Went back to clarify. Me and my itchy trigger finger.
River: You're not right, Early. You're not righteous. You've got issues. Early: No. Oh, yes, I could have that. You might have me figured out, then. Good job. I'm not 100%.
'Objects In Space'
The Great Write Way
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Ms. Havisham - Apr 02, 2003 9:22:30 pm PST #1140 of 10001
And we will call it... "This Land."
Ms. Havisham - Apr 02, 2003 9:24:07 pm PST #1141 of 10001
And we will call it... "This Land."
Come to think of it, it must be pretty frustrating trying to teach writing, too.
Connie Neil - Apr 02, 2003 10:07:04 pm PST #1142 of 10001
brillig
Barbara Hambly can't write for them! She has to write another Antryg story!
sumi - Apr 03, 2003 8:38:54 am PST #1143 of 10001
Art Crawl!!!
It doesn't say that she is writing for them, does it?
I thought they gave her as an example of who they would like to publish.
Theodosia - Apr 03, 2003 8:40:35 am PST #1144 of 10001
'we all walk this earth feeling we are frauds. The trick is to be grateful and hope the caper doesn't end any time soon"
Nope, read back, she's in the first four authors listed whom they say they "have under contract."
sumi - Apr 03, 2003 8:48:00 am PST #1145 of 10001
Art Crawl!!!
Ah -- skimming as usual.
Steph L. - Apr 13, 2003 10:52:57 pm PDT #1146 of 10001
Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe
Okay, we haven't had anything here in a while, so I'll post two acrostic poems I wrote, inspired by R. Lizard. Bear in mind they're the first acrostics I've ever attempted.
The first one was inspired by (seriously) this dress.
****
Cherry Girl
Cock the hip and toss the
Hair as I stride across the room;
Evoking retro, fever, bad girl.
Rarely does this me get
Revealed; when she does, you say oh
Yes.
*******
This one doesn't have a title yet, although I'm thinking about "After".
Beyond the words, past the syllables’ edges (listen; this
Is for you, you said), murmurs blossom deep inside. Lighting
This fire, warming this ice-white flesh, making it
Tingle as it slowly comes to life: whispers, urgent and low,
Evoke pianissimo, largo, allegro, forte!
Rest.
Since these are memories (ghosts) of something
Which never happened, there is no
Explanation for notes still hanging in the air. No
Excuse makes sense of the repeated sharp
Twinge: phantom limb pain that lingers.
deborah grabien - Apr 13, 2003 10:55:58 pm PDT #1147 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Steph, those are fabulous, and I have a particular ganglia-moving reaction to "SWEET". My father lost a leg to gangrene (diabetes, wrong medicine given) and that last line twisted a bit. Powerful, and wow. Well done.
Steph L. - Apr 13, 2003 10:59:03 pm PDT #1148 of 10001
Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe
Thanks, Deb! Your opinion means a lot to me. My small group liked them, too. I've been very unsure about them, because it's the first time I've tried this form; for that matter, it's the first time I've tried -- and *finished* -- any structured poem form (i.e., sestina, villanelle, pantoum).
deborah grabien - Apr 13, 2003 11:02:29 pm PDT #1149 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Honey, they breathe. And I can pay no higher compliment to poetry; you can feel the tickle against the nape of the neck, sometimes it's light, sometimes it's hurricane (Michael Drayton is like that for me, "....shake hands forever...") but damn, they breathe.