Favorite Lines of Mine

On occasion, I like to open my writing folder and look back over various stories and drabbles I've written over the years. Some of them make me cringe, but there's always one or two that make me go, "Wait, did I write this? It's so good!" It's an excellent exercise for those times when the words just aren't coming so easily and I wonder if I'm losing my ability to create art with words -- not that I think I'm the Van Goh of writing, but I do believe writing is an art.

Anyway, I thought I'd share some snippets that I really liked with you today because I'm too lazy to do a real post.

From an erotic ficlet I wrote based on one of my role-play character's dreams about her lover:

It hurts. He's biting her hard enough to leave a bruise, and she wants more. She wants him to hurt her; she needs him to hurt her. If this wasn't a dream, she tells herself she'd stop him. She wouldn't enjoy this so much if it were real, she says in her head, but deep down she knows it's a lie.

From another little ficlet I wrote a couple of years ago for a different role-play character, who is now retired:

"But torture isn't exactly a great way to gain information. Foldy believes she knows proper application of the various techniques - if there truly is such a thing. However, by using my knowledge of your central nervous system, a few well-placed spells, and a couple of medical instruments, I could get you to confess to some of the worst crimes in history. I could make you turn on your own pack and label your closest friends as monsters. You'd do anything to get me to make the pain go away, even if it meant your own death. You'd tell me everything I'd want to hear, regardless of whether it was true or not."

"The confidence with which you said that both frightens and slightly arouses me," Stephen admitted, barely getting his arm up in time to block a slap from Clotho.

Here's something from a novel I'm starting:

Of course it would be just like Devon to do something at the spur of the moment, including commit suicide. That was just the sort of person he was. Act now, think later had been his motto throughout most of his life, whereas I was the type to look thrice before I leapt. That probably explains why I was the honor student to his juvenile delinquent.

And finally, here's something I rediscovered today that I had totally forgotten about. It's over two years old, and I think I'll come back to and turn into a short story.

"Just a second. Stop knocking, will ya'?" He managed to get the zipper up before reaching the door, but his hand stopped short of the doorknob. Whoever or whatever was banging on his door smelled foul. He knew that smell. It was the overwhelming scent of decay and rotted flesh. Zombie? It wouldn't be the first time he'd encountered one, but in his apartment on a Sunday morning with all the fresh meat between wherever this thing had come from and his apartment? It wasn't behaving as a zombie would.

To the right of the door was his old Louisville slugger, which he picked it up. It wasn't as effective as a bullet to the head, but he was certain his clueless neighbors would get a little miffed if he fired off a gun, and telling the police he was defending himself against the undead would win him a one-way trip to the mental ward. He opened the door a crack to see what was there. It was a woman, mid-twenties he guessed, with long dark hair. She wasn't a zombie, but the smell of death and decay clung to her and he noticed she was caked in dirt from head to toe. It was dirt from a grave. Her own scent was underneath the stench. It was pleasant and somehow familiar, but Brian couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Uh, can I help you?"

"Shower," the woman answered.

Brian scratched his head and opened the door a smidgen wider. "What?"

"Shower," she stepped foward, putting a hand on the door and pushing it open. "You do have one, don't you?"

Still Here

No, I haven't forgotten about this blog. May has been a busier month than expected this year as my son has been playing t-ball and we've had to tend to various end-of-year school activities. With the added stress of a possible move to North Carolina this summer, I've been a little stressed to say the least. Even my LiveJournal has taken a hit. It's not that nothing is happening, it's that too much is happening and what free time I do have has been spent pursuing activities that don't require much brain power, though I think I should look into making sleep a priority if I don't want to fall over dead at some point.

I have been writing here and there. What I have written has been substandard in my opinion, but I hope to turn that around tonight or tomorrow by finishing up a little erotic ficlet based on one of my role-play characters. That is, if I can stop having some computer issues and the weather behaves and doesn't cause a power outage. (I swear Murphy, of Murphy's Law fame, and I are bosom buddies by this point. He likes to crash at my house all the time.)

At any rate, I plan to produce another post before the end of this week. The subject of the post is up for debate at this point, but I hope to keep it in line with the general theme of this blog.

Why I Write: I Want Better Heroines

I think this post is rather weak and a bit slow to get to the point, or maybe it misses the point entirely -- I'm a bit too sleep-deprived to tell. I will say that this is part of my process of making myself write something every day without fail, and sometimes the quality just isn't going to be so great. This will teach me to A) get on a better sleep schedule, and B) to keep writing even when it's not so great. Again, this blog isn't just about explaining why I write, it's about keeping myself at the keyboard.

When I was about eight years old, I begged and pleaded my parents to get me Super Mario Bros. 2 for the NES. I wanted this game not only because I loved the original Super Mario Bros., but mostly because I knew in this game I would have the opportunity to play as Princess Peach. These were the days before Lara Croft and her awesome polygonal dimensions, and while there was Metroid, you never really noticed Samus was a woman beneath all that armor. I was eager to play as Princess Peach because she wasn't the damsel in distress this time; she was part of the action and was going to help defeat the Big Bad. Not only that, she was going to be doing all her butt-kicking while wearing a pink dress and a tiara. I wasn't ever really into wearing dresses, but I did love the color pink and I was partial to tiaras at the time, so it was a win-win situation for me.

Twenty years later, I still remember the disappointment I felt after playing through the first level as Peach. No, it wasn't because the American version of SMB2 was actually Doki Doki Panic and thus not a Mario game in the truest sense. What really disappointed me was that Princess Peach was the weakest physical character in the game; it took her longer than any of the other characters to pick up objects and toss them, which was a definite disadvantage when going against some monsters. Also, her unique ability was that she could float for a limited period of time, an ability that was almost similar to Luigi's ability to jump really high and have a bit of a hang time (though admittedly not quite as long as Peach's). I wasn't stupid and even at eight years old I was able to understand the message loud and clear: Girls are weaker than boys and not very good at fighting. When Super Mario Bros. 3 came out, Princess Peach once more became the damsel in distress, incapable of defending herself against the monster Bowser.

It was an ugly lesson to learn about gender roles and society's expectations for women, especially for a girl whose favorite activities included butterfly hunting and exploring the woods around her house rather than dressing up and putting on makeup. I've always wondered why it's so hard to find television shows, movies, or books that depict heroines capable of saving their own butts without the need for a parental figure and/or a man to step in and rescue them. This isn't to say there haven't been some amazing fictional heroines out there -- Buffy Summers, Xena, Caitlin Todd, Ziva David, Abby Sciuto, Hermione Granger, Anita Blake, Calliope Reaper-Jones, Riley Jensen, etc. -- but there's still not enough of them I'd say, and some of those names I listed are supporting characters to male leads, or who started out strong and became less so, which brings me back to my point of heroines being seemingly incapable of taking care of themselves without the assistance of a male figure. I have to admit it's one of my biggest pet peeves and one of the reasons I want to write.

I suppose it might sound a bit egotistical to say that one of my biggest motivators for writing is that I want to write the sort of heroine I feel is missing from most media. I'm tired of disappointing books, movies, and shows that promise strong female leads and fail to deliver in one or more ways, and I think I've just come to the conclusion that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Granted, I may lack the skills necessary, but maybe by writing what I want to see I can learn how to better articulate my hopes for heroic female leads on to writers and directors who do have the talent and ability to transfer an idea from dream to reality.

Of course, that won't stop me from writing about women who wield swords, kick bad-guy butt, and still get the man/woman in the end.