Autocomplete is... Helpful?

Something silly to share today.

Because my arms don't work as well as they should, I type using an on-screen keyboard. As I click on letters it displays words it thinks I'm trying to type, and I can click on them to save time. In theory.

Usually I click the wrong word, and have to go back and fix it. Or I don't realize what I did and get really confused during editing. Like that time my soldiers were talking about waffles instead of warfare.

But something amazing happened last night. I clicked on the wrong word... and it was actually better than the word I was trying for!

I was trying to type

"Diana and Phyllis don't exist right now," I say, staring down at an alien body.

I think I typed an S instead of a D and just clicked the first word it offered, because I somehow ended up with

"Diana and Phyllis don't exist right now," I say, staring down at an alien bosom.

At first I was like, "Ew, no. Stop looking at your boobs, you weirdo." But my main character has had some memory... uploads and, for all intents and purposes, her brain is not her brain. The memories, for the most part, came from a guy, so from his perspective it's alien for him to suddenly be female, and it's totally reasonable that the breasts in particular are alien to him. I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've ever been pleased with autocomplete.

It's also the first time in my life I think I've ever used the word "bosom" (or even really talked about one?) so it's clear autocomplete doesn't know me at all. (Though it was right to replace warfare with waffles; international disputes should be more delicious.)

(And yes, it kind of sounds like she's named them Diana and Phyllis. I know. It sounds much better in context. :D )

　

Also, a reviewer on Goodreads compared Circuits & Slippers to The Lunar Chronicles books by Marissa Meyer. I know my story is only a teensy bit of the book, but I'm so excited that we're even in the same sentence as those amazing books.

Everything is blah lately.

I feel like I haven't been reading all the blogs and sites I normally do, and while I'm getting a lot of writing done it doesn't feel like the stories are moving forward. (But if I ever finish this one book, which I'm calling Pink Reincarnations at the moment, there will be some hilarious editing notes because I've changed the plot so many times that I don't even know what's happening anymore).

　

But I do have something I'm proud of. I made a glove!

When I'm not writing, I crochet. I really love making things with my hands; it's more of an immediate satisfaction for my creativity, where I can see and touch the progress, while writing takes forever and is just a mess of words unless you really look at it.

I used to draw and make dollhouse miniatures but my hands and muscles have stopped cooperating with me enough that it isn't enjoyable.

Usually I make little stuffed animals and flowers to accent my grandmother's hats, but she gave me a bunch of super soft scrap yarn and I'm making myself a pair of gloves.

　

[Image shows a hand resting on a wheelchair joystick, wearing a

lacy purple fingerless glove with yellow cuff.]

I hate having my fingers trapped in mittens and gloves and they make it hard to drive my wheelchair, so these are fingerless and the one I wear on my driving hand has a big hole in the palm for my joystick. And since the muscular dystrophy makes my fingers bend funny, the gloves are extra loose and have a strap to tighten them (which I made out of a keychain and a picture hanging hook 'cuz I'm thrifty like that. Also we couldn't find my big box of buttons).

The lacy stitch I used was a complete accident; I just wanted to whip up a few rows to check the fit, and it ended up looking cute. The colors are much more vivid in real life.

IWSG: 5 Years from Now

On the first Wednesday of every month, the Insecure Writer’s Support Group encourages writers to talk about their insecurities.

 

 

Each month, they also have an optional question to answer. This month it's: In terms of your writing career, where do you see yourself five years from now, and what’s your plan to get there?

I'm going to try to take this question seriously (unlike the last time I talked about my writing goals).

Of course I'd like to have a novel published, whether that's FreakShow or ones that I'm working on now.

More short stories published. I really enjoyed the entire process of having my story in Circuits & Slippers. I'd love to do that again.

And I doubt it'll be in the next five years, but it would be amazing if my work was made into a movie or TV show. "Based on the novel by Jennifer Lee Rossman" in the credits.

But as for my plan... There isn't really much more that I can do besides writing the best stories I can and submitting to as many markets as I can.

Beyond that, I can only hope that my work gets in the hands of someone who likes it.

Now as for my general writerly insecurities, I know it was kind of a fluke that I had three things accepted within two months, but I'm a little... annoyed that nothing else has been accepted since. Like, what's so different? Has my writing gotten worse somehow? Have I not been trying as hard? I'm pretty sure the answer is no to both, but that isn't helpful.
And I'm at the point in most of my projects where I'm floundering and have no clue what happens next and feel like nothing I'm doing is any good. But that always happens and I'm used to it.
And then there's my novel FreakShow, which has been getting some really nice rejection letters and I don't know what's wrong with it.
　

But on the bright side, my story Chrysalis will be read as a podcast on Cast of Wonders in the first half of 2017. They had some delays, but are nailing down their schedule. Yaaay.

 

I Don't Read (a post I wrote almost a year ago)

(So I wrote this post months ago. And then I decided it was sad and embarrassing and I didn't want to post it until I could say it wasn't true anymore. It isn't. And this is the part where I'd point you to my Goodreads page to show you all the books I've read, but I somehow managed to mass delete a lot of my ratings? (Because I'm so smart and good at computers.) So while I go and try to remember everything I've read for the last few months, enjoy this post that is now full of lies!)

(Oh, and if you were wondering, I was successful at my "write a page every time I'm on the computer in November" challenge. And I think the pressure gave me some interesting plot twists. Congratulations to everyone who did actual Nanowrimo.)

　

I don't read.

I'm not proud of this. In fact I'm a little ashamed to admit it. But I very rarely read fiction.

I used to. I started reading as soon as I could hold a book, and by the age of six or seven I was correcting adults on their pronunciation of words that were bigger than I was. By the time I was 13, I'd read almost every book in my age range the library had to offer, and after that I read some funny murder mysteries with my mom and competed to see who could solve it first.

I don't know what changed. A lot of things I guess. I got busier, my ADHD got worse, depression kicked in. All I know is all of a sudden I'm 26 and I can't remember the last time I held an actual book. I've read a little Shakespeare and HG Wells online, a paragraph here or there between emails, but I don't lose hours engrossed in pages like I used to.

I don't even go inside the library anymore. I use their website to borrow movies, and I stay in the van while my mom goes in. And I feel bad for that. Shouldn't a writer read?

One day a few months ago, when the library was closed, I went downstairs with my mom to help her find a book in our building's community room. I found a bright yellow book with a cat on the cover. It looked like a mystery with cats, one of my mother's favorite genres, and I pointed it out. She read the inside cover, said, "Talking space cats. You want it?"

I did want it. It was Catacombs, by Anne McCaffrey and Elizabeth Ann Scarborough. I think I read it (and Catalyst, the other book in the series) in about a day. And then I didn't read again until this week.

I'm trying to find time for it, because I love it so much, but I think the sheer volume of possible books intimidates me. I don't know which ones to read, so I don't read any. I'm starting with the winners and nominees of the Hugo award. It's a limited amount, I know they're my favorite genres, and... and a writer ought to read, shouldn't they?

More (Hopefully) Amusing Mistakes

Going through my file of mistakes that made me laugh is not an extremely productive use of my time, but it sure is fun. Here are a few more.

　

(Oh, and the ebook of Circuits & Slippers is on sale this weekend for only 99 cents! That's around 5 cents a story!)

　

This feeling of hope momentarily fluttered in her soul before dying a sudden and tragic death when the heavy double doors of the cafeteria opened with a loud, gunshot-like clang. (Many things in this world go "clang." Guns are not one of them.)

"You know that bumper sticker that says 'Friends help you move; real friends help you move bodies'? Well," Vanessa said cheerfully, "I think I may have developed a test to see how good of a kitty you are." (But she isn't a kitty!)

"I could lick it or keep it." (Or the real phrase, Take it or leave it.)

I went into a dead flop of limpness.

"So you ned a job," Ned said thoughtfully (Ned often talks about himself.)

I didn’t want to live in a VAN down by the RIVER, but yelling at me and breaking my ccooffee table wasn’t exactly the best way to motivate me. (this is the part of the story where my characters started randomly quoting Chris Farley sketches. I'm not joking.)

I screamed like a little girl again and flew down the hill like a thing that flies quickly.

That made perfect sense now that I understtood it

sheep lambs (To differentiate them from cow lambs, I presume?)

Amusing Writing Mistakes

I believe I promised to post some funny mistakes I've made during writing, and since I'm still busy writing a page every time I use the computer (haven't missed one yet!), this will make for a quick and easy post.

Some of these happened because I was writing too fast (or, during Nanowrimo, trying to catch up to the day's wordcount), others because autocorrect wanted to help, and some are the result of my brain just spitting out the completely wrong word at the wrong time. My favorites are when I try to do a metaphor and forget where I was going halfway through the sentence.


he stared deadly at the man

Nohing in life is to be feared; it is to be understood. Now is the time to fear more so that we may fear less.

A looming shadow loomed

At this point I felt the dramatic conclusion would be to profess my love for him and kiss him like married people do. (this is why I don't write romance.)

This claim hit me like a sack of bricks thrown by a proficient thrower of brick sacks

The field lay strewn with dozens of dead little goats which had once been live little goats full of little goat dreams. Now they were little more than rutabagas in waiting. (I couldn't think of the word "fertilizer," so I wrote "rutabagas" instead.)

I bent down to examine the body of a caramel-colored mare or doe or... goat bitch. To be honest, I grew up on a corn farm, so there wasn't really any male/female terminology involved there. It was a lady goat with two lady goat boobies, and that was good enough for me.

I struck my most authoritative pose and flashed my badger. (I meant "badge.")

She set the body on a sliding thing and slid him into the freezer like a Flintstone push-up pop (I really don't know how a coroner's office works.)

It was a cool day in November. Except in December. I was right the first time; it was November.

I wanted so badly to open my eyes closed

if there had been a silence, I wouldn't have been able to hear it

Nanowrimo

Nanowrimo is a yearly challenge to write 50,000 words during November, or about 1,667 words a day.

The past four years, I've done just that. And it's fun. The end result is nowhere near a finished or polished novel, and more often than not the act of writing quickly results in a lot of - sometimes hilarious - typos and plot holes (Sometime I'll go through my document of mistakes and post some here. Off the top of my head, last year I had a character claim the best way to kill a zombie was to throw a turtle at it, because I put a turtle in the scene and couldn't think of a reason for him to be there).

I'm not doing Nanowrimo this year.

In the past, it fit perfectly well with my ADHD brain that didn't care if the plot changed halfway through because I'm never getting published and it doesn't matter and depression and anxiety and boredom! But now I like taking my time to actually plot and get to know the characters. I know Nanowrimo helps a lot of people with their first draft, but I only end up with an amusing mess that I never want to edit.

I'm missing the craziness of it, but I'm still challenging myself. Every time I get on the computer, I have to write one page. Novel, short story, doesn't matter.

It's day 7. So far, so good. I don't know exactly how many pages I've written (and just to clarify, what I'm calling a page is one screen on Wordpad, 11 point font, single spaced). But I've written 3 short stories, 2 of them are actually pretty good and one that needs work, and worked on my novels (Yes, plural. I love to multitask).

On busy days, I don't need to worry that I'm not meeting the same wordcount as on days where I'm home all day. (Although in the past two days, I've written a 3,000 word story so I probably am getting around 1,667 a day. But it isn't nearly as stressful.)

So. That's what I'm doing this month. Yay.

(I really need to get better at ending posts. :D Maybe I need a tagline or a catchphrase or something.)