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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/2jUVOA8:
I’m back at my own house, after a lovely weekend staying on the farm and visiting with the family. I managed to keep to my soft non-resolutions from New Year’s, though I kept not having a chance to write about it in the bullet journal, which I am not really using in the intended fashion– I have just been bullet-pointing things about my life in there, but I’ve also been keeping tallies of the habits I’ve wanted to solidify.
I have sewn something every day this year, though most days it’s only a couple of stitches. I went on a hike and snagged my brand new parka on a rose thorn, and so Sunday’s sewing project was repairing that, and i had to borrow thread because I had every kind with me except black. (Amazing.) Yesterday’s sewing project was sewing the button back onto a brand new flannel shirt I got on Sunday, unbuttoned to try on, and one of the buttons came off in my hand. But I still have sewed a little bit every day, so that’s something. Mom gave me a sewing kit from the Shaker Heritage Society, where my grandmother volunteered for decades– a little pincushion, a piece of beeswax on a thread, a tiny emery cushion for needles, and a needle-book– and they were handmade by my grandmother’s best friend, who is now about 95 and still faithfully making things for their gift shop. I will treasure them forever. I’ve accidentally started filling my pencil case (which I carry so I can write in the journal) with sewing things…
I’ve also written every day, even if it was only a few words while I was so tired I could hardly see. The only thing that got worked on, of my many WIPs, was the Bodhi/Cassian thing, which has solidified in my mind at least, and it’s not fluffy like Found Cat at all, but I did just last night figure out a great variant on the Canadian Shack trope that I can use. And having it be entirely from Bodhi’s POV means that Cassian’s secret-agent-ness gets to be delightfully creepy and slow to reveal. I hope. We’ll see, it’s still pretty nebulous.
snippet!
Bodhi had really thought he was over the seeing-every-fur-lined-hood-as-belonging-to-Sled-Dog-Guy phase but he was putting gas in his car on his way home from work and the guy at the next pump had a fur-lined hood in his parka and also a narrow build and characteristic slouch, and when he turned his head his nose had just the slightest hook to it. Before he could think better of it, Bodhi said, “Jeron?”
The man didn’t react for an instant, but then turned his head toward Bodhi, and it was him, brow furrowed for a moment before he caught sight of Bodhi’s stupid hat and lit up. It had gotten cold again; they were both back in their cold weather gear.
“Bodhi,” he said, and pronounced it wrong, and Bodhi laughed. He’d never told the man his name, and the man had never asked, but Bodhi knew his ID badge was always somewhere around, either around his neck or hanging in the van. Clearly, he’d never asked because he’d seen the badge.
“It’s pronounced Bodhi, actually,” Bodhi said, “but I know it doesn’t look like it.”
Jeron drew himself up, looking offended. “I have,” he said, with indignant precision, “an accent.”
“Fair,” Bodhi said, “but you can say Bodhi.”
“I can say Bodhi,” Jeron said, deflating. “I forgot I’d only read it. That must have seemed creepy of me.”
Exhibit A in Cassian’s slow creepy reveal of secrets: why is he going by his middle name? A ha.
This brought back for me, incidentally, some of my earliest fanfic experience, when I was making a living doing search engine optimization in 2003ish and getting annoyed with writers who’d give their characters nicknames or pet names, and I was like, your shit won’t show up when people Google for fic about this how could you be so short-sighted, and it was the fucking Dark Ages and tags hadn’t been invented yet so I was like, obsessed with how many times the characters’ names appeared in any given paragraph, and I had until this moment completely forgotten that this had ever occurred or been something I had even paid attention to.
I’m back at my own house, after a lovely weekend staying on the farm and visiting with the family. I managed to keep to my soft non-resolutions from New Year’s, though I kept not having a chance to write about it in the bullet journal, which I am not really using in the intended fashion– I have just been bullet-pointing things about my life in there, but I’ve also been keeping tallies of the habits I’ve wanted to solidify.
I have sewn something every day this year, though most days it’s only a couple of stitches. I went on a hike and snagged my brand new parka on a rose thorn, and so Sunday’s sewing project was repairing that, and i had to borrow thread because I had every kind with me except black. (Amazing.) Yesterday’s sewing project was sewing the button back onto a brand new flannel shirt I got on Sunday, unbuttoned to try on, and one of the buttons came off in my hand. But I still have sewed a little bit every day, so that’s something. Mom gave me a sewing kit from the Shaker Heritage Society, where my grandmother volunteered for decades– a little pincushion, a piece of beeswax on a thread, a tiny emery cushion for needles, and a needle-book– and they were handmade by my grandmother’s best friend, who is now about 95 and still faithfully making things for their gift shop. I will treasure them forever. I’ve accidentally started filling my pencil case (which I carry so I can write in the journal) with sewing things…
I’ve also written every day, even if it was only a few words while I was so tired I could hardly see. The only thing that got worked on, of my many WIPs, was the Bodhi/Cassian thing, which has solidified in my mind at least, and it’s not fluffy like Found Cat at all, but I did just last night figure out a great variant on the Canadian Shack trope that I can use. And having it be entirely from Bodhi’s POV means that Cassian’s secret-agent-ness gets to be delightfully creepy and slow to reveal. I hope. We’ll see, it’s still pretty nebulous.
snippet!
Bodhi had really thought he was over the seeing-every-fur-lined-hood-as-belonging-to-Sled-Dog-Guy phase but he was putting gas in his car on his way home from work and the guy at the next pump had a fur-lined hood in his parka and also a narrow build and characteristic slouch, and when he turned his head his nose had just the slightest hook to it. Before he could think better of it, Bodhi said, “Jeron?”
The man didn’t react for an instant, but then turned his head toward Bodhi, and it was him, brow furrowed for a moment before he caught sight of Bodhi’s stupid hat and lit up. It had gotten cold again; they were both back in their cold weather gear.
“Bodhi,” he said, and pronounced it wrong, and Bodhi laughed. He’d never told the man his name, and the man had never asked, but Bodhi knew his ID badge was always somewhere around, either around his neck or hanging in the van. Clearly, he’d never asked because he’d seen the badge.
“It’s pronounced Bodhi, actually,” Bodhi said, “but I know it doesn’t look like it.”
Jeron drew himself up, looking offended. “I have,” he said, with indignant precision, “an accent.”
“Fair,” Bodhi said, “but you can say Bodhi.”
“I can say Bodhi,” Jeron said, deflating. “I forgot I’d only read it. That must have seemed creepy of me.”
Exhibit A in Cassian’s slow creepy reveal of secrets: why is he going by his middle name? A ha.
This brought back for me, incidentally, some of my earliest fanfic experience, when I was making a living doing search engine optimization in 2003ish and getting annoyed with writers who’d give their characters nicknames or pet names, and I was like, your shit won’t show up when people Google for fic about this how could you be so short-sighted, and it was the fucking Dark Ages and tags hadn’t been invented yet so I was like, obsessed with how many times the characters’ names appeared in any given paragraph, and I had until this moment completely forgotten that this had ever occurred or been something I had even paid attention to.
