September 14th, 2006

bear by san


If you feel the need to qualify whatever you were about to post in my comments with words like "pedantic" or "silly" or phrases like "I don't mean to sound condescending"?

For christ's sake, listen to the smoke signals from your subconscious, and go yell at the cat instead. Because I am not in a fine mood of human charity and brotherhood this day of all days.

Consider this the red rag tied around my tail, if you will.

bear by san


I invoke the mailbox voodoo.

It is by will alone I summon editorial responses.
It is by the mailbox voodoo that the nomailman brings SASEs, the story acquires contracts, the contracts become paychecks.
It is by will alone I do not starve in gutters garrets.
bear by san

okay, you know that scaffolding thing I'm always talking about?

Here's how it works: the old and the new-revised paragraphs from By the Mountain Bound.


My hearing is so keen as to catch the cries of surprise from the town when the moonlight puddles like mercury on the surface of the ocean and an enormous pillar of a neck rises up out of the waves, shedding glowing seawater. The form is translucent, seemingly wrought from starlight and air, but the wind of its gestures brushes my skin as it sways heavily from side to side, starlit eyes gleaming in its tendriled head.


Moonlight like mercury puddles on an ocean lain smooth. Faint cries ring from the docks. A pillar of neck rises, shedding glowing water, reeking of salt rot and ocean bottoms. It sways heavily, starlit eyes gleaming in a tendriled head--translucent, wrought of starlight and air, but the wind of its gestures brushes my skin.

The second one, as you can tell, has an absolute mess of useless verbiage snipped out, and its line of direction is improved as well.

Yes, dammit, I am getting better at this.

(I'm also revising to better catch a character voice, but that's neither here nor there. Also, no wonder this is taking for freaking ever.)

And, because I was wasting some time, I made an animated .gif of what the external portion of the editing process looks like. It's Collapse )

It's not the writing. It's the revising, after all.
bear by san

If you think you're Superman, I'm the Kryptonite;

If you think you're Lancelot, I'm the black knight.

cpolk, this means you.

Crank up your speakers.

Go here.

Click on track 24.

Thank me later, after you're too tired to dance anymore, or the neighbors start to complain.

(radical drums and a fat horn section. How can you say no? You can't, that's how. Thank you, Radio Paradise.)
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