Awesome Weather/What I'm Writing

Kudos to Emily for the pretty pictures! ^_^

Summer is almost like a privilege in Minnesota sometimes, or at least it seems like it must be. Winter is so honestly, bitterly cold that when it starts staying above freezing during the day time, it's a blessing, and when it's above freezing at night, it's a miracle, which makes the first day of 45 degree (Fahrenheit) temperatures in March just about heavenly and the high 50s/low 60s in April something indescribable.

According to my nifty thermometer thing, it is currently 79 degrees outside.

It's very easy to forget how amazing and wonderful it is when it's this warm out. How the sun feels like it's reaching out to hug you and the birds are all singing and you can hear the first of the summer bugs in the bushes. I adore it, more than I can say. I am so glad I was able to ride Albany (my bicycle) home today and spend an extra half an hour just in-tune with Nature.

That being said, I've also been writing a lot lately. I think Ci Pier got put on an unintentional hiatus—on Thursday night, characters from my on-going brainchild, my vampires, started muttering in my head, and I've been working on a new section of that story ever since. Many of my friends serve as the basis of different characters in the story—I don't adhere the vampire to the person in real life, but I often use the personality of a friend to help me form a character who isn't quite clear enough just in my head. Yesterday, a vampire started talking who seemed both familiar and new. Upon thinking about it, I realized she “belonged” to Madison—that is, her essence and some of her emotions and reactions are based on Madi's. After thinking on it a bit more, it came to my attention that this vampire was actually one I'd written about in the very first draft of the vampire story. Since then, she's been more than happy to chatter away at me. I'll probably end up writing a couple blurbs from her point of view.

I also started to re-write the very first part of the story. The first character, Amanda, threw a whole new set of circumstances at me the other day. Here's some of what I have for the second draft of Desire so far. I hope you like it!

Amanda fought through the mass of people crammed against the door of soulBOUND, the eccentric almost-underground club. She finally managed to break through the increasingly angry mass of people and flash her blacklight-purple wristband to the bouncer/security guard at the club's door. His eyes narrowed, giving her a once-over. She could see him getting ready to ask for ID, so she made herself look harried and desperate.

“I'm with a band,” she said, rotating her arm so that the letters VIP stood out clearly on the wristband, and half-shouting to make herself heard over the music. The bouncer's eyes stayed narrow.

“Which band?” he asked.

“Shards of the Joker,” she shouted, and the guard remained suspicious. She didn't blame him—she was sure she wasn't the only under-age girl to show up without ID and claim to be with the headlining band. “I'm Amaclare. Ah-ma-claire. Their vocalist?”

She saw understanding flood his face, and relief rushed through her, numbed in its intensity a bit due to the Vicodin she'd taken before coming. “You're late. They're going fuckin' insane looking for you.” He gave nod to the security guy just inside the door, and that guy nodded at Amanda, apparently wanting her to follow him. She did, marveling a bit at how the packed crowd parted around the large man. She was led down a small hallway, to a door that proclaimed BANDS ONLY in plain black text on a white sheet of paper. She pushed it open and was met by a veritable roar of approval.

“Amaclare!”

“You made it!”

“Got past those fuckers then?”

“It worked, huh? It fucking worked!”

The last voice was Jason, guitarist for Shards of the Joker and mastermind of the plan to get Amanda inside soulBOUND.

“You're a fucking genius, Jace,” she said. “All I had to do was look late and pissed off.”

“We had fun, we threw a fucking fit, right? 'Where's Amaclare, her sorry ass is supposed to be here, we go on in an hour, her fucking phone is off, we can't play without her.' We made them so goddamn annoyed, they would have let you in if you were fucking twelve!”

“Good fucking shit, guys,” she approved. “When do we go on?”

“11:15. You've got like a half-hour.”

“Sweet deal,” Amanda proclaimed, throwing her long coat off of herself and onto a chair unselfconsciously, if a little theatrically. Her bandmates murmured their surprised approval, and one of them—she thought it might have been Jason—gave a low whistle. The outfit had exactly the effect she'd intended it to have.