The AH Coffee Shop and Reading Room 09

It's expected to get below freezing tonight, and it's raining all day.

And my dizziness and vertigo is back, I dun wanna sleep upright.

Although maybe it might have something to do with the sad plot bunny that had me crying as I fell asleep.

I want to write the next part of one of my stories but I dont know what the plot should be...
For once I want a plot bunny!
Try holding out a carrot and luring one close. If that doesn't work you could pry this one off my back.
 
Twitchy Steve, the world's 2nd worst tattoo artist, gets locked overnight in an Amazon distribution center and develops a fear of rectangles.
Okay that wont work for my sci-fi plot but alien tattoos...could be something in there. Hmmmm.


Went to the library for inspiration and apparently "physically disabled protagonist" + "sci-fi" is not a common combination. Maybe thats part of why Part 1 is doing well with an online audience. Gives me some motivation to get it finished and maybe try for a self-publication.

In drafting mode, I would like to write 5-6K a day on average. Some days are better, some worse. I have had too many worse recently. When I'm "in the groove" I can write about 10K of draft a day. But I haven't been able to really get there in a few months. This is the first time I feel close. And if it wasn't for students turning in their assignments, I could stay there.
I was utterly shocked when I checked my word count recently. 83k for the month of November, 150k since the beginning of October. So Im averaging around 3k a day, and thats with me mostly writing longhand and then typing it up later.

Amazing what I can accomplish when I dont anaesthasize myself into oblivion for hours every night.
 
Went to the library for inspiration and apparently "physically disabled protagonist" + "sci-fi" is not a common combination. Maybe thats part of why Part 1 is doing well with an online audience. Gives me some motivation to get it finished and maybe try for a self-publication.
Yeah, the only ones I can think of are Ann McCaffrey shell people, which was most fully explored in her ship that sings book. But... Thinking back on it they were really sad and all kinds of morally wrong, they took disabled babies and children and permanently encased them in metal tubes so they could raise them to run ships and stations and stuff.
 
I got a good 500 words in this morning. That's not a lot, but I was about to write the next scene but didn't really know what I wanted to do with it, so those 500 words came with a lot of thinking...
500 WORDS REVISITED: The British poet Wordsworth says that good writing is 'emotion recollected in tranquility.' I think of this phrase now while writing this note. Being distanced from Bernard now for some time, I can try to obtain that writing perspective where the emotion of our moments together is time recollected in the tranquility of the present. When I was at Wellesley College, I frequently repeated that Wordsworthian quote, but never questioned its validity with Professor Gartner.

I now wonder if it's really possible to recollect emotion in tranquility. When I begin to write about the people with whom I shared so many adventures, my tranquility quickly dissipates and I find myself becoming excited from the recollection of the experiences, as if they were happening again here and now. Will I ever be able to write about Magda, for example, without immediately being transported back to those moments we shared? I would like to think that I might obtain some degree of objectivity in my writing at some point in my life, but I don't know if that will happen.
 
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Yeah, the only ones I can think of are Ann McCaffrey shell people, which was most fully explored in her ship that sings book. But... Thinking back on it they were really sad and all kinds of morally wrong, they took disabled babies and children and permanently encased them in metal tubes so they could raise them to run ships and stations and stuff.
yikes on bikes
 
I got a good 500 words in this morning....
IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD: I remember so well meeting Magda for the very first time. While I flirted with the men who crowded about me so ready to buy me drinks, I held her image in the forefront of my mind. I would talk and smile at them, but when I surreptitiously touched my breasts I would see her from the corner of my eyes. And, yes, she noticed me. Who can ever know what will happen as life unravels its twisted cords of fate?

She was working on her Master's in English Lit, and she hated to write papers. I love writing English papers. I wrote her papers and she collected the grades. It was a simple relationship at first.
Once we were roommates at Wellesley, Magda in the early morning hours used to write me poetry on pieces of yellow lined legal paper. She slipped it among my daily-notes at night. I would awake to find her words scrawled in red ballpoint ink, bright red words on yellow paper.

So many words. So many sheets of paper torn from so many legal pads. I collected her words in an accordion folder that grew fat with the excess of her language. Later as I moved from city to city, from country to country, I started to collecting more words and images; making poetry from lost tales and broken syllables. And always remembering: 'In the beginning was the word...'
 
Okay that wont work for my sci-fi plot but alien tattoos...could be something in there. Hmmmm.


Went to the library for inspiration and apparently "physically disabled protagonist" + "sci-fi" is not a common combination. Maybe thats part of why Part 1 is doing well with an online audience. Gives me some motivation to get it finished and maybe try for a self-publication.


I was utterly shocked when I checked my word count recently. 83k for the month of November, 150k since the beginning of October. So Im averaging around 3k a day, and thats with me mostly writing longhand and then typing it up later.

Amazing what I can accomplish when I dont anaesthasize myself into oblivion for hours every night.
Long hand? What? My hands shake so badly these days, the words come out like the needle on a seismograph. When I was young I could type pretty well, over 50 wpm. I'm so glad computers are around today to fix up those mistakes. I think I must have killed forests and rubber trees in particular erasing and retyping so many papers in the old days. Ah, the angrey sound of paper snatched from a platen of a Remington manual keyboard!
 
Long hand? What? My hands shake so badly these days, the words come out like the needle on a seismograph. When I was young I could type pretty well, over 50 wpm. I'm so glad computers are around today to fix up those mistakes. I think I must have killed forests and rubber trees in particular erasing and retyping so many papers in the old days. Ah, the angrey sound of paper snatched from a platen of a Remington manual keyboard!
My writing speed is limited by the speed of my thoughts rather than my hands, so it works well for me, but yeah, definitely not for everyone!
I write in cursive, even. Millennials do know it!
Typing things on a computer is of course more efficient but its less "real". After a good writing session i can hold the pages in my hand and say "this is how much I did today."
I actually kind of want a typewriter, lol. But I cant justify the cost, space, or noise. Isn't it funny how one generation's obsolete and useless is the next generation's vintage toy?
 
On my way to a sauna day with a sober queer men's group. (Explicitly stated as a non-crusing space - hopefully people stick to that. Yes I know this is a Literotica forum and it might spark some story ideas for me but IRL I'm not looking right now.)
I've never done a nude sauna before. Ought to be an interesting experience. I don't get to do a lot of things for men and I could use more male friends. Could use more friends period, actually.
 
I just wanna know if it’s possible to learn this power. I suspect it’s not a story that the Jedi would tell you.
It's truly a simple skill to learn - quit your job, dump your hobbies, read far too much science fiction. It also helps if your health has completely gone to hell and you start counting the days you have left. Suddenly all kinds of ideas pop into your head.
 
On my way to a sauna day with a sober queer men's group. (Explicitly stated as a non-crusing space - hopefully people stick to that. Yes I know this is a Literotica forum and it might spark some story ideas for me but IRL I'm not looking right now.)
I've never done a nude sauna before. Ought to be an interesting experience. I don't get to do a lot of things for men and I could use more male friends. Could use more friends period, actually.
Whatever you say, that has to spark some fun story ideas!
 
I just gave up on a story I've been working on for a long time. I am a little disappointed in myself because it was a cool idea. I just couldn't execute it properly.

But it's also a relief... I don't have to struggle with it anymore and I've got several sex scenes I could use in other stories. And saying it out loud is somehow freeing as well, so thank you for humoring me.
Are you a messenger sent by God to tell me to give up on the never ending story?
Or if I did would I just have the problem of "what's next? "
 
Another cold morning and the promised snow never showed up. It did rain overnight so the roads are probably slick but I'm staying in for now.

There's a fresh pot of coffee brewing and the teapot is steaming. There are donuts and the last of the pumpkin roll on the counter. All Thanksgiving leftovers have been eaten so it's time to start putting up the Christmas decorations. If anyone wants to volunteer to start putting them up, the boxes are behind the counter and I need someone to pull the tree out of the backroom so we can start decorating it.

I'll be over in the corner working on my story. I'm almost ready to start the last sex scene to finish the story. I can't wait to see how it turns out. I think my Mise is, too, because the words are coming pretty easy at the moment.
 
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