Julie's Web Journal

That's what I told Chris when I walked in on him almost an hour ago. He'd turned the light in the living room off, but he was sitting at the computer, chatting away.

And here I am, trying deseprately to fall asleep. I think I'm getting close, so if you would please pardon the spelling and sentence structure I would be most grateful.

Well, the green bulb shot seems to have gone over quite well. The whole concept still needs a little work. I'm not happy with the angle or the burn-in I see in a couple of spots. I shall continue to tweak. The Olympus Studio software has come in quite handy. I've been using a trial for a few weeks, and I see a purchase in my future.

I cracked open Stephen Fry's Making History just before 7:00 and polished it off just before 1:00. Paul and I were talking about that book the other night and I was fuzzy on some of the points, which meant that I could read it again without hopefully being spoiled halfway through. Oh, I remembered the very end of the book, but I couldn't remember all of how the narrative got there. I'm not sure if "spoiled" is a term I could use with a Stephen Fry book, unless it's thusly: "I feel spoiled when I luxuriate in his rich use of language." So there.

It is late, isn't it?

So, inquiring minds ask, are you writing these days, or just reading and shooting pictures? Surely you must do something constructive rather than toss and turn in bed.

I'll tell you, but only if you don't call me Shirley.

I'm working on something again. It may never see the light of day, but I ascribe to the philosophy that it's better to write something bad than write nothing at all. I do not labor under the belief that I weave solid gold prose with my fingertips, instantly worthy of publication by any major press.

Note to my editor: If you nod your head any harder, it may fall off.

So yeah, I write a lot of fiction-type stuff that never sees the light beyond the phosphors of my monitor. You are better off not having read said drivel. Yet, good comes out of the crap (she says, trying to be all philosophical when she should just shut the heck up). It's never work in vain, no matter how much I wail and gnash teeth and rent garments asunder over the effluence that sometimes springs from fingertip to pixel.  Except when I'm on deadline. Then every word I produce is utter garbage.

Note to my editor: You can stop nodding your head now. Really.

I keep most of my work that goes nowhere because it may very well get used some day. If not the entire work, then perhaps a concept or a bit of dialogue or descriptive prose. I've got a story I've been banging away on for a couple of years. I don't know if I'll ever let it off the hard drive, but I see it as a challenge to finish for some reason. I'll work on it sometimes when I'm unable to write anything else. As counterproductive as that seems, it does me good to dig in and fix a bit of sentence structure here or a typo there. Sometimes I'll have an "aha!" moment that allows me to carry the story forward a few more paragraphs. Call it brain exercise.

So, you say: Now you blather on. I can tell you need sleep. But what happens when you get to bed and can't sleep? (Yes, I know you asked that before)

I turn story ideas over. This afternoon I tried to take a nap. I was unable to sleep, but I did move a story plot forward and felt better for it.

Oh, one good thing about being up at this time of night: I get to read the new Bleat hot off the Wordpress. Or something like that.

Okay, fine. I'll add a couple of tags and hit the sack.

Tags: Life, Writing