March 2023 was like the rest of 2023 so far - it effing sucked.
This year is really going down as one of my least favourites atm, and I've got some bad years on record, y'know? *sighs*
Anyhow, a good neighbour - a neighbour who'd been my neighbour since I was a toddler - passed away suddenly.
They were always there, y'know? They came to my brother's wedding and everything.
So that, on top of everything else I've been dealing with this year, was pretty damned horrible.
You know when you're trying to write something specific, but things just won't quite click?
Like, the thing you're trying to say refuses to come together - you might get close, but you won't get there. You can't quite manage to get the concept across, to communicate what it is you're trying to communicate.
Like... you can feel the thing, lurking in a corner of your brain, trying to free itself. But it just can't quite make that leap.
...That's one of the most irritating feelings you can have when writing.
Or at least, that's what it feels like to me.
There's a special kind of frustration - as a writer - when the words WON'T GO WHERE THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO!
'“We need to go to the park. There’s a wizard there: it’s his fault.” It is hard to know if Ben intends this to be helpful.'
I'm pretty sure there's time loop fanfiction for every fandom.
And ironically, despite being not that into time loops (aside from Happy Death Day, of course,) I keep reading time loop fics (over and over and... 😅)
(If you want to check out some SamBucky in a time loop, check this post out here. You're welcome.)
The Black Phone is one of my favourite short stories of all time, from one of my favourite authors of all time, Joe Hill.
I've read the collection 20th Century Ghosts (where The Black Phone appears,) more times than it's truly a good thing to admit to - it's my comfort reading, don't judge me.
So I love this story. It's a masterpiece.
Not perfect, no - it mentions how fat the villain is at least six times too many, for a start - but a masterpiece, all the same.
And I'm fully prepared to admit that I'm entirely biased when it comes to this story. So be aware of that. 😅
'Edward froze, glancing to the corner Stede had gestured to and seeing nothing there. Stede clearly saw something though, because he kept glancing over there...'
I finally got around to watching Our Flag Means Death (OFMD) - it will come as zero surprise to most people that I utterly freaking ADORE it!
And what I do with things I adore, once I run out of canon material, is read fanfiction - let's be honest, I am nothing if not predictable. 😅
(Fandom notes:
Canon is the 'official' stuff in the book/film/TV series/whatever.)
It's Thursday, I can't work out the clocks changing, let's get some comics-y superhero-y goodness!
This poem was originally published by me in the Medium publication The Brain Is A Noodle, for the writing prompt 'writing as a breathing organism'
Created
‘There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.’ — Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
