Day 18

100 Words for 100 Days June 13 - Sept 20

Progress Bar from Writertopia

I really slacked off bad, but now with having to catch up on homework and getting back into the groove. Unfortunately, I don't have to time to cut paste the 623 words I wrote. I will share more next time.

Dealing with names

This morning I've been thinking about names. I developed a problem with character names. "Zy" and that character came first, but not her Earth name. Later, I developed a character for a Call of Cuthulu game by asking myself how Zy would have turned out if she hadn't gone to outer space. So that was the origin of Cynthia Towers.

So when I returned to Zy, I thought playing on "Cynthia Towers" was a good idea. Tried spelling "Cynthia" funny; that didn't work. "Towers" became "Tauers" and no one could figure out how to pronounce that either. So time for something new, but my naming books weren't being helpful.

I found two websites: Behind the Name: the etymology and history of first names and Behind the Name: the etymology and history of surnames. And they let you search on meanings. So I searched on moon and moon goddess for the first name and "protection, fortress, castle" for the last name.

First Name Choices

• Selina/Selene - reminds me of Catwoman


• Chandra - I like but trying to get away from C's


• Pandia - sounds more like a follower of Pan


• Arianrhod - Welsh and I like it but I can't pronounce it


• Diana - already used for a character


• Rhiannon - already used for a character


• Bridget - actually Celtic goddess of fire and poetry, which sounded pretty good for the character I've called "responsible implusiveness

Last Name Choices

• Castle/Castell


• Wyman


• Rattray


• Dunbar


• Morris


• Tittensor


• Yates

I settled on Bridget Wyman.

Day 4

100 Words for 100 Days June 13 - Sept 20

Progress Bar from Writertopia

296 words is what I got done today. Yeah!

Jannuet sat at the wall end of the car. Zy could see her when she craned her neck to the left, but it was too uncomfortable to keep it like that. It would match the cricks in my back, she thought.

Music from a still open club on this floor throbbed in the distance, but it didn’t cover up the footsteps against the synthwood floor. Only one person entering though. A stoll scrapped on the floor and Jannuet backed into the room where Zy could see her without straining. Jannuet brushed back her black and purple hair in an attempt not to look nervous. “Where’s Sithna?”

A male chuckled and stepped into Zy’s view, humanoid dressed in a black, loose jumpsuit, dark hair, and turned where she couldn’t see his face. He stepped closer to Jannuet. “I couldn’t let Sithna come. Not when you’ve been talking.”

“Talking? I haven’t been talking. What do I know?” She took a step back, aiming for the door backstage.

He circled around her, blocking off that escape route and still keeping his back toward Zy. Zy gritted her teeth. “Jannuet,” he said conversationally, “I hate liars. Someone’s chasing me and she found this place and she found you.” He circled around Jannuet again. “And I suspect that my pursurer is not content to clean up my messes and wants to stop my necessary work. And you helped her.”

“I didn’t help anybody!”

He jerked something up from his hip. “Don’t lie to me!”

Zy and Mealte exploded out of the booth, but not before the report of laser fire. Zy scrambled to the main doors and hit the security button. The laser grid lit up in the door sill.

Day 3

100 Words for 100 Days June 13 - Sept 20

Progress Bar from Writertopia

Okay, I am not going to beat myself up about missing a day. That's not what this exercise is for. Now is the time to get caught up and get my homework and writing group stuff done at the same time.

Title: Tree before a storm

What colors are in a tree?
Green, brown, and in bloom? Many possibilities
But mostly people think of green
Have you looked closely at the green?
Have you seen the different shades of that verde when the sunshine illuminates the leaves posed against a mountain of black clouds in the sky?
The new glows with aliveness, welcoming the coming storm.

That's 65 words. Time for some more writing.

Homework Reading Response One:

Elephants Are Not Afraid Of Mice by Arthur Mortensen

An elephant regarded a mouse
Who'd found a seat upon his trunk.
"My trunk is not a mouse's house,"
The paciderm exclaimed, and -- thunk!
He bashed the mouse -- red guts on bark;
A passing dog enjoyed a chew.
A pair of black flies cried -- Hark! Hark!
There is a lovely feast in view.

Had Darwin come upon this scene
He might have learned a handy lesson,
That elephants are rarely mean
But can't abide a second guess on
The subject of elephants and mice:
The mouse that roars won't roar twice.

http://www.expansivepoetryonline.com/journal/indexjournal.html

This poem has haunted me for a while now. I hope it's not due to the violence done against the mouse. First off, it rhymes with rhythm. The next poem I try to write must have rhymes in it, because I'm feeling that I am incapable of writing that way. I know that poetry doesn't have to, but it shows such a control of form.

The vivid murder of the mouse and the title remind me of all the cartoon images seen as a child of the mouse taunting the elephant. Dumbo is a good example. This poem neatly turns that over and squashes it flat. And the last line just makes me smile. Maybe it is the violence.

Note to self: go find all that peotry terminology that refuses to stick in my head for the next response.

That gives me 139 words. So now everything else I write goes in the monthly/weekly totals.

Potential type of fae

To this day, all three shake when describing it to me. According to them, it was a humanoid of some sort. Its legs were very long as well as its feet and it was talking huge strides as it made its way down the street. Its back was bent back and its neck was very long and was bent forward. They said no human could be bent like this thing was. Its eyes were black, but it did have the whites as well. Its skin was transparent green, and it was wearing nothing but white pants and black shoes. Karl said that it looked like a dead Ziggy Stardust because the hair was bright red.

As soon as they saw it, Reggie let out a tiny gasp and then the thing instinctively looked at them and squinted. They said that it was so dark they couldn't imagine that a human could hear a tiny gasp and then immediately locate the sound. This thing did, however. It never stopped moving, and once it was past the driveway and viewpoint of the men, the clomping noise abruptly stopped. Reggie feared that perhaps it had scaled the apartment building and was now on the roof.

http://paranormal.about.com/library/blstory_june07_18.htm

This description sparked my interest for some reason.

Day 1

100 Words for 100 Days June 13 - Sept 20

Progress Bar from Writertopia

Actually I got 1456 words in the Educators' Guide, but because it's a paying gig, I can't share it online. Tomorrow I'll write something I can put up.

The More Things Change or Hurry Up and Wait

Title: The More Things Change or Hurry Up and Wait

Hear it creak and groan?
Are you listening hard enough?
Multitasking the wait away
While the hourglass turns and turns
Only makes the supervisor angry.

Note: Trying to tell the story of the new computer system at work. It involves a lot of hurry up and wait.

I don't like you, Poetry

Title: I don’t like you, Poetry

I don’t like you, Poetry
You’re fine for reading alone
enjoying the images and the word play,
but together in a class?
You remind me of all the jabs from professors:
“Why is this significant?
What does it mean?
What is the Author saying?”
“Maybe exactly what is written is what was meant.”
My answer was never right; I was never right
Haunted by visions of men tearing out insubstantial hair while wondering what kind of fool scholars be we
No, Poetry, I can’t like you
Not as long as you make me be stupid

The old dead only immortal through their thoughts and words would be one thing
They can’t laugh when I’m wrong
Not like my contemporaries who think me
A dried up, prudish, spinster
Poetry, you didn’t defend me that day as I gushed about the imagery.
Is it my fault that spelunking is just like lesbian sex?
Militant feminist lesbian—I’d like to make sure she got left in a non-metaphorical cave somewhere!
Militant feminist lesbian—aren’t I your sister too?
But she and Poetry shut me up for years after laughing at my naïveté.
No, Poetry, I can’t like you
Not as long as you mock me.

Note: I don’t know if that is a good stopping point or if I should continue onto a third verse redeeming Poetry? After all, my hang-ups aren’t Poetry’s fault. I think I will stop it there. Come back in a sequel to redeem Poetry.

So this is my poem explaining my great avoidance of poetry. I wanted it to turn out to be Expansive, but it went confessional instead. Two separate semesters and two separate classes, but both events convinced me I was too stupid to understand poetry, poets were to make me look stupid, and I should stick with prose where I am in the club. I managed to stay away from poetry for years. My one exception was for a story and I only managed that because I told myself I would respond with “It sounds better in the original Greek” to anyone who laughed. It’s been seven years since that one.