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Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS

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  • Originally posted by Gay Panda View Post
    I liked those assignments as well. I think Anne Lamott spoke about those in Bird by Bird, giving an assignment like "school lunches" to her students and letting them write a certain amount about it.

    When it came to learning how to write a book, I just had to start writing books and figure it out on my own. Poems were of no use, nor were my teachers. I learned my most important lesson about writing pretty quickly:

    not having an outline = writer's block

    I know an author who can write books without an outline and she just follows the plot where it goes, but I can't do this AT ALL.
    Bird by Bird was great.

    Also, my entire undergrad degree is in professional writing, so I have taken a ridiculous number of writing courses. Then I graduated and joined the Dark Side (in other words, I became an editor).

    I used to describe my work in publishing as being a therapist for neurotic writers.
    “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.” --Audre Lorde

    Owly's Journal

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    • Originally posted by Owly View Post
      I used to describe my work in publishing as being a therapist for neurotic writers.
      I love this.

      It's so very easy to be neurotic about writing. When I was bussing tables, I either did it correctly or I didn't. It wasn't subjective. It was the same when I was a musician. The audience might have criticized me for playing with little emotion, but I either hit the right notes or missed them. Writing is a very different game, and Lady Friend has told me many times to stop being neurotic about my work. (Am I any better after so many books, Lady Friend? I hope I am.)

      What kind of personalities did you see as an editor? I don't know that many writers, but I noticed two distinct types.

      Type 1: Like Gay Panda and most others I've met, this writer is sad that someone could dislike the work-in-progress, and terrified that it might not be possible to make it better. Some books just don't work and you can't save them. It also would be nice if first drafts could be perfect, but they are not. Your first draft sucks. Your second draft will be better. Your tenth might be great. This, however, is hard to remember/accept when you're caught up in the rawness of the first. Your feelings are easily hurt, and when a beta reader says, "I like this, BUT-" your heart plunges into the pit of your stomach.

      Type 2: Like Fruity Fairy and Three Things I Do Well (has she appeared in this journal yet?), this writer is ENRAGED that someone could dislike the work-in-progress. What the hell is wrong with you? Can't you recognize staggering genius when it lands in your lap? Fruity Fairy (who wrote fantasy) decided to only write the first three chapters of her novel and blitz-query editors, confident that they would be blown away by her brilliance and offer a six-figure advance for her to finish the book. This writer believes, nay, KNOWS that this first draft is sheer gold, and nothing will ever convince him/her otherwise. EVER!!!
      JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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      • Originally posted by Gay Panda View Post
        All right, for your reading pleasure tonight, on Pandaloonery I posted about the embarrassing place I was in when I got the idea for the Rune series. Here on MDA tomorrow when I wake up, I will post parts I and II of Young Gay Panda meeting Young Lady Friend, and the day after that you will get Parts III and IV. Because I am a wordy panda.
        Yay! Panda stories. <running off to read at Pandaloonery>

        <bouncing back to FABULOUS> Silly Panda. Some of the very best ideas show up while one is in the shower. My sister and I once talked about writing a book titled "Bathroom Wisdom" because we get so many good ideas while in there. We even decided that the cover art should include an outhouse in true Southern style. Alas, neither of us is very disciplined about writing, and so this gem of literary brilliance has never been published.
        "There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls." - George Carlin

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        • Three Things I Do Well has not yet made an appearance.

          *waits (im)patiently for a new story*
          http://cattaillady.com/ My blog exploring the beginning stages of learning how to homestead. With the occasional rant.

          Originally Posted by TheFastCat: Less is more more or less

          And now I have an Etsy store: CattailsandCalendula

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          • Originally posted by drssgchic View Post
            Three Things I Do Well has not yet made an appearance.

            *waits (im)patiently for a new story*
            Oh dear, I'll have to find some way to make that XXX-rated woman more of a G- to PG-rating for this journal.
            JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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            • Originally posted by Gay Panda View Post
              Oh dear, I'll have to find some way to make that XXX-rated woman more of a G- to PG-rating for this journal.
              Colorful innuendo... you're a pro at this, so NO problem.
              “You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.”
              ~Friedrich Nietzsche
              And that's why I'm here eating HFLC Primal/Paleo.

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              • Eye of the Storm's awful little yappy dog Shelob bit Poo Hurler!!!

                JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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                • Originally posted by Gay Panda View Post
                  Eye of the Storm's awful little yappy dog Shelob bit Poo Hurler!!!

                  Ummm, I'm afraid for any repercussions the poor Shelob might face, besides the nasty taste she is undoubtedly already trying in vain to remove from her tongue, but Poo Hurler getting bitten is a bit of a lark!
                  “You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.”
                  ~Friedrich Nietzsche
                  And that's why I'm here eating HFLC Primal/Paleo.

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                  • Originally posted by Gay Panda View Post
                    Eye of the Storm's awful little yappy dog Shelob bit Poo Hurler!!!

                    lolol
                    beautiful
                    yeah you are

                    Baby if you time travel back far enough you can avoid that work because the dust won't be there. You're too pretty to be working that hard.
                    lol

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                    • Originally posted by Urban Forager View Post
                      When you described the cafeteria and your dorm room I kept thinking the horror! Was there no sanctuary for you? I couldn't have handled it. Can't imagine my son in that situation either.
                      Midway through the first semester, Religious, Slob, and I had a falling-out. I couldn't take the incredible mess or the proselytizing and I was growing very depressed from family issues and the round-the-clock stimuli that I could not escape. Anyway, the falling-out led to us being broken apart by the RA, and I landed in a single. *whew*
                      JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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                      • Originally posted by Gay Panda View Post
                        Midway through the first semester, Religious, Slob, and I had a falling-out. I couldn't take the incredible mess or the proselytizing and I was growing very depressed from family issues and the round-the-clock stimuli that I could not escape. Anyway, the falling-out led to us being broken apart by the RA, and I landed in a single. *whew*
                        I lived in a double room with only myself for the last two years of my dorm life. It was utter bliss.
                        Primal since March 5, 2012
                        SW: 221 | CW: 204 | LPW: 166 | UGW: 140 (80 lbs loss)



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                        • PART THREE: College creative writing! I was thrilled. One is not born knowing how to write a book, and until then all I’d mastered was short stories and novellas. This teacher had written books, not my genres but still, actual books, and so she was a master of the art. I was desperate to learn her wisdom. Maybe by the end of the semester, I’d have my very own book written. Creative writing was not a major in my college, nor was it taken seriously by anyone as an elective, but I enrolled in the class in a passion of excitement and preemptive dedication.

                          On the first day of the semester, I waded impatiently through my morning of drudgery in science and music, the craziness of the cafeteria, and then I flew across campus on the wings of joy. Students waited in the hall. As the clock approached three, a sour-faced, bushy-haired woman in her fifties approached with an armload of books and opened the door. I took a desk and readied my pen and paper for knowledge. BANG went those books on the teacher’s desk, and the woman perched on the edge to survey us in dissatisfaction. We shifted in our seats uncomfortably as she turned from sour to angry at every opening of the classroom door. Lady Friend had also signed up for this class, taking a seat across from me.

                          The clock hit three and the teacher hissed, “We are over-enrolled for this class.”
                          We stared at her silently, taken aback by the rage in her eyes.
                          “I am only supposed to have fifteen students!” she spat.
                          Heads turned as we counted. There were sixteen of us, and the door admitted one more. Okay, seventeen. From the amount of heat in her voice, I’d expected forty. She proceeded to have a tantrum right there before us. How was she supposed to teach with so many students? It detracted from the experience. It meant less individual attention. She’d told the registrar to cap it at fifteen and look! SEVENTEEN STUDENTS! Fresh from a high school where every class was packed to the brim with 35+ students, in which there were more kids than desks and teachers scrambled to find chairs and textbooks, I had no sympathy. The door swung open again and an eighteenth student entered, the teacher exploding at the poor girl, “WE’RE FULL!”

                          With grievance she read the syllabus, and I saw with disappointment an emphasis on poetry, poetry forms, and very dry theory. I’d never thought anything to do with creative writing could bore me, but by our break at the midpoint of that first class, I was nearly in a coma. She reiterated her unhappiness all through the hour, seventeen instead of fifteen and how unfair this was to her. To us! But mostly to her! Unwilling to spend a semester writing poetry and looking at that sour face, I sadly packed up my belongings at the break and wondered if I dared to just leave while the teacher was in the can. Students stretched their legs in the hall and visited the water fountain. Somehow Lady Friend and I ended up together out there as I debated what to do. Seeing my backpack, she asked if I intended to drop.

                          “I think so,” I said. “She’s so angry.”
                          “I think I’m going to stay,” Lady Friend said. That was how we parted, me going to the stairs to split* and she returning to the classroom. We did not see each other again for almost four years.
                          Last edited by Gay Panda; 05-31-2012, 07:44 AM.
                          JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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                          • I stayed one night in a dorm during pre-registration, it was a double. Between the weird guy they roomed me with and the big bathroom used by the whole floor, I said this stuff ain't for me. I'm too private of a person for all that. Luckily, I went to school close to home.
                            If I just said LOL, I lied. Do or do not. There is no try.

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                            • Yeah, the shared bathroom was a drag.

                              As were the fire alarms as the bars closed... 12 floors down and then 12 floors up. Not a fun thing to do at 2 am...
                              Primal since March 5, 2012
                              SW: 221 | CW: 204 | LPW: 166 | UGW: 140 (80 lbs loss)



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                              • Originally posted by jenn26point2 View Post
                                I lived in a double room with only myself for the last two years of my dorm life. It was utter bliss.
                                My first year, I landed with a sports medicine major. While we weren't friends, we adapted to the 10x10 room fairly easily.
                                My second roommate wasn't there. She bought a dorm room and lived with her parents in town. Never got that one, but hey, I got a single for a double price.
                                My third one was a bit kooky (Wiccan because she was rebelling, bi and engaged because it was convenient, metal arts major who woudn't know the right end of a welding torch), but livable until she grabbed my ass while I was brushing my teeth. I made no bones abt that before she moved in: she could hit on anyone she wanted, so long as she wasn't hitting on me or anyone I was dating. THe instant she grabbed my ass, I essentially did all I could to lay down firmer rules and tell her that the friendship was OVER, because I knew the RAs wouldn't do anything abt it for the 2 months of the semester/ year we had left.
                                After that, I moved the fark out of the dorms.
                                Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
                                My Latest Journal

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