a quick reminder...

for those of you who enjoyed the piece of writing i posted earlier this week, i do have a work-in-progress going right here on the blog. it's very much a rough draft, but i still welcome any feedback that you have. it's called "a definable moment in time" and new installments are posted on wednesdays and saturdays. you can't leave feedback directly on the page, but you can always send me comments privately.

[a.d.m.i.t. artwork by dominic f. marceau]

the new hotness?

as is customary on wednesdays, i've posted the latest installment of my ongoing fiction serial. thanks to those of you who've been reading/ supporting it!

in related news, dom came up with a name that quite suits it [in fact, he has no way of knowing exactly how suitable] :: a definable moment in time. he even came up with some book cover art, which will hopefully be unveiled at some point in the near future.

and i have a question for those of you who have been following this story so far ::

how would you feel about me posting these installments twice a week rather than once?

i don't want to overwhelm anyone and i know that everybody has things to do, but at the same time, i want everyone to get new bits quickly enough to keep their interest piqued. let me know what you think.

also, since i finished up my "30 days of lips" challenge, i asked for something new and fun i could do that would get me to plumb the depths of my cosmetic stash. and one clever lady came up with a great one- going through the collection alphabetically. so now, you'll note that there's a "colour by letters" page link on the upper right hand side of this page, where you'll see over the coming days just how well i know my abc's.

my heartfelt appreciation to everyone who reads these posts.

ahem

just letting you know that, as promised, the second installment of my serial story is now up. the first one remains there [i'll probably have to wipe the slate clean eventually, but for now, i'll just be leaving everything in tact.

you can access the tale by clicking on the "let me tell you a story" link or, if you prefer click here.

feedback is always welcome.

something's afoot!

i'll bet you're thinking this post is going to be about shoes aren't you?

please, come right in

never judge a blog post by it's title! this post is to call your attention to the fact that i've started to add not-so-secret pages to the blog, which will be dedicated to specific things. the first one i've established "let me tell you a story" will feature a serialised story- a new installment every week (something i tried before, but it sort of came off the rails). you can follow along with the adventures of heroine adela and give me feedback. i'll be keeping the excerpts fairly short, so that they're easier to read on screen.

i plan to have more of these pages up and running shortly and they will all appear in the same place- on the upper right hand part of the home page, just under the "about me" section.

hope you enjoy the first serial installment and, hey, if you come up with any suggestions for a title, please pass them on. this story has lived a long life just being called "the serial". it deserves better.

in place of sleep

for the last few weeks, i've followed the same routine on friday nights. i come home, i have dinner and spend some time with the only person crazy enough to live alongside my own craziness. eventually, i brew a pot of coffee and, around midnight, i sit down in front of the computer and start writing until i feel like i'm about to lose consciousness.

it occurred to me today that have really, really gotten to love my friday nights. despite the fact that i end up going to bed shortly before the sun comes up, despite the fact that i know when i go back to start reading the things i've written, i'm going to find all sorts of strange mistakes to testify to just how tired i was getting, this just seems to have become the time when i feel most relaxed and most able to accomplish something.

of course the problem now is that i've started wanting to do this every night, which can get a little tricky when you have a day job and have to get up at 6 in the morning (well, having the alarm go off at 6, which isn't quite the same thing as getting up, but close).

at any rate, it's late on friday and i've hit the point where i don't think i'm going to be creating anything more useful tonight. here's a short excerpt of what i've been working on. the adventure continues...

***

“So now what?” She says it aloud exactly as her uncle says it, mimicking his clipped, deadpan voice.

The answer had always been hers to give. She could have what she wanted, all she had to do was ask. Perhaps, she thinks, she’d feel better if she just ran back to him, to his giant, empty house, with its scents of flowers in the front garden. She knows this isn’t the first time this thought has occurred to her, but it is the first in a while. She could go back, of course, whenever she wants, without asking, without even letting him know to expect her. She could walk through the streets and feel at home and eventually she would forget this place and Adam would become another confusing spirit whose real existence melted into her over-active imagination. She believes that she could forget.

The book glares at her accusingly. Would she forget it? She wants to think she could. It isn’t difficult for her to free her memories. Unless she concentrates on holding tight, most of them just fly away of their own accord. And yet somehow, she can’t quite think of the mark left on her by these mysteries surrounding Cronos, her shadowy benefactor, as something that she could release. Like the memory of crying as she was carried away by the woman in the scratchy brown suit, some things she can’t get rid of.

So now what?

She runs her finger over the carefully recorded notes, trying to feel out the story that lies underneath them. It’s no use. For all the pages she’s filled, for all the talking she and Lloyd did, for all the details they were able to recall, the sobering fact remains that the two of them really don’t know much at all about what happened, either with Cronos or the book.

resurrection

a few of you- i won't name names, but you know who you are and i hope you know how much your feedback and interest has meant to me- may remember that i was for several months posting episodes of a story for public (or at least friend) consumption.

that got put on hold indefinitely as i put my energies into a screenplay and then, of course, getting that screenplay ("conversion" if anyone hasn't heard me talk about it enough) filmed this summer.

now that filming has been over and the pieces of the picture have been handed over to experts in post-production, i have the time to be creative again, something i really haven't indulged in for a year. i thought about all the new things i could work on, but, in the end, the unfinished serial called to me.

so i'm redoubling my efforts and throwing myself into the task of getting this completed.

since i'm not publishing it in serial form any more, it isn't a serial. i'm not sure what it is. i just know that it's growing and keeping me busy.

here's a short excerpt of a recently written part (very rough), to let those of you who supported the project know that it lives again and has some kind of future and to give those who don't know me that well a chance to see what something i write reads like. as i said, it's very much a first pass and is presented completely out of context.

thanks for reading...

***

A young man, dressed in a black suit similar to those at the table, bursts into the room from a passage in the back. He is obviously animated and, unlike the others, his suit shows signs of his having recently been in a fight. He speaks almost at the top of his voice, in a language Adela doesn’t understand but guesses to be a form of Chinese. He gesticulates frantically, but as he does, she notices he is distinctly favouring his left arm, that he seems almost unable to lift it. The other men at the table rumble to life. They rise with a thunder clap of guttural noises, and follow him out the same point where he entered.

A few seconds later, Adela hears a thud, a security door, she imagines, being thrown open with considerable force. The owner continues to polish her cutlery, without looking up, observing each piece to see the reflection of the gaudy interior lights on its surface.

“This might be a good time to go,” Lloyd mutters tensely.

“Probably.”

He drops some money on the table and pulls her out of the room. As they disappear into the vestibule, Adela can still see the flicker of forks and knives through the smudged door.

The street is desolate of traffic and people, save for a few unfortunates who are making a bed in the thresholds of shops. A stinking river, most likely effluent from the restaurants and dingy grocery stores up the hill, slithers towards them and beyond, into the sewer. This, thinks Adela, is what people mean when they say ‘the dead of night’.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh fine.”

“I realize you probably want to go home and sleep, but, in the interests of helping, I was thinking it might be an idea to find somewhere else to sit for a while and make notes on everything we talked about. Maybe we’ll start to see some sense in it.

“At the very least, it’ll mean that you’ll be able to refer to it, in case it gets knocked from your memory.”

Adela gives a weary smile. “I don’t sleep, actually. You’re the one who has to get up early in the morning to open the shop, so if you’re up for it, great.”

“Well, one of the perks of being the boss is that you get to make and break the rules. No one cares if I sleep in.”

He starts off, pressing a hand against her elbow, guiding her forward. The streetlights buzz like a swarm of hornets overhead, throwing shadows in every direction. Adela tries to focus on what her companion is saying, but her eyes turn unconsciously towards the starless city sky.