't finished my bloody rewrite of Abandoned Gardens.

I'll probably be trying to get back into using prompts and the like here, in the hopes of getting my creative juices flowing a bit more. There's been a mental block on my creativity for years, and my therapist thinks it's a couple of things: being in survival mode for years, and not a lot of people I feel I can share my writing with. Despite the motherfucking madness that is COVID, I'm not so much in survival mode, and maybe rejoining this site can help with the latter. We shall see.

So yeah. I'll leave you with something I wrote a few weeks ago.

( The Perils of Open Relationships )


See you later, perhaps.

Just a weird little piece I wrote this morning after some funky-ass dreams. Apologies for inaccuracies regarding space travel and all. Did minimal research; will try to brush it up later if I get the muse.

( TW for bugs and blood )

( TW for mention of depression, suicidation )

Just lots on my mind. Sorting through the scrapbook, so to speak. Don't worry, though: I'm fine.

Tschuess.

( TW for PTSD )

Rose May had a pretty damn traumatic experience during the Frenton Rebellion, yet I never seem to touch upon it in AG. This is me attempting to -- I feel like Duff's at times intimidating, emotionless manner may be enough to set her off. Duff was likely in his twenties when shit went down, so he'd remember the story of the little girl, once it got around. And I would not be surprised if it was that story that gave him another push to abandon high-class society.

Feel free to comment and give me tips. I don't have PTSD myself so I'm writing based on what it feels like it would be, to me.

Tschuess.

I think that I've been a bit secluded on here, which I've been a bit (okay, a lot) in real life as well. So forcing myself to post an update.

First off: the health news I got last month was confirmation that I have an autoimmune disorder, Sjögren's Syndrome. The shit clinic I went to in college found this originally, did not tell me, and then put it on my health record. This was a nasty surprise when I got rejected for insurance, before Obamacare stopped that especially shitty insurance practice. I kind of ignored it because I didn't show the classic symptoms, but in early October I had a very nasty week where my joints hurt horribly, I was exhausted, and furthermore I couldn't really THINK.

I went to the doctor since my knee at that point had been hurting for a full week, and she offered to check for rheumatoid. I mentioned the diagnosis from two years ago, and sure enough: it's there, chilling out, because my body things chronic illnesses are Pokemon.

So far it hasn't done much -- Sjogren's isn't usually diagnosed until people are in their 40s, so I have many years before me to try and kick it in the shins and keep it from getting too severe. Right now my joints hurt horribly, but I think it's my hormones punishing me for not getting pregnant. How dare I, truly.

On the writing front, I am participating in NaNoWriMo, despite this month being crazy for me work-wise. Tonight for instance no writing will be happening despite me being behind a day, because I am simply too exhausted. I am rewriting the second part of Abandoned Gardens, and right now at about 17K (so about 3K behind).

On the life front, one of the top reasons I'm exhausted is not work, but my brain being apeshit. Please enjoy this acid-trip-without-the-acid dream, created by my lovely brain instead of letting me sleep restfully last night, as posted on my FB:

"Okay, really brain? I dream that my family adopted a Basset Hound named Anna, except Anna was apparently some freakish Basset/hawk hybrid considering she suddenly flew off, grabbed a freakin' VULTURE, and began dropping it from a high height to kill it? You realize that seagulls do that to shit like crabs to crack them open, and I don't think it works on things that can, you know, FLY. Also why did the vulture turn into a peacock? And why the FUCK did I then dream that some evil asshat was trying to kill people/take over the world and locked me outside my own house in like, 20 degree weather?

I want a new brain."

Truly. The vulture part was truly gruesome; I will spare you all the details because no one should have to know, and I'd rather just forget about it all. Though raze, I will love you forever if you draw the bonkers bassethawk.

That, in a rambling not-nutshell, is how things are going here. I am actually going to tuck into bed early because right now it hurts to sit, and I know that by tomorrow most of this stupid "How dare you not get pregnant, you must be punished" shit will be gone and I can be a human again.

Hope you've all been well.

Tschuess.

I've been playing Sims this weekend, particularly Kader, Tegre, and Eilis once they are in Arebe. They've been making me smile; Kader keeps acting very much as she does in the stories. Caring for the kids even though she hates them, getting pissy at anyone who compliments her, and during one hilarious incident, she slapped adult Conan, then beat the crap out of him. I still have NO clue what he did.

It gave me a bit of inspiration, though unfortunately it's pretty crap so far.

( Six-year-old Conan vs. mid-to-late thirties Kader, go! )

So yeah. Apologies it's crap. Hopefully it'll get a bit better as I work on it.

Tschuess.

Title: Lavender
Genre: Fantasy
The Troops: Tegre and Cassandra
Status: Complete but very rough
Rating: PG-13, disturbing imagery and also just very depressing
Summary: Sometimes your body stays alive while your brain slowly rots...
Prompt: NA
Author's Notes: I'm not too happy with this, but I AM happy to have finally finished something. I'll let this stew before going back to flesh it out a bit more. This story was first posted here.

( Major TW for depression, familicide, physical disability )