rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
Five years ago, I wrote a fairytale for my partner for our third anniversary. You can find that here. For our eighth(!) anniversary, I wrote a companion story, which you can find right here. You don't have to read the other one first, but it helps.

Licensed under creative commons BY-NC-SA.

This Is Not A Fairytale )


Jul. 13th, 2013 12:35 pm
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
Here's the brain weasel that's been keeping me up at night and stopping me posting: "you are not a real writer because right now you are prioritizing your mental health".

It is a stupid weasel and it is fired. How can anyone write when most of their brain is busy checking the room for insects? But that is not a permanent state of being. It might take a while to get through, but it can be got through. And then I will write again. And regardless of which period I'm in, I'm still a real writer. I don't know what a fake writer looks like; I don't think there is such a thing.
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
I think I saw someone tweet or post about tools you use as a writer, and I wondered if I had any specific to my current theme of talking about mental illness. Turns out, I do. See, my day-to-day peace of mind relies very heavily on two meds which have both good and bad sides. I take fluoxetine (commonly known as Prozac) for my depression, and pregabalin (Lyrica) for my anxiety.

Whatever Robin Hobb has to say about it, I couldn't be me without medication (right now). Screw that "will I ever be myself again" -- if you've ever had medication make a difference for you, you know it isn't a case of it "damping down" the real you. It can give you yourself back. Nearly a year after starting on pregabalin, and I'm doing things I wasn't able to do from being very small. And it's not because pregabalin muscles on in here and takes over for me -- it's still me, it's just a me without the adrenalin kicking in over the stupidest of things.

But sometimes to get this stuff you do have to pay, and sometimes I get worried that I'll pay with my abilities as a writer (such as they are). I always had a very good memory, but now I'll put my pen down and be completely unable to find it when I come back five minutes later, because I just cannot remember where it went. Or I'll be looking for a quotation to use in an essay, but I can't find it, because I can't even remember the title of the book it's from.

And words -- ugh! Don't get me started. I did it in yesterday's post: it wasn't a typo, it was a "Lyrica moment" (as I put it). I typed "angle" instead of "ankle", and didn't notice at all. Typing is a matter of muscle memory for me; I simply wouldn't get it wrong by that many keys over. So it was something in my brain that substituted the word 'angle' for 'ankle'. I think that happens to everyone sometimes, but it happens to me appreciably more since I started taking pregabalin.

And from the combination of fluoxetine and pregabalin, I am simply so dopey sometimes. It takes me a long time to wake up, I zone out in the middle of conversations, I need things to be explained to me multiple times...

And my tool for fighting all that, and therefore the most important tool in my kit as a writer, has been crosswords. I've noticed that when I start the day by helping with the crossword in the paper, I continue the day much quicker on my mental feet. So now I don't even wait for the newspaper. As soon as my alarm goes, I'm opening the app on my phone and pulling up a random crossword. I've done it with strategy games, too: Kingdom Rush proved quite useful.

Actually, I guess you could call fluoxetine, pregabalin, and the apps I use to counteract their side effects tools I use for writing. Take out any side of the equation and I suck at life, and therefore at writing.

Moral of the story, if you need one, is not to let your writing be an excuse to avoid medication or some kind of treatment. You could be driving yourself into a brick wall. Maybe it'll take some false starts and you won't be as lucky as me in finding two medications right off the bat that help so much without cutting down your ability to do whatever's most important to you. Maybe you will.
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
I missed posting yesterday. It was a bad brain day: crying for no reason, being a whiny brat at people, being clingy, poor impulse control, the lot. I have a counselling appointment on Tuesday and let me tell you, I need it.

One day I should tell you all about healthcare in Wales. The short version is: we have an awesome thing where we get our prescriptions free. We have a not-awesome thing where our doctors refuse to refer us for treatment (whether it be psychological or surgical or whatever) to get us off said medications. And then blame us for the NHS being short of money.

(The long version involves me being told I wasn't sick enough, despite verbalising that I was so anxious I would really prefer not to exist.)

Anyway, pondering the post of two days ago, rules for real writers, it occurred to me that it didn't really cover what I think really makes you a writer. What you should really do to qualify. So here it is.

1. Write when you can. Which is to say, don't write when you can't. Treat writing like training for a 10k, or studying for an exam. You're gonna have to do a certain amount of work to get there, but there's no point in running on a broken angle or studying when you have a migraine. In fact, you're going to make things worse.

And you can't rely on anyone else's training plans, either. I've switched my 10k training plan three times now, because I'm still in the process of figuring out what works for me. I used to do NaNoWriMo, but it turned out that while I got stuff written, I burnt myself and the idea out in the process. That's not productive. But likewise, writing less for 365 days a year doesn't work for me either: I produce utter crap, day after day, and it isn't worth doing.

So yeah, write. That is crucial, but learn how you need to write, too.

2. Experience the world as much as you can. Stretch your limits. If you're sighted, learn to read simple braille. If you're deaf, read about musical theory. If you can only speak your native tongue, read books in translation. Or learn another language. If you're useless at crafts, you can still benefit by listening to other people talk about their knitting. Talk to people through whatever medium you can. If you don't have the spoons to go to the pub, pop into a chatroom. If you have social anxiety, lurk in forums online. Read books, fiction and non-fiction. Watch documentaries, watch cartoons, watch re-runs of Blake's 7 and classic Doctor Who.

In short, stretch yourself. And maybe you don't look all that flexible from outside, but that doesn't matter.

3. Take care of yourself. And that's really the most important rule. People often push the idea that you need to do nothing but write, enjoy nothing but the act of writing. That's a pile of excrement. If writing feels like getting blood out of a stone, you don't have to. Maybe you're only going to trigger a migraine with the stress. Maybe your fingers are dislocating from typing too much or your tennis elbow is playing up from the repetitive movements.

Safeguard yourself -- you're the only one who can write your stories.

4. Care about it. You won't always enjoy it, but you have to care. It can't really be a chore, because trust me, we as readers will know.
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Camelot)
You hear a lot about rules for writing, and what makes someone a real writer. I haven't anything better for today's post, so here's a write-up of my day's brainstorming session on those.

Always watch other people, keep a notebook about things you see and think about: Try having interest in other people when you feel completely dead inside yourself. Just try, I dare you. If you're like me, at best, you won't feel anything. At worst, you'll spiral either into a long self-pity party in which you think about how they're probably so much more successful and happy than you, or you start imagining all the reasons they must hate you. Even if they're a bunch of complete strangers.

Write every day: You think I can write when I can't get dressed?

Write even if it's shit: But... in that state, everything is shit. Even if it isn't. Why waste my time and give my brain reasons to beat me up some more?

Use your depression as inspiration!: This brings to mind Hyperbole and a Half. It's "like a person with no arms trying to punch themselves until their hands grow back". You're trying to use your total lack of any positive feeling to create a positive result. Does that really make any sense to you?

If you want to be a real writer, read a lot: I refer you to my own poem, Non-Fiction Mood. Read it, it'll do your writing good.

I'm sure there's more, but these are the ones that annoyed me. The rules annoy me because they're saying, "you have to do things like me or you're not really a writer". They're saying that because I "let" my mental illness keep me from writing, I just don't want it enough.

Well, that's true. In the depths of anxiety and depression, all I want is for the feeling to stop. When you're so frightened that you wish you didn't exist anymore, writing is just about the last thing on your mind. So hey, my criteria for being a real writer, for me, is "keep coming out the other side and starting again".

I had a story idea yesterday. I'm excited.
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
Today it's been hard to get anything done. Everywhere I turn, anxiety pops up. Like this.

The old Office paperclip popup, telling me it looks like I'm trying to live but it can't help, because I suck

But [personal profile] lynnoconnacht was chatting with me, and suggested I write about how my mental health affects my creative work. The glib answer would be to screencap an empty Word document, but it's not quite that simple -- some aspects of writing help. As long as they have rules. So when I'm depressed or anxious, I'm unlikely to write a story (and free verse like yesterday's poem is rare), but I could write a sonnet. Or a villanelle.

So, for your delectation, I wrote a fairly bad villanelle about writing a villanelle to make myself feel better, to make myself feel better. CC BY-NC-SA, as before. The title is a reference to Sylvia Plath's Mad Girl's Love Song, just because it is also a villanelle and it has mad in the title.

Sing me moonstruck

Piece by piece, I assemble my art --
my defence, my spell, my secret intent,
the dam, lest this tear me apart.

It's easier to let go than once more to start
to turn back the way my courage went.
Piece by piece, I assemble my art:

a shield, a prayer, a map or chart,
a hope, when imagination's spent.
The dam, lest this tear me apart.

When there are no more words, nothing to impart
the form and rules still dissent
so piece by piece, I assemble my art --

a villanelle, a sonnet, a dart
of light, by other poets lent.
A dam, lest this tear me apart.

Line by line, beat on, my heart,
ignore the fear that nags, torments.
Piece by piece, I assemble my art --
the dam, lest this tear me apart.
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
I haven't been paying much attention to this blog at all and I'm sorry about that, for however many of you are actually reading! Life takes over. In particular, it's amazing how completely a mental illness can take over your life. I have GAD and depression (also pretty generalised!), and sometimes it's all I can do in a week to keep staggering out of bed. Sometimes it's all I can do to make myself get into bed in the first place.

The fact is, I'm never sure how much of my identity to reveal here and how much to hold back; ideally, I don't want to hold back, but if that's the case, then why use a pen name? But I've decided, at least, that my mental illness is going to be out there. It doesn't want that -- these things hide from scrutiny, from consideration, and hate being held up to the light. And society doesn't really want that either, because we so often fall into thinking of Us vs. Them, and mentally ill people are usually among "Them". But I'm a normal person. I'm no stranger than any of you. That person you admire, who is always smiling, always perfectly put together? Maybe she cries as soon as she locks the door on the world at night. Maybe she's gone past knowing how to cry. That person who embarrasses you by talking to themselves in public might be CEO of a company in a few years time. There's no easy division.

So, I'm not willing to hide or let myself be hidden. For the next week, or as long as I can, I'm going to post every day about something related to mental illness. A book review, a personal piece, fiction, non-fiction. Links to other people's posts about the same.

All of it will be posted under Creative Commons BY-NC-SA: you're free to share or remix this work, with attribution.

The first post in this series is a poem. I'm not sure how much explanation-sauce you like with your poetry (and there's some pun on sauce and source in there, too...), so I've placed some thoughts on what I wrote under the cut at the bottom.

Non-Fiction Mood

You know what that means.
Things close in.
There's no world beyond the wardrobe,
no rainbow road to take me away,
no fairy ring in the woods.
Friends are blank,
go on their adventures alone.
Simile, metaphor, a perfect adjective,
all dry as a shrivelled heart
of someone who has never loved.
Tell me about wars,
the methylation of DNA,
the long slow excavation of a single tomb.
In the wonders of this world,
let me glimpse another.

Explanation )
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
From the world of dissertation hell, I actually bring you poetry. Which has very little to do with my dissertation, except in being vaguely Arthurian. I feel sort of tender about the moment when Gawain kneels down and bares his neck for the Green Knight, and I wondered how the Green Knight might feel about it...

The title is a quote from the medieval poem, translating to 'your kisses and your conduct otherwise'. The poem is a rondeau.

thy cosses and thy costes als

You kneel at my feet, and I see the nape of your neck white and bare,
and in the castle my wife smiles at your aunt and tosses her hair,
and I see you tremble, and I know you are but a man,
and I hold my axe, and I wonder if I can
and I lift my axe, and will I, can I dare?

Your eyes are closed and your lips move in a prayer --
lips that have touched mine as you paid your debt fair.
And I bring the axe down once, a span
from your bright head.

Your hand goes to the green girdle that you wear
and ah, Gawain, it is here that at last you err.
The jealousy swells in me bitterer than
bile. Not jealousy of you, but at her plan
that made you at last give up your care
for me. I could almost see you dead.

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rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
I still love playing with villanelles, even though I haven't been writing much of late, and even though poetry isn't exactly my forte.

I'm going to stop using flattr, at least for now; I've earned very little from it, which I know is my own fault for not posting very much or getting involved with other bloggers and writers. Still, if you appreciate my work, I'm a little strapped for cash right now and £3.40 would get me the bus fare for anywhere in my fair city...

The Immortal Days of Camelot

I saw Arthur riding, with his banner flying and his head held high,
When he was young, and I was a simple farmer's boy,
And it seemed war was glorious, and that Arthur and his men could never die.

The queen was tall and gracious and met everyone's eye,
And Camelot was tall and fair and full of joy,
And I saw Arthur riding, with his banner flying and his head held high.

The old kings rose up and challenged him, and they came riding by,
And Arthur rode to meet them and end their treacherous ploy,
And it seemed war was glorious, and that Arthur and his men could never die.

The queen stood accused of treason, and her death was nigh,
Her pyre built; her sins like that woman of Troy.
Still I saw Arthur riding, with his banner flying and his head held high.

And I saw Lancelot riding too, saw his greyed face and heard him sigh,
And he said the queen's name, and swore her enemies he'd destroy.
Yet still it seemed war was glorious, and that Arthur and his men could never die.

And I was the one who left fair England, serving Arthur as a spy,
Told him of Mordred's treason. And there, no longer a boy,
I saw Arthur riding, with his banner flying and his head held high;
Could it seem then that war was glorious, and that Arthur and his men would never die?

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rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Camelot)
I know it's been a while since I was around. I've started my Master's degree, and I had computer troubles... but today I found a little microfiction scribbled on a piece of paper I was about to throw away. So here you go.

A Moment Between )
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
I'm finally back to working on the series of short stories I intended to get published in time for my mother's birthday (which was in February). I can never seem to work during the semester: there's always too much else to think about, so that the stories can't percolate properly in the back of my head.

Anyway, I'm at work again at last, and have just finished the first of a new set of stories to fit into that anthology. Hopefully, they're going to pick up the thread of Mordred and Agravain, which was left somewhat hanging originally, while I focused on Gawain, Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere. I just did a retelling of the story of Erec and Enide. So far, I've tried to stick close to my sources: I even refused to write properly about the cauldron in my substitute for a grail story, the voyage to Caer Sidi, because what we've got says they don't achieve it. Only seven return from Caer Sidi, and one gets the distinct impression they're not triumphant.

Which is great, except I just identified Erec with Gaheris, on very little grounds, if any. Oh, I know other contemporary writers have done it -- one at least: Sarah Zettel -- but it doesn't quite sit right with the work I've been doing so far. At least in theory. But in practice, to me, it feels right. It fits. It leads on to other stories and links back to others. It makes the story of Erec and Enide urgent to the reader, because they already care about Gawain and Gareth, and Gaheris is their brother.

The thing about Arthurian literature is that it's not a tapestry executed by one person, but more like a patchwork quilt made up of whatever each author had to hand. You can't match your colours and thread to all of the others, because everyone used their own material and what's there already doesn't match. You just have to pick and choose what works for you -- and that's one of the things that appeals to me about Arthurian literature, and about doing my own retellings. It's a riotous mass of colour and life, held together by the basic framework which everyone knows.

So, I don't think I'm apologising for stealing Gereint/Erec's story and giving it to someone else.

Next up: a reworking of Yvain, working in a backstory from a Scottish ballad, which is also sort of cheating when it comes to sticking to my sources. I'll leave you to wonder about that one, at least for now.
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Camelot)
All I seem to be writing lately is microfiction... and some truly terrible poetry. You can have the microfiction; I'll keep the poetry.

The title is pretty descriptive of what the story is about, but you have to already be aware of the basic story of the Arthurian canon, and that Ragnelle is Gawain's wife. (One of them, anyway, depending on which source you're reading. She's the Loathly Lady of The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle and The Marriage of Sir Gawain. He also marries Lady Florie in a couple of other versions, including Wigalois: The Knight of Fortune's Wheel, but I've never connected with Florie like I do with Ragnelle.)

I'll add a Flattr link to this later, but my experiment with that isn't going well -- partly because I haven't done nearly enough to get traffic here, I know -- and I'm pretty sure no one would use it anyway! Added a Flattr button now!

Ragnelle Accuses Arthur )

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rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
On a long car journey today, I ended up half asleep -- it was so warm today, and I was in the passenger's seat -- and two songs in particular caught my attention and mingled in my sleepy brain. They were Dar Williams' The Great Unknown and Karine Polwart's Better Things. This story is less optimistic than either of those about technological development, although I am not myself overly pessimistic. It's non-specific about what technology it refers to, as I don't want it to be pinned to anything in particular.

The title is from The Great Unknown, and neatly references something else within the story too.

Now It's Ticking )

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rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
As people can quickly figure out from glancing at this journal, I really like retellings. Especially ones that twist things a bit, turn some of the reader's expectations on their heads. Retellings that claim or reclaim something for people they didn't originally have space for.

So a friend poked me one day and asked if I could think of any women -- goddess or mortal, it didn't matter too much -- who would be down in the Underworld at the time of the Rape of Persephone. I had a think about it -- Pandora, perhaps? I thought -- and then remembered Hecate, who I knew helped Persephone in the Underworld...

And then the friend suggested I write a story for them, a lesbian twist on it. And here is that story. Details are drawn from the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, The Aeneid (trans. W.F. Jackson Knight), and the twisty paths of memory and imagination. The idea of Hecate making the journey into the Underworld in this way is mine, her payment to Charon is mine, the tears and the laughter of Persephone are mine... yet hopefully I've made something that could almost fit in the repertoire of a Greek storyteller.

This is a commission, under my model of 'pay what you think it deserves' (and remember, payment is not always money). If you ever feel like commissioning something from me, PM me and we'll have a chat about it. Everything that I post here is free, at least for the moment, but I do need to eat, so if you come across my work and think, hey, I wish I could buy her dinner sometime... Well, there's a donate button on my profile, a Flattr button on all my story posts, and a meal and a drink at my favourite cafe costs me around £8.

For [personal profile] sweet_sparrow, with lots of love, and many thanks for the seed of an idea.

The Voice of Persephone )

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rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
Been reading poetry and prose-poetry today, and I've felt like writing for a few days, so I sat down to do something. Especially since I've had so little time to pay attention to this blog, and it needs content! It's about Lancelot and Elaine...

(Also, look! I made myself an icon out of the draft artwork.)

The Traitor's Heart )

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rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
So! It's the [community profile] three_weeks_for_dw fest here, and there's some interesting stuff going on in turns of writing about Welshness (there's a FAQ here all about Wales). It's been a while since I posted anything, and a while since I wrote anything for myself. And it's a beautiful day, and as I was sat out in the sun, I was thinking about Blodeuwedd. Now, before I go on I'd better tell you her story, briefly. It comes from the Mabinogion. Lleu Llaw Gyffes is the son of Arianhrod, but she curses him because he is the result of a failed test about her virginity. (Welsh myth has lots and lots of issues about women, yes.) One of the curses is that he cannot have a human wife. So, out of flowers, Math and Gwydion make a woman for him. Her name is Blodeuwedd.

The problem is, she turns out to be unfaithful, plots his death with her lover, and when they carry out their plan, he is turned into an eagle. Gwydion rescues him and turns him back, and he takes vengeance. He turns Blodeuwedd into an owl, and kills her lover.

This story takes place after that.

I was thinking about Blodeuwedd, and about how women are always blamed and considered inconstant, and I was also thinking about a prose-poem I wrote, in which Blodeuwedd pleads her case, citing Lleu's hardness and unkindness, and the fact that she is made from flowers and is by her very nature inconstant (since flowers typically grow, bloom and die in one season). I wanted to answer that, in a sense, or augment it, by writing something in which a man is similarly unfaithful.

It didn't quite turn out that way, but the message is still there -- with an added environmental one I didn't intend. I see it as an LGBT retelling, but all that happens is men holding hands and sleeping beside each other, which just meant friendship between men in medieval times (or so I'm told).

The Man of Oak and Stone )

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Book cover

Mar. 28th, 2011 05:51 pm
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
So someday -- eventually -- I do intend to make at least an ebook of my Arthurian stories, as a little collection. Maybe even with the bits of Arthurian poetry I've written. One of the problems is cover art, which my wonderful mother is out to solve. Below the cut are her drafts of what Camelot looks like!

Camelot )

Of course, neither of these are "good enough", according to her, anyway, because it has to be "worthy" of the content. Hmmm.

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rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
The advice is always to leave your NaNoWriMo manuscript a while and come to it with a fresh eye, possibly in January. Well, it's been longer than that for me, but I finally seem ready to look at it -- it's only the second time I've felt compelled to come back to a story, really, and try to edit it, so that's probably a very good sign. The first time was in my first year of participating, and it came to nothing, but I have hopes this time.

I'm not sure how much of the actual writing I'll keep, but it definitely helped me get to know my characters. Right now, oddly enough, I have a lot of affection for my version of Bedwyr. I mean, I like him as a man. He's extremely close to Cai, and he balances Cai in many ways, and is good for Cai. (Who is rather more the Welsh version than the French: hot-tempered, but not deliberately malicious.) He 'told me' early in the process that he was one-handed, and that turned out to be somewhat plot-relevant, so I can't really tell you about it.

Vivienne is also involving herself much more than I expected. Which makes sense, as she'll become more prominent in the later 'books', as I have it planned. As long as she stops flirting with Gawain. (Characters. What can you do?)

At the moment, there's basically six 'books'. I have no idea how long they're going to be, though. I felt like I was stretching the first book, when I was writing it for NaNoWriMo, even at 50,000 words, which is considered short. I think I'll just see how it naturally falls, plus I'll expect words to be added during editing -- my style tends toward the sparse, without work. Since I'm planning to make them into ebooks myself, not try to sell the stories to a publisher, I think it'll be much less of an issue than it might seem, as long as the pricing is fair. And it will be, since I'm still not sure I'll charge anything at all.

Anyway, I'm very happy to be back to work again, and to have my 980 words of planning and structure as well as my messy, potentially hopeless first draft. It's a beginning.

I really need a title, though.

Help Japan

Mar. 12th, 2011 04:42 pm
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
Lightning quick post -- I've put an offer up for original fiction on [community profile] help_japan, here. Will do fairytale retellings, Arthurian legends, LGBT-ified retellings...

A couple more examples of my writing for you, as promised in that comment.

Click to read 'A Warning Note', a rondeau )

Click to read three microfictions based on the story of the fall of Troy, with commentary )

Please consider bidding for my work in the auction: I will work very hard to ensure that anything you receive once you have donated is the very best work I can do.

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Mea culpa

Feb. 19th, 2011 11:42 am
rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
It's been a long time since I actually wrote a blog post, for which I apologise. Not good form! I have, of course, been very busy. Unfortunately, it hasn't really involved much writing. I am writing at the moment, but I don't think it's likely to see the light of day beyond the class I'm writing it for -- it's highly autobiographical, and while it's taking a good ol' swing away from reality (names and genders changed, odd new subplots cropping up that never existed in my real day to day life), it's not something I really want to put out there in the world even so. The made-up aspects just make me more worried about what people might assume about my life!

I'd like to remind you all of the diversified fairytale anthology idea. I set a deadline for it, but got no acknowledgements, or submissions, or anything so far. I'll probably change the submission date and talk more about it later this week, but I thought I'd remind anyone hanging around here that it is going ahead and you might want to work on something to submit!

I also talked in that post about work on my anthology of Arthurian stories. I wrote a few more over Christmas, but I still need to do some work to make sure there are enough stories to make it worthwhile. I do have someone -- my mother in fact -- working on a front cover for it, which is exciting. In my head, Camelot looks like a larger version of Castell Coch, but we'll see what my dear mama comes up with. I'll update you on that as soon as she sends me progress pictures.

I've also been reading some amazing books, recently -- I completely recommend Jo Walton's Among Others, and Justine Larbalestier's Liar.


rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
Rhian Crockett

August 2013



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