mer: (Default)
I did this meme a couple years ago. I have more images now.

1) Post ten of any pictures currently on your hard drive that you think are self-expressive.
2) NO CAPTIONS!!! It must be like we're speaking with images and we have to interpret your visual language just like we have to interpret your words.
3) They must ALREADY be on your hard drive - no googling or flickr! They have to have been saved to your folders sometime in the past. They must be something you've saved there because it resonated with you for some reason.
4) You do NOT have to answer any questions about any of your pictures if you don't want to. You can make them as mysterious as you like. Or you can explain them away as much as you like.

Images, yeah. And I'm 90% sure there are no dups with the past iteration of the meme. )

Cat Drama!

Oct. 15th, 2010 11:14 pm
mer: (Cat reading Newspaper)
Merlin, my writing cat, invented the art of sleeping under my halogen desk lamp. No, really, he'll tell you.

To the point where I had to make him his own special spot NEXT to my desk on a little four-drawer cabinet, because he had taken to such great sprawling I couldn't actually use my desk. He even has his own little gray faux-fur throw.

Today, his brother not only discovered the Spot of Great Warmth, but stole it. For like an hour.

And Merlin alternately paced over top of Arthur's head, stood watch, or tried to catch as much halogen heat as he could by huddling on the strip of desk next to Arthur's head. ANGST! CAT ANGST!

Merlin got down to disconsolately yowl a bit. Then Arthur moved, and Merlin was RIGHT THERE, OMG, are you out of my freaking spot yet? But Arthur was not out of the spot. Arthur was just preparing himself for a bath.

Merlin got back on the desk and tried to stare him down.

Arthur cleaned himself in his own good time, and finally left. Things to puke, places to pee.

Merlin flopped down immediately back in his spot, closed his eyes, and groaned contentedly. I'd take another picture, but it's nearly identical to pic 1 above.


Also, earlier today, I saw a squirrel acrobat:

mer: (Alice in Wonderland)
I got lost in New York. Only a little lost though, driving back from Mt. Kisco to South Salem. I found my way rather well, considering; I never had to backtrack, which--in my world--means that you weren't lost at all, you just took the scenic route.

Along the way, I found a little wilderness called Carolin's Grove. And it had some magnificent pine trees, along with magnificent pine cones.

Tree digression. )

I thought [ profile] sunnydecho might want a giant pinecone. So I picked one up. And thought, "How odd, the thing has sprouted!"

But then I looked closer and realized the thing was a tiny mushroom!

The very next cone I flipped over had even more and bigger mushrooms growing out of it, which you can see if you click through on any of the pictures above.

Then I flipped thirty more cones and found no more tiny mushroooms. It was totally luck of the draw that I found the special ones right off the bat. I put them both back where I found them, and took one of the more boring cones home to Sunny.

Now, if I were [ profile] asakiyume, I would write you a clever and moving origin story of these tiny mushrooms. But since I am not, I will go work on my book.
mer: (Alice in Wonderland)
Public Domain Curator at Anthology Builder

Okay, Nancy Fulda announced this yesterday, so I will share it here now, too: I'm the new (and first) Public Domain Curator for Anthology Builder.

I've loved Anthology Builder since the moment I first heard of the concept, and have been happily shuttling my stories over there in exchange for the glee of building custom anthologies (and, of course, for my share of the 10%(ish) author royalties that get split amongst each anthology's authors).

I'll be selecting public domain works to include on the site, and building anthologies, and generally having a good old time over there. And if there's an older story you've been hoping to find on the site, do let me know--I suspect Nancy will build me a suggestion form some day, but until then, I still have email and whatnot.

Have I finally found a hobby?

On a more mundane plane, I got my birthday present from my husband last night, which is a pretty sweet little photo scanner that also does negative and slide scanning. So, all my pre-digital photographic adventures will be coming to a Flickr account near you... slowly, of course. I scanned three strips o' negative last night, and only uploaded three pictures of Poitiers. I'm... pondering color correction and things like that. From a less useful angle, I'm also pondering the interesting textures from film that seem missing from digital--am I crazy? Am I sane? Who knows. And finally, I'm pondering the awesomeness that will be the uploading of all my college photography efforts. Oh, my secret artsyfartsyness, you will soon be revealed to all.

The question after THAT, of course, is... what if I did make my own dark room and develop my own negatives again? I could (theoretically) avoid the expenses of paper and enlargers by skipping that and just developing film to scan, and thus live in some crazy hybrid film/digital world. I'm not sure what the value would be, but I do keep saying that I need a hobby. This would actually be less expensive than replacing my film SLRs with digital, and I could explore that texture stuff I've been pondering. And plus... Ansel Adams wrote a whole damn book about negatives. There's something there. ;)

Novel rewrite

I'm having some very circular thoughts. There is a tiny but important piece of story logic that is missing from my novel, and my agent has offered suggestions--good ones--to nudge me into the right direction, and she's certainly right that I need to address it, but my brain is just running full-tilt around the mulberry bush and never finding the damn weasel.

If this were my dayjob, I'd send Outlook invites to a meeting and make people brainstorm with me on large pieces of paper.

Are writers allowed to do that?

Actually, I sort of think I need to ask [ profile] iuliamentis and [ profile] vidensadastra to read the book and then get them very drunk and see what comes out of them. Unfortunately, they're not coming to Penguicon. Hrm. I may be jaunting off to Chicago sooner than I thought... Of course, the workshop is coming fast, and maybe I can pick the workshoppers' brains hard while I'm there.

The rest of the rewrite, I can handle easily. Most of it is very minor stuff that I have figured out how to solve with a sentence dropped in here, a paragraph there. There is one largeish (10,000 words) section that needs a thorough rewrite, pretty much ground up. But not bad, overall.

Agent hunt

I'm supposed to be done with agent hunting, right? And I technically am. Except that, while my first three queries yielded me an offer of representation--they also yielded two rejections. And hey, my response to my first rejection was to send out six more queries! And I've since gotten two rejections, and two requests for partials. And one of the partial requests came in the snail, and I have to snail back my regrets letter. And who knows what the last two responses will be? Anyway. I'm not done, in other words.

When I am fully, finally done--is there anyone out there agent-hunting (or about to be) who would find it useful for me to perform a post-mortem on the hunt? Or is that just... annoying?

Being Erica

Am I the only person watching this show? I really love it. I know it's already aired in Canada, and it's being aired on the semi-obscure Soap Network in the US, but for serious, it's a good show, it passes the Bechdel test all over the place, and to me, it reads like an excellent take down of chick lit. You have a quirky heroine who actually accepts that her choices have led her to where she is, and instead of Bridget Jonesing her way through life, tries to come to terms with her past, owns and apologizes for her mistakes, and otherwise recognizes that one's 30s are actually a pretty good time to grow the hell up. (Not that I don't love Bridget Jones; I'm just very weary of all that has come after it. Bigly weary.) Plus, there's a time travel component. Which is always going to sell me.

So. Yes? Am I the only one watching?
mer: (Default)
Mr. Rochester is supposed to be UGLY. My textual evidence: let me show you it. )

And yet, Hollywood (okay, the BBC, really) persists in portraying Mr. Rochester with the hottest hotties that hotted. Like Toby Stephens.

Toby. Who also happens to be Dame Maggie Smith's son. I don't know how being Professor McGonnigal's son makes someone hotter, but it *does*. )
Also, don't you think Toby should totally play Damian Lewis's brother sometime?

Actually, I lied. Hollywood does an okay job at not finding the hottest hotties that hotted for the rest of the Rochesters. But they have yet to find anyone actually ugly for the role. I think Orson Welles comes closest:

Orson Welles. )

The forehead is so right! And he's not... chiselly. The way Toby is. And his eyes are skeery.

I disapproved of moon-faced Ciaran Hinds in this role, though I'm looking at the pics and thinking: you-gly.

I mean, seriously, especially compared to the hotness that is Ciaran Hinds as Caesar and Wentworth. )

And John Hurt is far too blond. And let us not speak of Timothy Dalton. He was up there way past Toby Stephens in the classically handsome land, though not personally to my taste.

So I started to really think: what DID Rochester look like? John C. Reilly? )

Nah. I probably only think that because of Orson Welles.

Mr. Rochester was Charlotte Bront;ë's weird mish-mash of (certainly) her youthful fantasies based on Lord Byron and (probably) the married man she fell in love with while at school in Brussels, Constantin Heger (also, her teacher). The physical descriptions of Heger and Rochester are pretty much a match, and Heger didn't mind reducing Charlotte to tears in the course of teaching her, which, okay, somehow fits with Rochester in my mind.

Heger )

So. Rochester is basically built like a wrestler, or... something. And looks like Heger. Ish. So....

This is what I'm thinking. )

Yes, that's professional wrestler Hunter Hearst Helmsley.

I am SO going to literary hell.

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