“Because right now we’re here in Boston” – How I fell in love with The Dresden Dolls

Just stumbled across this and smiled. The Dresden Dolls have got to be one of my favourite bands of all time and it was lovely to see someone write about them just after discovering them.

Juvenilia.

“I told you,” my ex-boyfriend would eventually say to me, months after we broke up and I had already listened to the album, No, Virginia three times over, and was quoting their song lyrics in Facebook posts; clearly obsessed.

“They are so ridiculously good.”

The Dresden Dolls

The Dresden Dolls were a band I subconsciously refused to listen to for a while. I’m not exactly sure why that was.

All I knew of the band was that the singer, Amanda Palmer, wore a devious smirk on her face in pictures online and adorned questionable tattooed eyebrows. I knew that in April of last year, she wrote a controversial poem on her blog, shortly after the Boston bombings titled A Poem for Dzhokhar, that many dubbed self-serving and narcissistic. I knew that a lot of people didn’t like her. On the contrary, I also knew that she had a cult-like following. And for…

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Burning the 5am oil.

I’m not used to insomnia.

This is unusual for writers, from what I’ve heard. Creative sorts and their minds whirring and chugging away, refusing to switch off. If anything I was the opposite: a hypersomniac. Life gets tiring pretty easily, and it’s so easy to sleep too much. When I was in the 6th Form, my history teacher was convinced I was either suffering from either anaemia or narcolepsy. Consequently, irregular sleep patterns are the norm for me. Recently, though, I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and staying asleep.

Tonight, though, it’s through no fault of my own. It’s hard to sleep when drunken housemates arrive with an entourage at 4am.

I guess the silver lining to this is that I’m writing a blog entry. Even if it’s not about anything particularly interesting. Well, it could be. Let’s see.

Something that seems to have coincided with this change in my circadian rhythms is that I dream a lot more. Or at least, vividly enough to remember them afterwards. It’s reminded me that I wanted to write a story involving dreams at one point. In particular, the idea of connecting with something intrinsically human when you dream. An archetypal subconscious, something that is shared between people unknowingly. That every night you bare your soul to humanity only to forget it when you

 

…Sorry, I lost my train of thought when I heard something break downstairs. Back now.

Hopefully I’ll think to write here more often, and my bits and pieces will get more interesting. We’ll see.

Oh fudgesticks. NaNoWriMo is here!

So I decided to write again. Hello blog!

After blowing some dust off of the keyboard and getting comfortable, I remembered how I used to enjoy keeping a blog. So here I am. Tidbits of what I’m writing over the month should appear here, *fingers crossed*

That’s it for now, as it’s nearly midnight and I need to get ready!

 

Let the madness begin.

33 Unusual Tips To Being A Better Writer

Thought Catalog

Back in college, my friend Sanket and I would hang out in bars and try to talk to women but I was horrible at it. Nobody would talk to me for more than thirty seconds, and every woman would laugh at all his jokes for what seemed like hours. Even decades later I think they are still laughing at his jokes. One time he turned to me and said, “The girls are getting bored when you talk. Your stories go on too long. From now on, you need to leave out every other sentence when you tell a story.” We were both undergrads in Computer Science. I haven’t seen him since, but that’s the most important writing (and communicating) advice I ever got.

33 other tips for being a better writer

Write whatever you want. Then take out the first paragraph and last paragraph. Here’s the funny thing about this rule…

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Finding time, finding space.

Writing is no longer the priority it once was for me. This is sad, but not the end of the line. I haven’t given up on it, as such. I just now find it much more difficult to fit in around an ever-increasing number of monsters eating up my time and energy.

I’m here, though. Despite the difficulties, despite that writing doesn’t come to me with the same ease and fluency as a couple of years ago, I still come back. In the last week I was introduced to the Ghazal form of poetry. Looking into it I realise there’s a lot more culture and history behind them than could be shown to us during one short workshop. So I guess the poem I’ve begun to craft isn’t a true Ghazal. But it IS a poem, and it is mine; that is enough for me.

I plan to do some more work on it and have 12 glorious lines of verse posted here within the week. I also plan to have read up on Quantum Mechanics and Physical Fields by then, but I think I know what I will end up doing, given the choice!

 

It’s good to be back.

Ten Ways Writing is Like Sex

The Brown Road Chronicles

10. Writing definitely became more prolific and interesting when electronic tools became mainstream.

9. Although sometimes it’s easier just to go it alone, in the long run you’re better off having some other people involved.

8. Sometimes writing is slow and deliberate, sometimes it’s fast and frenzied, but you’re usually pretty satisfied with the end result. And if you’re not… you can always try again tomorrow.

7. We live in a busy world. You often just need to schedule a specific time to get your writing done, like Sunday nights after the kids go to bed.

6. A little prompting can help lubricate your thought process.

5. Most of us are ready to write at a moment’s notice, but sometimes it’s easier just to use the excuse “I have a headache.”

4. Protection (as in copyright) should always be at the forefront of one’s thoughts.

3. Some days writing is…

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The House That Jack Built.

It’s my first time here for a while, I know. Writing hasn’t been coming as naturally to me of late. When I actually do it, it feels great; but being able to actually sit and write something worthwhile feels like a Herculean effort for the most part. My original intention on sitting down tonight was to begin a flash fiction entry for this year’s Inktears competition (something I’ve been intending to start for about two months). However, the blank screen stared at me until I changed tack, and started to write this post instead.

The problem with having no limits is that it can leave you feeling rather lost. You are in the situation of having to stake out your own frontiers, guarding your little corner of civilisation from the terrors of the unknown. Where do you start?

I’ve been having to do this in a much more general way, too, I now realise. Since about Easter I’ve been at home, trying to work out what to do with my life. Not in a bad way, as such, but I have been finding it rather difficult to live in the middle of a void. I’ve very suddenly had to deal with sorting out my own life, without much in the way of outside influences (i.e. the day-to-day responsibilities of a University timetable).

It’s been difficult.

So I guess this is me, trying to create something from nothing. Making my own way of doing things, my personal house of cards. I’m getting the hang of it, maybe. But we’ll see. We’ll see.

Too true.

“The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heav’n of hell, a hell of heav’n”

– Milton, Paradise Lost

Accidental hiatus.

Sorry guys, I have been ill, followed by a manic catch-up period of work for my course. I should have really posted up something to say I was ill, but it’s a  bit late for that now.

It’s Easter now, so I will have some posts up, but there will be a gap of about a week when I go to the British Juggling Convention!

If all goes to plan there will be another piece up in the next day or so.

The Post Office:

Disclaimer:

'Quintconsequential' is a word of my own invention, despite the definition in the style of the Oxford English Dictionary featured on the site. By all means, use it, whisper it, shout it from the rooftops. But please, remember that you heard it here first!