clo_again: (monkton - where are we going)
I am supposedly a tennis fan but it took a throwaway comment on a tennis blog for me to find out that Andy Murray had shingles back in February. Thanks, endless rounds of news coverage, professional tennis commentary, and tweets about tennis I've seen/heard since then. That kind of information is useful when one oh, is writing RPF about the personage in question.

It also makes me feel better about his generally appalling level of play this year, because the consensus seems to be that he made himself ill through overwork, overtraining, and stress, all of which is fixable (I've concluded that my six-week-long tussle with bronchitis that absolutely floored me for all of January 2016 was the cumulative effect of doing a full-time Masters for a year while working sixteen hours a week, then starting a new full-time job immediately after handing my dissertation in and working flat out until I inevitably keeled over three months later. I made it worse by pretending I wasn't ill and it briefly resurfaced two months later and the only thing that fixed it was taking some time to chill). Murray's played solid for the last three or four months of last year, trained solid for five weeks over Christmas, then made himself ill and tried to keep playing despite his body going WHAT ARE YOU DOING PUT DOWN THE RACQUET OR WE WILL CATCH SOMETHING THAT MAKES YOUR FINGERS FALL OFF.

Which is of course terribly frustrating and concerning for him, but works great for fic. Thanks for being an idiot, Muzz. Now maybe take a vacation.

-

Talking of writing, the thing I'm writing now (which is not the thing I am supposed to be writing, other than this blog post which I am extra not supposed to be writing instead of fic) is a bit strange, and sad, and I keep reading bits and wondering why I'm writing something that I find so disconcerting.

I was trying to write down a scene last night in bed and I kept falling asleep mid-sentence and waking myself up when my iPod hit me in the face, at which point I kept writing until I fell asleep again. In the end I had to summarise how the scene ended and give up. I don't even know if it's any good, or if I'm good enough to write it* but I want it written to get the disconcerting sadness out of my head and onto the paper- er, virtual paper.


* It's really hard on the internet to differentiate between honestly not feeling very good at something but believing the endless peppy tumblr posts about 'everyone feels like this! You're great!', and actually knowing something isn't very good. I wish I could win the lottery and go sit in a quiet empty house for six months to write without having to worry about going to work and being a functional human being and having to wear something that isn't pyjamas so I couldn't procrastinate out of just writing without it mattering, until I feel like I know what I'm doing.

Yesterday in work, the new interim manager told me that being smarter than ninety-five percent of the population was something I'd have to learn how to deal with and I immediately felt under incredible pressure to maintain my appearance of being smart at all times, because clearly I had somehow fooled him and apparently all the other managers into believing I was super capable. I do not understand how I give this impression when I spend some percentage of a work day playing Pokemon Go or, like today, wheat googling Serbian prison systems and Andy's Murray's medical conditions for fic. If that counts as super capable, what is everyone else doing?

I really should stop procrastinating by worrying about writing and just go write something.
clo_again: (Propeller - Screweth thou)
I can't tell if I'm genuinely tired or if my brain is just procrastinating about keeping my eyelids open. Self, finish writing this thing. I've wanted to do it all day and now I'm finally home from work, I'm too tired. There appears to be a design flaw in this thing called adulting.
clo_again: (emilia - aimless)
I really need to get back in the habit of doing this. I mean, I'm procrastinating from writing to do this but when did I ever post to LJ when I wasn't procrastinating from writing? (tip: I was always procrastinating from writing).

I mean, writing is going pretty well at the moment. For me, anyway; I've posted something within the last week which is a rare enough occurrence to rate as 'pretty well', and the thing I wrote when I had writer's block on the other thing is 2k plus and climbing, so I figure I'll get that done pretty soon before I work on the next chapter of before you come to evening. And I reread 10k of reaction-fic I wrote after Novak lost Wimbledon last year, which I'd relegated to my Dead Letter Box folder (for fic I have no intention of finishing) because I hated it and thought it was boring, but today I enjoyed it and was sad to hit the end of what I'd written, and frustrated. What were you thinking past self? I don't understand; you were on a roll. Quit quitting stuff.

I don't know if I'll finish it. Elements of it surfaced in the coming of the fall which I wrote a couple of months after, but all the set-up is done; the sticking point is that the scene I didn't write was The Scene That Was the Entire Point and Reason which are always the worst. But this one had snuggling. Maybe when Wimbledon rolls around again I'll be reinspired, or I'll post it undone over at [personal profile] clofic maybe, or maybe it'll be my writer's block fic for the next chapter of before. I guess [personal profile] clofic is going to be my work-in-progress dump over here, since all finished stuff is now going on AO3. If you want free snippets, or wips, or fic fanmixes or whatever, follow over there.

The other weird thought that occurred after rereading the Wimbledon Reject Fic; I've spent almost ten months now musing on The Fall of Novak Djokovic in one way or another, and I'm still no closer to having a grip on it or why I care. I've never liked Novak the way I like Roger, or Roddick or Muzz, not in the simple and uncomplicated way of wanting them to win everything they touch and being happy when they do. Novak's disingenuous and desperate for attention; I never quite believe him when he says the sky is blue and grass is green (like when he falls and hurts himself only to win the match, when he says he's injured, when he says he isn't, when he says he's fine when he's clearly losing weight, about to burst into genuine pained tears in the US Open final, when he falls and hits his head so hard in Qatar that Muzz came across the court to check on him), but I'm so used to resenting him for beating Roger and begging for attention and being gloriously untouchable, having him broken and off-colour is disconcerting. I know what I think happened after the French last year but Becker's gone and Jelena's pregnant again because we all know having a second kid when things are miserable is a surefire way to fix life's problems (except for all the ways it isn't) and Novak's still this weird echo of himself.

I don't like worrying about goddamn Novak Djokovic but apparently I am, anyway.

At least Roger is back on glorious GOAT form this year and is doing me a solid by skipping the clay season which I can never watch because it's on when I'm in work. Work is a whole 'nother kettle of fish (mostly not awful, but complicated).

The housing situation is at the opposite end of the extreme and is all kinds of ongoing disaster but I've procrastinated all my time away and anyway, there's not much I can say about it that isn't a complaint. Basically it's stressful and come June (our contract here ends July 3rd) I'm going to be a lot less chill about it than I am right now. Get back to me in a month.
clo_again: (pigs might fly)
I had such great plans for the last ten days that I've spent mostly vegged in pyjamas, eating Christmas chocolate. I was going to record everything I want to keep off my Sky box before I move! (I haven't). I was going to sort my wardrobe out before I move! (I've thrown one bin bag of clothes with holes in away, all from my washing basket). I was going to write all the things! (I've written 6.6k of Rogue One fic, mostly from words I'd already handwritten before Christmas).

The writing thing is really the saddest lack of achievement for me because I'm still circling the pit of sadness from R1 and I want fix-it fic, but I don't want to read any until this one I'm writing is done because I don't know enough about the SW verse to always spot what's actual canon background and what's made up, and I'm not risking writing anything in by accident. So basically I'm stuck re-reading the same paragraphs I've written over and over, and on no less than four occasions this holiday I have considered setting them (metaphorically, because I love my laptop) on fire because it all just seems like a bunch of wrong words.

I find writing generally a slog anyway and Star Wars is extra hard, because it's so important that you don't want to Get It Wrong - and then you Google things like 'why are there no AI spaceships in Star Wars?' and get fandom doing a giant collective shrug of 'eh, whatevs' which is reassuring. But also - so does no one care? Does everyone just Not Do That Thing? HOW DOES THIS EVEN WORK. Sometimes it feels like I'm being influenced by the over-arcing attitude of the internet these days being You're Doing It Wrong and I need to remember that the thing can always be fixed as long as there's some thing written down to fix in the first place.

I also keep reminding myself of Neil Gaiman's comment saying that writing always feels like working in a mine and most days you've just got to keep chipping away. Keep flailing that metaphorical pickaxe, self.

*

In other news, as my last movie of a holiday season filled with movies, I watched The Book of Life. There were many, varied, meaningful, and worthy reasons for this decision, and if anyone mentions the fact that Diego Luna sings in it as a potential factor I'll deny forever knowing what you're talking about. Anyway it's beautiful and pretty funny and all about Mexican myths of the lands of the dead, and part of me is like, that would be so interesting to crossover with R1 -- except that would take such a tremendous amount of research that even the thought of it makes me want to cry.

So, hopefully someone more dedicated than me will write that. I can only swing one (okay, maybe two, three if I use my teeth) pickaxes at the same time.

*

Life news: we're signing on the new house to rent tomorrow. It's going to cut almost two hours out of my commute each day. My bedroom has a balcony (which I'm trading for my current ensuite, sad but necessary). I'm trying not to be too excited until we actually have the keys in hand (I first looked at a potential house for us to rent last February and it was a long year of disappointments).

But signs currently point to Actually Getting The Keys tomorrow on this one. Crossing everything.
clo_again: (Andy/Roger - Pieces)
Man, having one of those days where I feel like I'm writing into the void and getting words down is like trying to claw them into a tree trunk with my teeth.
clo_again: (DAAS - Want)
I have a question for all Australian peeps who put me up and fed me and generally made sure I did not get eaten by any of your massive population of Animals That Eat/Poison/Stalk People for Funsies; have any of you moved house since I was there? Because your Xmas presents are getting posted tomorrow and I want them to go to the right place.

[livejournal.com profile] chickybee32, I'm only posting you Tristan's because yours & Lee's present is coming via email (it is not fic. sorry) closer to Xmas as it's hard to resist opening an email before December 25th. :) Is your usual email still the one you had when I was there?


Everyone else; I am - shockingly - not dead. I am planning a post of epic win involving pictures of London and tennis players and giant pigeons. However, it may have to wait a bit longer because I'm finding that I write better if I limit myself to Twitter. There's minimal time you can waste on 140 characters. Possibly I need to set aside an LJ hour every day in which I don't feel guilty for writing LJ posts instead of writing fic and such.

By the way, I failed at NaNo again but I did hit 9,000+ words which is better than I've ever done before. Then I wrote 5000+ on something else entirely and as it's still November 30th, I feel I've had a productive writing-November even if NaNo didn't pan out.

Now I am going to watch Merlin from Saturday because I was too engrossed in tennis to remember it and I've written enough for a bit that I feel I can take some time off. Also I'm really craving popcorn. Mmmmm.

Normal LJ service will probably be resumed soon. I'll try to work out how to write LJ posts and fic concurrently, possibly by growing a second head and two more arms. Hurrah for cunning plans!
clo_again: (Dark Side of Gardening)
I found this very interesting, because I was re-reading the almost-finished yellow roses fic I've been working on for the last week earlier and wondering if it was worth the effort to go back and tell it non-linearly, to see if I could. And I'd almost decided not to, because I couldn't be bothered, which really isn't the right attitude at all.

Need more motivation. >_< Like, I've been sitting in front of the computer for around three hours now and still have yet to do any work. Do anything, really. So. Useless.

If you're sitting around being equally useless or even if you're not, something to watch. I'm starting to love SarahMcLachlan.

Now. Shakespeare or dissertation?
clo_again: (Howl's Moving Castle - Temper Tantrums)
Stupid last hundred words. They're always the hardest. >_< And no, not fic though I'd dearly love it to be. None-fiction piece for this week that's already over nine hours late...

I'm doing it alright. That is an accomplishment in itself. ;) And then, *food* and *Torchwood* which I banned myself from watching until at least one piece was done.

Stupid last hundred words. Argh. I need that icon of someone beating their head aginst the computer.

edit: Yes! And now, foodwards!
clo_again: (Casper - Curiosity)
Chilli crisps. Ow. I don't know why I even thought that would a good idea.

Meant to be writing my two creative writing pieces for this week -- really *really* meant to be, since I haven't submitted anything for weeks -- and I'm not. I made A promise to threaten me with physical violence if I didn't do any work today and I'm still not writing the goddamn things.

What I am writing, I'm not saying. Only that it's nothing like anything I'm supposed to be writing for *anyone*. Muses. Go figure.
clo_again: (Pleasantville - Hiding Away)
I've procrastinated my way through the last three or so hours but have somehow ended up with the first 900 or so words of story. Which, unsurprisingly given that this is me, don't actually start the main storyline off at all. Sigh. At least I wrote *something* right?

I bet anyone who's reading this that one of the guys in my seminar will bitch about my use of * between scenes. Though how *else* you're supposed to show breaks in narrative... only write stories that take place in one continous scene I suppose.

Okay, so it mainly bugs me because he's good enough to do that really well. ShutupI*actually*wrotesomething. ;)
clo_again: (Howl's Moving Castle - Happily Ever Afte)
Leaving for Cardiff at 8am. -_- Impressed I am not. Probably means I should stuff some PJs and a toothbrush in a bag sometime tonight too but eh. Later.

In the meantime I have a request kind of stolen from [livejournal.com profile] svilleficrecs while I was journal-hopping earlier. I realised a few days ago that despite all attempts, I've yet to drag myself kicking and screaming out of my writing rut of the last... ten, eleven months shutup and that's not been helped at all by the fact I've barely been reading other fic. Time was I'd go through anything, Smallville, wrestling, Zelda and -- aside from my all-to-brief overkill on Ten/Rose a few weeks ago -- I've barely been reading anything. Which is whole magnitudes of terrible, so, to all the writers on my flist and writers passing through and that second distant cousin you vaguely think might've written fic once:

rec me the one story of yours that you think I should read. Regardless of whether you know I've read it, reviewed it, ripped it to pieces or whether it's in a fandom you don't think I'll have even heard of. Which of your fics should I be thinking of whenever I see your username? (I'll even open myself up to football, since I don't know who any of them are anyway and it'll effectively equate to reading original fic. This is an exercise in reminding myself what good fic should be.)

In addition to that, please rec me your very favourite fic. That one thing you always go back to and re-read when you're depressed or need inspiration or just because you love it so damn much, because it's pretty or it's well written or because it just pushes all your buttons in the right ways. If you have more than one, rec them all.

Slash, het, gen, any fandom, rating, pairing, squick, length... anything at all. I'm getting dusty in my secluded little corner of the internet. It's well past time I remembered there's a lot more out there.

Now, pack. Watch Laputa: Castle in the Sky. Do something useful. Hhmm, decisions.

edit: Actually I have to go to bed since I have to be up in six hours anyway. *mourns* At least I can sleep in the car. Purchance my next post shall be from Cardiff; breaketh not yon internet in the meantime and recceth me muchly.

I can't wait for that Shakespeare course. ^_^
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