Being a Homicidal Maniac...I mean...Writer.

The lone typewriter. The writer's sanctuary. A cup of pencils for editing, plenty of paper, a pack of cigarettes, an ash tray, and the most peaceful atmosphere you can imagine. Isolation. Pure, wonderful isolation. Dim lights. A thick wooden desk. Quiet. Silence. No hustle and bustle or sound of traffic. Just a typewriter, a desk, a chair and you with your brilliant ideas.
Suddenly, your silence is shattered. It could be anyone. A loved one, probably. Someone who has been rooting for you. Someone who wants you to be published and succeed at this finicky, difficult art. You want to be receptive to them. Still...they've interrupted you. They've managed to destroy your concentration. You try to be patient. They ask you something ridiculously asinine, like, "Get a lot of writing done?" or maybe they bring up the weather like you're supposed to care. You answer with monosyllabic replies, trying hard to get them to see that you need to be left alone. By the end of the conversation, you bite their head clean off their shoulders. You tried. Non-writers simply don't understand writers.
It's not finished yet, but you leave it behind to get something to eat or take a short walk. Maybe throw a tennis ball against the wall. It's delicate right now. Not what you would consider "good" by any stretch of the imagination. It's tender and raw, like an opened wound. Lo and behold, they look at it in its worst form. Pre-revision...pre-edit...they hit you at your most vulnerable simply because of their ignorant, idle curiosity. How could they? You weren't ready yet! It's like someone peering over your shoulder at a coffee shop. Or maybe even looking up your skirt or going through your underwear drawer.
So of course, like the writer you are, you handle the situation accordingly. With love, patience and understanding. Just because you're vulnerable, preparing to query and at your lowest point before possible success...that doesn't mean you're going to take it out on the people you love the most.

Peace out. Be gone a week in isolation in Utah so I can work on the query letter and try to accomplish something without other distractions. Writing in isolation can be productive...and scary. >:)

Awkward yet charming?

I'm figuring out a Steampunk outfit. Bonnie Hearn Hill got me a jacket for being a finisher. (I need to do her justice by getting a query letter out there, by jove.) It's the jacket I listed in the last blog. Excuse me for only addressing fashion lately. That's just what I've been into.

Here is an awkward picture of me in front of my closet mirror with a messy room behind me. I'm not sure why I'm posing like that...but hey. There you go. The jeans aren't my favorite part of it, although they do have some neat zippers you can't see. The boots are Target, the top hat was a gift from my cousin and sister from years past, long before I discovered this genre. (Organic writing.) I'm wearing a corset I actually purchased from Charlotte Russe, who just happened to have a load of them for sale. Kind of funny timing, but I suppose we are coming up on Halloween, where there will be tons of pirate wenches, slutty barmaids, vampire queens and dominatrixes. Or dominatrixen?

Anyway, like I said. Terrible pictures, especially since they're taken with an ancient Blackberry. [I'm in desperate need of a new phone but being an adult is expensive, it turns out.] But I've decided to record my Steampunk fashion progress. It can be an expensive genre to try and dress for! Sheesh. But so fun. And complimentary! Corsets do wonders for the figure. Whoduh thunk? Haha.

Happy Friday.

Clothes, clothes, clothes.

Bonnie introduced me to Pyramid clothing. They specialize in a lot of Gothic stuff. It's pretty cool, most of it. They also do STEAMPUNK. Ow, ow, ow.

http://tinyurl.com/3mts36c

The link is there. Here is a super lame MS paint copy and paste of what they do. So kewl.

Tour De Eleanor Rigby- Soulwax

My cousin found this a while back and it seems very SP to me. Check it out.

Everybody has to have a weird pair of glasses on their head at some point.

It's true. That plaid-wearing fool to the right is me. That's part of my job, to wear those. Many an individual has come in and chortled, especially since I wear them over my original spectacles. The fact of the matter is that I'm officially a locksmith, but also still training. As soon as I feel like I'm really good at it, I'm going to get an antique key tattooed onto my rib area, which will hurt like a bastard and be widely viewed as unnecessary, but nothin' doin' to somebody who already has three.
I apologize for being away. I just purchased a new house and have been dealing with lots of work, lots of revising, lots of moving, lots of cleaning and interior decorating and lots and LOTS of self-evaluation. Prioritizing.
I'm not going to talk long, as I don't have anything incredibly interesting to talk about and the last thing I want is to make this blog a Me-Me exhibit. But, I will say that being a writer is definitely a full-time job and I hope to be free enough to handle it someday. I'm also searching for the Mad Hatter to my March Hare. (You know. A dude.) I've been sitting at this mad tea party solo for far too long. I'm hoping publication will open some doors, as I tend to spend my 8 hour work day around 21 year olds and 45-60 year olds. See, I'm somewhere in the middle of that, so it's not exactly helpful. Anyway, if you've seen the guy to the left there, let me know. He's got a tea party he needs to get to. Pronto.

-MKB

Ode to Severus Snape

Spoiler Alert: If you do live under a rock and are just now re-emerging to experience the fantasy masterpiece that is Harry Potter, then don't read this because it's a hell of a spoiler to one of the deepest parts of the whole series. You know...just covering my bases here.

It had been my theory for a long time that Snape was a good guy. I think it was obvious to a lot of people who counted themselves in with the Harry Potter following. He was too easily disliked to be a bad guy.

He emerged as one of the best righthand men ever. Also one of the most devoted lovers. The root of his love for Lily Potter was deep and impossible to destroy, even when he failed romantically and was forced to surrender her to somebody he despised. One of the most tragic parts of his whole persona was the fact that he led to his own downfall when he elected to join the Death Eaters. And yet, every human being on the planet can be accused of following the wrong crowd at a certain point in his or her life. Snape was only of these, who would end up turning back to Albus Dumbledore and becoming one of the most invaluable allies Harry Potter had.

My biggest fear in watching this final movie was that it would cheapen Severus' death and value. Sometimes when book movies are trying to cover all of their bases, they skip over the parts we personally hold on a pedestal.

I was not disappointed, however, and I am one of the harshest cinematic critics I know, especially when it comes to literary movies. The theater was silent as we were given a touching flashback to Severus' painful history. How much he suffered, how little he was rewarded and the intensity of his loyalty to Dumbledore even after the failure in protecting Lily Potter. Also, how he had to begrudgingly protect Harry, who resembled James even more than Lily. Harry, who represented Severus' painful shortcomings and served as a reminder that Servus A.) Did NOT get the girl B.) Chose the wrong side and C.) Will have to act as a malicious, dark, oily worm when he's really one of the bravest allies Harry has had.

So complete was Severus' painful act of protection and allegiance that he was forced to destroy the very man who was his leader. More so, he had to act as an ally to the villain who murdered his purest love.

J.K. Rowling weaved a beautiful character in Severus Snape. I could only someday hope to mimic that perfection the slightest bit in my own work. He's my favorite character in the Harry Potter series because of his complexity and how fiercely JK herself knew him inside and out. He is more proof that characters make good fiction.

RIP Severus. You did not die in vain, my friend. And kudos to Alan Rickman for doing a brilliant job. I wept more during his movie moments than any of the others.

Breathe!

Life is exciting when you're a writer. Monday comes around and even if you dread your Joe job (if you have a Joe job and haven't "made it" yet), you've got a whole other world in your brain. Even non-fiction, you're weaving. You're an artist! Life is good!
Of course, being a writer comes with angst, desperation, frustration and unyielding persistence. But still. We are a strange people. We dwell in the quiet because our minds are loud. We like our books to be the center of attention but we don't necessarily want the same things for ourselves. We are comfortable with silence and uncomfortable with constant banter. It's like trying to think of a melody when somebody else is singing REO Speedwagon really loudly in your ear. Almost impossible. In order for the dialogues, scenery and description to commence within our brains, the real world needs to settle down and let us think for just one moment.
On this Monday morning, I am full of ideas. Granted, I've been full of ideas since I can remember. But today, I'm overflowing with ambition linked with these ideas. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that publication is imminent. I will not rest until this Steampunk creature I've bolted together in the laboratory has some electricity put into it and it rises up off the table and starts to walk around and torment people as it's tormented me for so long. (In a good way.)
I hope you feel the same way about your work. Or, if you're already successful, that you felt that way as you were marching through the gates, holding up your manuscript and shouting, "IT'S ALIIIIIIVE!"