claireoujisama

Be more succinct. I'm rolling around in laughter right now because my idea of a "short" story is generally nothing less than ten thousand words, but a couple days back I had an email telling me that I'd got second place in a Twitter fic competition. As in, the story I wrote was less than 140 characters long. Bad news, guys -- the Mayans got the date wrong. The world will be ending in five, four, three, two...

There are two dates I hate in the year -- the 13th and 14th of February. The first is because it's my birthday, and the second is because it's Valentine's Day. The reason being that the first date reminds me always of what a terrible and worthless person I am, and then the second just reinforces the idea. So, I've spent the last two days depressed as hell. The only happy thing was a horse trek I took around Paradise; my horse, Harry, was very well behaved which was lovely because I'm actually rather scared of horses. (Which doesn't explain why I voluntarily chose to go and ride one, but go figure.) Paradise is absolutely gorgeous, by the by;

Seeing as my last journal entry was in *October* I keep meaning to say something about what's up in my life, though it's generally no big deal. Thing is, today I've been doing THE HAPPY DANCE because after years and years of messing about with it, I have finally put an end to the first draft of My Magnificent Octopus. ...which isn't what it's called, but I refuse to call it my "magnum opus" because Baldrick's term is far more telling when it comes to the sprawling creeping horror of that THING I named "The Juniper Bones." It's completely unpublishable, you see. Too much violence, too much sex, too much OH MY GOD WHAT EVEN IS THAT THING mindf*