Shush, you. Yes, I am going to weigh-in on this one. Filtering and self-censorship are difficult for me. My motto, “To know me is to know I can’t shut my pie-hole.”
I really like this blog, and look forward to reading it:
But I am not sure I agree with that particular post.
I am in a position to encourage writers, of all ages. I have never had a book published (yet–dream #28), and to those of you who look at any reason not to write, all I can tell you is get over yourself. So, because of someone’s readership numbers, are you telling me because Neil Gaiman has sold more books than I have, I shouldn’t write? Because Stephen King hacks out an awesome novel that still gives me chills to think about (The Shining), I shouldn’t think of my own scary stories? If you have something to say, say it, dammit, let the critics be damned. What I suspect is that most creative souls are their own worst critics. If I seriously stopped for one second and let someone like a Stephanie Myers get me down, then all would be lost. If anything, I am going to write those novels as an antidote to the Twilight series. Haters be hating, and I hate those books. Okay. Except for Team Jacob. Okay. Okay. I submit. And she did capture virgin-lust-painful-teenage-longing well. Okay. Whatever.
The Internet has brought me a place to freely express myself. I can make mistakes, write, whine, laugh, and imagine all I want. It is my sandbox, and though once in a while there is some neighborhood cat poop, for the most part, it is damn fun.
I may never publish anything. I may never create a masterpiece like To Kill A Mockingbird, or East of Eden. But I write, and it saves my sanity. It’s my sanity, and I’m sticking to it. My numbers? Currently over 17,000. Many of those were looking for Beavis and Butthead, and some Big Bird, but some were looking for me, and my stories. If it were 1,000 or just 1, it doesn’t matter. We found each other, and that’s what counts.
Postscript: I need a Bear hug.
For some time now, this series on ‘archetypes’ has been rumbling around my brain. Anything, dear readers, you would like to contribute or mention, please do so. Most of this is based on sheer, uneducated opinion. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, indeed.
Archetype: A symbol, usually an image, which recurs often enough in literature to be recognizable as an element of one’s literary experience as a whole. Carl Jung used the term “archetype” to refer to the generalized patterns of images that form the world of human representations in recurrent motifs, passing through the history of all culture. Since archetypes are rooted in the collective unconscious, they may be conceived through the psychic activity of any individual, be it in the form of dreams, art works, the ancient monuments of religious activity, or the contemporary images of commercial advertising. Such archetypes as the “innocent babe,” the “unheeded prophet,” the “philosopher’s stone,” and many others which also have their source in the primitive darkness of the unconscious, are repeated in numerous works of cultural creation.
Something is in the air, because in keeping with the hocus-pocus theme I seem to be conjuring lately, Zep downed some POI and changed into this:
|“Bill, strange things are afoot at the Circle K…”|
Is this a Worgen transformation I’m sensing? A trick of fuzzy meaning and duplicity? In any case, I am entranced. Modifying this to riding togs, complete with a lady’s English side-saddle and hoop skirt would be amazing. Would that only the Worgen mounts were more interesting…
Coincidentally, I had been thinking of re-watching several “magician” themed movies:
His damn cat.
And there was a smell of sulfur, too. She would have to have a chat with Cen.
Theme song (only because it started playing on Pandora when I hit the post button):
Wolfmother/The Joker and the Thief
Tomorrow is the day to submit your links to your images for http://wowsugar.blogspot.com/2012/02/azeroths-next-top-plate-model.html
Otherwise, I will take the liberty of scouting out the chicas myself. Don’t want to leave a good blog post behind, ya know.
I am sincerely, thoroughly spooked.
Long story short: my mage friend has been playing tricks on me. “Zep” recently wrote him a letter, and dashed into Dalaran during a break today to check on some things. Drinking some of the Potion of Illusion he made for “her,” she changed into this:
|Zep tries on this glamor for a bit…|
Now, what is spooky is I have been thinking about going back to Night Elf priest on Zep for some time, and changing Ceniza back to a Draenei. I have this dress, and now I know how beautiful it looks on an Elf. It is like that potion read my mind.
Now, as far as the tricks and pranks go–that is a story for another day.
I get some crazy crap in my e-mail, but this one caught my attention:
Social Skills for Preschoolers.
Worth a read. They should be on every guild charter.
Ironnskillet got jumped by three trolls, too.
The only one who has turned my bad attitude around about Blood Elf females is Cyrme from Bubbles of Mischief. Her girls don’t seem as aloof or bored as many of the others I’ve encountered. Her screenshots are exquisite, with a keen sense of staging and creative costuming, and her excellent writing make for a top-notch blog. When I go into my California Valley-girl accent (of which I can do a mean one), it is not for the lovely, graceful Blood Elves of Cyrme’s world.
|“Wut-evah, theeze stoopid guards or wut-evah keep making me do stuff, fer shure….”
Okay, that’s uncalled for, but it’s for you, M.R. in ninth grade, and you, L.S., yeah, you.