I have created a monster
Sep. 28th, 2010 11:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgThe kind of monster, I suspect, that never gets anything finished.
On Sunday night I experienced the joy and wonder that is food poisoning from contaminated mung beans*. In the past I had a little routine to rinse my mung beans thoroughly, but it's been a while, the packaging changed and what can I say, but I didn't rinse my mung beans.
People: rinse your mung beans, thoroughly.
Thankfully I appear to have an efficient ejection reflex when it comes to standard toxins. Perhaps that's something I developed in compensation for the ridiculously high number of substances that my system chooses to interpret as toxins, but only after they've had a chance to hit my liver. After a couple of days on (preservative-free) soft fluffy white bread and greatly-missed tiny smears of Vegemite, the insides inform me that all is forgiven and nothing bad had time to be absorbed. The squelchy bits of my insides are ok; the bits responsible for the mechanics of turning one inside out for hours on end are not so quick to forgive. Two billion crunches? Coming right up!
So to speak.
In hindsight I am also a little relieved, for in that magic hour between hmmm-I-feel-a-little-off (which quite frankly describes most of my life) and OMG-RUN-[censored]! I lost all enthusiasm for The Book. At the time I thought this just meant that I'd run out of inspiration (or whatever) and it was time to buckle down and flesh out the notes into prose. I haven't exactly been pouring out the words since, but I'm more confident now that I'll get back into the swing of things when I next recover from this exhaustion gig.
I did, however, have another idea for a short story, on the logistics of startup evil. Volcano lairs don't just pop into existence; someone has to design and build the things. Armies of minions have to come from somewhere. Someone has to choose the jumpsuit colour. Killer laser research is expensive stuff, and I can't imagine any sensible institution offering bridging finance for Evil Plan Development until the next major heist or international blackmail cheque clears. That sort of thing. I blame several months worth of Bond film watching and associated screen hectoring and fist waving. I feel I have finally harnessed the power of The Rant.
Why yes, I once worked on research funding applications at a university. Does it show? Or perhaps it's the years spent working in bleeding edge tech companies that spent a not inconsiderable chunk of their resources chasing venture capital.
So I've roughed out the notes for this story because it just wouldn't let me do otherwise, and hopefully it will go back in its box until I'm ready for it. I'm also pleased because it answers one of the questions that my sub-conscious has been throwing at me: what if I never come up with another story idea? What if The Book suceeds on some level and I have to produce The Difficult Second Album?
Way to go, subconscious, fearing success waaaaay in advance. Nice one. Very practical. Very helpful. Any chance of some energy to finish the first one? As somthing in the way of motivation I have pre- pre- pre- registered for a Swancon writing workshop, so I have a deadline of sorts to have something worth showing to strangers. There's another corner of my subconscious that tells me I'll never achieve real respect in the Swancon community until I've published fiction. Words. Words of fiction matter more than costumes and art and panels and a measly single year of committee-hood. I want that to be bollocks, but that's just another word, isn't it?
Aaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhhh.
Damn, I've just done another Writing Is Hard post. Sorry.
(*) While it is true that I also reviewed one of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mynxii's essays in the same time frame, I'm pretty sure it wasn't quite *that* bad.
On Sunday night I experienced the joy and wonder that is food poisoning from contaminated mung beans*. In the past I had a little routine to rinse my mung beans thoroughly, but it's been a while, the packaging changed and what can I say, but I didn't rinse my mung beans.
People: rinse your mung beans, thoroughly.
Thankfully I appear to have an efficient ejection reflex when it comes to standard toxins. Perhaps that's something I developed in compensation for the ridiculously high number of substances that my system chooses to interpret as toxins, but only after they've had a chance to hit my liver. After a couple of days on (preservative-free) soft fluffy white bread and greatly-missed tiny smears of Vegemite, the insides inform me that all is forgiven and nothing bad had time to be absorbed. The squelchy bits of my insides are ok; the bits responsible for the mechanics of turning one inside out for hours on end are not so quick to forgive. Two billion crunches? Coming right up!
So to speak.
In hindsight I am also a little relieved, for in that magic hour between hmmm-I-feel-a-little-off (which quite frankly describes most of my life) and OMG-RUN-[censored]! I lost all enthusiasm for The Book. At the time I thought this just meant that I'd run out of inspiration (or whatever) and it was time to buckle down and flesh out the notes into prose. I haven't exactly been pouring out the words since, but I'm more confident now that I'll get back into the swing of things when I next recover from this exhaustion gig.
I did, however, have another idea for a short story, on the logistics of startup evil. Volcano lairs don't just pop into existence; someone has to design and build the things. Armies of minions have to come from somewhere. Someone has to choose the jumpsuit colour. Killer laser research is expensive stuff, and I can't imagine any sensible institution offering bridging finance for Evil Plan Development until the next major heist or international blackmail cheque clears. That sort of thing. I blame several months worth of Bond film watching and associated screen hectoring and fist waving. I feel I have finally harnessed the power of The Rant.
Why yes, I once worked on research funding applications at a university. Does it show? Or perhaps it's the years spent working in bleeding edge tech companies that spent a not inconsiderable chunk of their resources chasing venture capital.
So I've roughed out the notes for this story because it just wouldn't let me do otherwise, and hopefully it will go back in its box until I'm ready for it. I'm also pleased because it answers one of the questions that my sub-conscious has been throwing at me: what if I never come up with another story idea? What if The Book suceeds on some level and I have to produce The Difficult Second Album?
Way to go, subconscious, fearing success waaaaay in advance. Nice one. Very practical. Very helpful. Any chance of some energy to finish the first one? As somthing in the way of motivation I have pre- pre- pre- registered for a Swancon writing workshop, so I have a deadline of sorts to have something worth showing to strangers. There's another corner of my subconscious that tells me I'll never achieve real respect in the Swancon community until I've published fiction. Words. Words of fiction matter more than costumes and art and panels and a measly single year of committee-hood. I want that to be bollocks, but that's just another word, isn't it?
Aaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhhh.
Damn, I've just done another Writing Is Hard post. Sorry.
(*) While it is true that I also reviewed one of
mynxii's essays in the same time frame, I'm pretty sure it wasn't quite *that* bad.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-09-29 02:12 am (UTC)I'm sure it will not be anything I might feature in the Iron Brain next year. So you're good.
Speaking of which, will you be defending the title in 2011? :)
no subject
Date: 2010-09-29 05:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-30 06:07 pm (UTC)Just hoping to see you defend the title against all comers. I shall be mining the best dreck I can find. And there will be Gor novels to mock. :P