This hit me during the previews for T3...

Hollywood. now. Every Bigtime director is looking to out-do everyone else. Better effects, bigger budgets - everyone wants the holy grail of hollywood: the movie that sets the standard for all future movies. No one has hit that Matrix standard yet. B-movie director (modeled on Peter Jackson I think) - basic unknown, meets or knows a sort of nerdy genious who stumbles onto that elusive grail by developing a program that will leave all other directors, studios, producers in the dust. But they can't get anyone to buy into it. No one believes it will work (it's got to be something completely outrageous... work on that). So the story goes that my b-movie guy and his friend (a girl would be cool. Girl geeks rock) sell everything that can be sold, mortgage their properties up to their eyeball, cash in a small inheritance (anything that will give them a small but doable budget - work on that too). This program his friend has invented works so well, creates such perfect almost holographic images that they appear utterly real - so real that they don't need to hire actors. They quietly set about making this movie. They write the script, they produce, direct and eventually sell Hollywood on the idea of putting the holograms (yeah that's it, the program she develops creates perfect holographic images a la Star Trek and they are able to reproduce big hollywood names starring in their little movie) in movies. Actors don't lose out (at first) because they can sell their image for millions of dollars to be used. They can dictate the films their hologram appears in - the only thing they can't do is dictate how they are directed.

Getting ahead of myself tho and I'm totally just writing this off the top of my head. My first thought was just to write a basic b-movie director makes good kind of story now I'm doing sci-fi and that scares me. Need to think more on this one because there's a plot in there somewhere

It's a Monday morning and I'm so thoroughly inspired by JK Rowling. What a wonderful hero she is. But I don't think I'd want the pressures she's under *shudder* too much. I couldn't standfeeling the weight of millions of readers complaining constantly about the lack of the next book in a series. But hey, single mum, struggling to pay the bill, now richer than the Queen. Can't argue with that. I think that's what I admire so much. Sure I adore the Hp books, but I'm more impressed she at what she's accomplished. I'm probably a bit jealous as well.

I wish I could write - anything - and get it published. I think that's my holdup really, the fear of never getting it published. My mom was a wonderful writer and yet she never managed to get much beyond the odd poem published. I have this overwhelming desire to leave some kind of mark on the world after i die. Maybe that's just my fear of death talking I dunno. I just wish I could be known for something because sometimes I feel like I'm so insignificant and what's the point of it all. Then I think that I'm being selfish and silly about it and dismiss those insiginificant thoughts. But everytime I start thinking about writing I invariably end up wondering why I want to write so much. And I am still waiting for the "big idea" to hit. I have all kinds of little storylines in my head but none of them are good for much. And who am I to think that I have any kind of hope for getting a book written much less published.

Oh the angsty self-doubt, how I love thee. I guess I need a dose of confidence. Maybe that's why I started this blog, in the hopes that I'd get a little feedback from some anonymous netizen out there who doesn't know and isn't biased but thinks I'm not a bad writer. But then again driving traffic to a website is a fecking nightmare and a half. Anyway I knew when I was writing fanfic a while back that got a lot of positive feedback is what kept me writing. I am a feedback whore, no doubt but it's a confidence thing. If you discover ppl you don't even know think you're good, you're bound to want to write more to please them and give them what they want, which is what I was doing. And I miss that. But I don't want to write fanfic anymore. I'm not much inspired - then again maybe I need that shot in the arm. Maybe I should open a fanfic forum on my site and let everyone contribute. I dunno. If I write fic again it's not going to be slashy and I kind of think that is what people want. I dunno. Maybe I'll go write some Shinzon fic or something. I'm still lusting after him

Ok freewrite over.

I'm going to try something with a story I've finished. I'm going to flesh it out and start posting here a little at a time. I feel a great need to try and write something. I'm just not flush with ideas atm so maybe this little exercise will help. I don't know. I'll try anything


nevermind, didn't do it

Historical fiction. Not really all that far from fan fiction really. Uses characters that exist/existed, exerts the author's imagination into known situations and scenes. I wonder if it has the same stigma fan fic does.

I'll tell you what made me think about this, and it began when I watched 'Hitler: The Rise of Evil' on CBS this week. I have always been fascinated with the Holocaust and the struggles and atrocities suffered by the Jews (not fascinated so much as horrified yet entranced by the fact that it actually happened.)
But I never knew much beyond the basics about Hitler himself. In fact, about all I knew was he was a hypnotic orator, and then a monster, and then he killed himself. Sad eh? So after watching this movie I discovered he had, or might have had some sort of perverse relationship with his niece, Geli and I looked up some info online about it. In doing that, I stumbled onto a book called Hitler's Niece which is... dum dum dum.... historical fiction about that whole 'affair'.

I'm gonna read that book and see what I thinkabout trying my hand at some historical fiction myself afters.

I'm going to try some freewriting for a bit. If it seems scattered and bizarre, well that's a good indicator of where my head is (For anyone reading this who doesn't know what I mean by Freewrite, it just means that I set an amount of time, five minutes perhaps, where I have to continune typing/writing nonstop. So I basically just type anything that pops in my head, and if I get stuck I type the same word over and over again until something new comes along. Sometimes it's all gibberish and nonsensical, sometimes nifty ideas are born. We shall see.)

Here goes....
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So Michael Jackson's on my Launch station at the moment. What a freak. Ack I backspaced, not meant to do that. I guess it's just the weirdness that is Michael Jackson that tripped me up. I have a bad habit of editing as I type rather than going back to re-read what i wrote. I dunno why I'm rambling about that. What i really need to do is concentrate on a story idea of some kind. I had the Mary idea but just couldn't develop it. I think I vaccillated too much on which way I wanted to go with it. Can I do horror really? I doubt it. It would just come out cheesy. It's hard to put the suspense elements in and ultimately, that's what I like most in a horror movie or story - suspense. Keep your fecking gory shite - yick that's gross gross gross gross. Really gross - hehe see? I got stuck on gross. Meth can kill you you know. Advert on Launch comparing your heart on meth and your normal heartbeat which I suppose leads to a heart attack. I don't know I've never tried Meth. And I never will. Drugs are bad. Well duh. Thank you Reagan Reagan Reagan.... Is he dead yet? I can't remember if he died. So anyway, skeletons in the closet, let's see.. What about a story about someone going to any and every length to hide a skeleton in his closet - like he murdered someone..... hmmm Is that too Poe? I don't know. He feels no remorse cos he's a total sociopath. He just doesn't want to get caught and ruin his perfect life. Say he murdered a child? No ewwww I can't write about a child's death. So he murdered... who did he murder. Whooo... ummm, a hooker? no, hate to say it, too inconsequential. No one would care. sad but true. He killed someone high profile and the skeleton is literally in his closet. Hehehee. How the feck do you cover that up? I dunno..
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Ah that was a ten minute free write then. Didn't go too badly. I paused a lot though. The trick is to just type, but my damn habit of correcting typos etc as i go got in the way. And I have a bad alt-tab habit too. I multitask too much. Ah well, will work on that.

She was sublime, this love of mine. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can see her moving through my mind like smooth velvet. I can see her walking towards me with that Cheshire cat grin and those come-fuck-me eyes. Her long, ebony hair swirls around her face like heavy storm clouds moving swiftly through the sky. I catch a glimpse of her thigh as it peeks through the slit in her red satin nightgown and it makes me shiver. I hold out my arms and wait for my ghost-lover to step into them, only to be disappointed because I will never feel her against my body again. Instead I can only hover above and watch while my only love lies with my best friend, and murderer.

I met her at a party. She was hanging on the arm of some oily executive from the office looking bored and sipping champagne. She looked so out of place amongst the riff raff that normally came to these kinds of soirees. Oily Exec spotted me and dragged her over with him over to meet me. But I didn’t pay attention to him. My eyes were held by hers the entire time, as if a powerful magnet had caught us in its pull. She glowed, politely smiling at the idiot on her arm, never taking her eyes off of me. I felt nervous and my stomach knotted up in the presence of this beautiful woman.

When he finally got around to introducing us, she reached out, with both hands and clasped mine, not even the slightest bit bothered by the clamminess. She leaned in close to me and with a husky voice whispered, “A pleasure…”. Sweet words. Her hair brushed against my cheek and it felt like silk. I inhaled the intoxicating scent of lavender when she stood oh so close to me and that was when I knew I was hers. She stepped back and kept her eyes on me, rarely breaking my stare as we made small talk with the executive. Oh he was typical, showing off for her and boasting of the exotic places he’d been in. But I’d seen it all before and took little notice.

Eventually we were joined by Eric, my best friend and more introductions were made – God I what I wouldn’t give to somehow move back in time and change that moment. If only I had seen the look of pure carnal lust on Eric’s face when he saw my Ana (for I had already come to think of her this way). If only I hadn’t been so blinded by her presence, I might have been able to see it coming. I hate that saying “hindsight is 20/20”, it really galls me, but I was too captivated by her. Eric and Oily Exec (I never did learn his name) became peripheral figures to be kept just on the edges of my vision while I drank in her every curve, her every gesture. When she spoke to me her voice resonated throughout my body and set every nerve on fire.

As time went on and it became glaringly obvious to the others that we would have no words for them this night, they drifted away and Ana and I became ensconced in one of those conversations you end up remembering your entire life. We left the venue together and went back to my hotel room, foregoing the rest of the party and leaving everyone wondering where I’d gone. We never stopped talking as we made our way to the room, each of us spilling our pasts as if we’d known each other forever.

We talked about God and our mutual disillusionment with religion in general. I discovered she came from a broken home, the same as me. I told her things I’d never ever dreamt of telling anyone. The words just came tumbling out and she listened with a careful ear. I never got the sense that she was doing the ‘nod and smile’ thing while impatiently waiting for her turn to speak. Her beautiful face filled with concern and worry when I began to cry as I recounted some childhood scar that never quite healed. She placed a tender finger on my face and swiftly brushed aside the tears as they fell. When I was finally at a loss for words, and on the verge of a good cry-out, she kissed me and oh how I reeled! The sad thoughts left my head as quickly as they’d come in, replaced with thoughts of lust and desire. Her soft lips pressed against mine tasting of the strawberries I’d had sent up and I lapped at them hungrily.

It breaks my heart to recall those moments of how her body felt to me that first time together. I ache for what I’ve lost and I burn with anger at the way I lost it. Such betrayal, such wretched betrayal fills me with a violent wave of fury that makes me want to smash mirrors and hurl heavy chairs through plate glass.

And now, as I hover above my Ana as she makes love to Eric, I feel that white-hot anger course through me until I feel I could burst. I see her head thrown back in ecstasy as she rides him, her mouth parted and I want to invade her body with my ghostly one and force her to feel my pain and see the truth. I want to invade Eric and pulverize his insides with my fists so that he could have a faint idea of what I feel like all the time now.

But I don’t. I can’t. I love her too much to hurt her. Instead I continue to watch, torturing myself. I listen, but when she fucks, she doesn’t make a single sound. I’m not in her world anymore.

Mary isn't going anywhere and I've been woefully neglecting this here. I was thinking about this the other day and I decided that perhaps I was using this the wrong way. Instead of sticking to one story idea and following it, I'm going to use it as a receptacle for all my story ideas and follow them along until I either finish them or I lose them. Maybe that way I'll hit upon the one idea that works, know what I mean?

Some time ago I wrote some short stories in the fanfic genre and I'm going to be reworking some of them to turn them into original fics and then I'll post them here, just as a way to keep me focused and remind me that I actually CAN do it if I try.

I've got one re-written already. It's not long and it's bit of a weird story but I like it. I'll post it next.

Now I'm stuck on the name. Mary? It's kind of a nondescript little name I guess, but do I want that or should she have some weird name. Or should I scrap this idea altogether and think of something else?

There's Mary, of course. She's a loner, misfit type who never fits in. The popular kids... I think there should be 3 or 4 of them that are close friends. I'll have to think up names a little later. I don't think I want there to be many main adult characters, so if I include anyone like Mary's family or teachers, they'll be peripheral at best. I might include a couple of boys in the tease crowd. I think girls can be more on the mean side than boys, but I think there should be a balance. Ok so I'll start with this and refine it later:

The popular girls:

Sidney - She is pretty much the 'leader' and instigator when it comes to tormenting Mary. She's just got a mean streak about her, but the thing is, she's good at concealing it and at an early age, has learned to manipulate people into thinking she can do no wrong. She is sweetness and light to the adults, but even her friends are a little afraid of her. Definitely dominant, extroverted.
She will eventually go on to do well in school, and of course her family will send her to the upscale university nearby. If I have her live that long. I'm thinking that Mary's stories culminate before any of these people reach adulthood. Still pondering that.

Jenny - Bubbly, cheerleader type for sure. She's pretty, rich, fairly nice person really, but Sidney has some sort of hold on her. Need to decide if Sidney possibly exploits a weakness in her character - low self-esteem or something like that, to get her to do what she wants.

Kirsten - Kirsten is a follower, sort of the lapdog of the group. She has very little conscience of her own and so feels little guilt over the tricks and humiliations they perform on Mary. A bit of a sociopath in designer jeans.

These three have known each other all their lives. They live on the same block, in one of the upscale neighbourhoods. Their parents go to the same country club, same parties. So they will naturally be the ones to gang up on Mary, who isn't from a rich family. She isn't poor per se, kind of lower-middle class. But she is an only child with a single mother who works all the time and has little time for Mary.

This is all preliminary for now.. I'll flesh it out some more later.