Jul. 12th, 2017

via http://ift.tt/2tdtI7a:
“My therapist asked me what book I actually want to write, if not this one. I have a few ideas but mostly I just want to write again. I want to write and not for hits or retweets or viral headlines. I want to write because when I’m really in the zone my throat gets hot and I am on autopilot, free from doubt or distraction. When I am writing and the writing is good, I feel like a Ketchup bottle someone has whacked at exactly the right angle. When I’m sitting at a bar by myself with my laptop and a beer and the words flow and the plot collects, that is when I love myself. That is when I feel absolutely sure of who I am and what I want and why I am here. I forgot that. I missed that.
I want to write. I desperately, desperately want to write.”
- Ella Dawson
via http://ift.tt/2u8xbZi:
I wish I were in the habit of taking outfit photos because this week has been entertaining. When I’m at the farm, see, I dress almost exclusively in surgically-altered-t-shirts-that-fit-weirdly, and cutoff sweatpants, with an assortment of ill-fitting sports bras to round out the look, and a healthy coating of dirt because if you’re dumb enough to shower you’ve just murphy’s-law’d your way to a really gross thing happening to you one way or another (think something animal-feces-related or maybe a shower of spiderweb-tangled debris into your hair) so it’s best if you just keep showering to a minimum). 

So being here and having the plausible deniability of an office job combined with it being a back-office job so nobody cares what I wear means that I’ve basically spent this week playing ridiculous dress-up. Yesterday I wore what I’m pretty sure was a wildly unflattering microfiber bodycon dress with screenprinted floral-patterned tights. Today I’m cosplaying an elementary school teacher that everyone’s pretty sure is a witch. What did I wear Monday? I forget. Oh, a tank dress I’d cut off and sewn a frilly lace hem onto at mid-thigh, over a cropped tank top, with bright blue tights. 

I don’t do “graceful” middle age, it turns out. 

I wish I’d remembered to put jewelry on, and it would be awesome if I’d remembered to do makeup, because this is a perfect outfit to wear black lipstick with. Nobody sees me so nobody cares, remember, it’s just that it amuses me. And on the farm, you just don’t want to put anything on you that you care about, because it’s going to get snagged, bleached, or otherwise wrecked. (Carrying dirty cinderblocks hugged against your belly because you can’t support the weight any other way is a great way to completely destroy a t-shirt, for example.) So all my failed clothing-modification experiments, if they’re not so frilly as to snag things, go to the farm… 
via http://ift.tt/2uiqaWq:
Next up in my Notable Quotables from Harbors of the Sun (and again, if this is too much, since I know like nobody’s in this fandom, block the tag “botr” for books of the raksura): 

Face-biting. I did not notice this in any previous books, but in this book, our heroes developed a habit of biting people’s faces, and in one case, biting a face clean off. What this says about Raksura jaws, I am sort of hesitant to fully imagine. I mean… I knew they unfolded, but I didn’t know know it.

Nothing for a cranky mood like some cathartic face-biting. First up, location 1777: 

Moon is my darling angsty sweet princess baby who bites his enemies’ faces off and I am enchanted. 

And then, in case you were worried she wouldn’t, his mother repeats the move, at location 5023, she only fails to completely replicate this because her target is a much larger creature. 

I tell you what if I had jaws that extended and this kind of outlet for my rage I’d probably be a much more serene person. Well, intermittently. 



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