Raven kings and tarot cards

Today Maggie Stiefvater posted about The Raven King and gave me all kinds of a need to reread the books again. I'm trying to stay away from rereading at the moment, since I have so many new books to catch up on. Just this weekend, I bought The Art of Asking by Amanda Palmer, The Rook by Daniel O'Malley, and The Ruby Circle by Richelle Mead. I've had my eye on The Rook for ages - like three years or so - and I figured it was time to suck it up and take a look. I've also been toying around with The Art of Asking for a while, and well, The Ruby Circle just came out. And I have to find out what happens to Adrien and Sydney.

So no Raven boys for me right now. Maybe over Trin Days, or Spring Break.

However, I was inspired by Maggie Stiefvater this semester to create my own tarot deck based on my thesis a.k.a. TA, as the project for my Concepts and Processes class. After doing a bunch of sketches, I've finally done the first two cards: The Lovers, and Strength. I will post them at some point maybe.

I've been steadily working on TA, with lots of help from my advisor in the form of creating a timeline and summary. I never thought I'd find it useful, but it's actually one of the things that's propelling me forward right now.

The snow is still here. It was a balmy 4C today and we were all wondering why we were so warm. Makes me wish it would get a little warmer still.

More snow and terror

I am sick. With mono. Ugh.

I was feeling really tired during the first couple of weeks back at Trinity in an unusual, past-the-jetlag kind of way, even though I was getting nine hours of sleep, so I went to the health centre. A blood test and week later, I got a call from one of the nurses. Yes, it's mono. Quit your physical classes, and sleep lots. No alcohol for four weeks.

Le sigh.

Of course this is all past the add/drop period, so this past week has been a medley of emails to all my professors, a meeting with the Dean of Students, and trying to withdraw from ice skating. But it's done, and I'm more or less sorted. This could also be way, way worse. My roommate got mono last year and at one point she had to go to hospital to have throat abscesses drained, which sounds not at all fun.

Anyway. We've still got a ton of snow - in fact, we're due some more tomorrow! And Wednesday! It's really pretty from the inside, and every weekend feels like a special snow day, which helps to keep me productive.

On the terror front, I'm still working out what I want to do and where I want to live, as well as figuring out who will actually employ me. I wish I had some hardcore advice about what to do (art school? France? Publishing?), but I guess I'm more or less on my own for this one. Trying very hard not to think about that.

On a slightly cheerier note, I'm still working on TA, and I'm on track for my first draft deadline. It's been tricky trying to balance it with all of my other work, but I think I'm getting the hang of it.

So much snow! (and terror)

SPRING SEMESTER SENIOR YEAR.

Man, there is so much terror in that. I'm trying very hard not to think about it, while still applying for jobs, internships, etc. etc. Mostly, what I'm doing is going, "LOOK AT ALL THE GLORIOUS OPPORTUNITIES - I MUST HAVE THEM ALLLLLL", which is not really that productive. I'm trying to keep my options as open as possible, though, since I don't really know where I want to be next year.

We've had at least a blizzard per week since I've got back to uni. It has been beautiful and glorious, and I'm really hoping that my French professor will cancel class this morning. It's not that I don't like her class... but I'm not a fan of Mondays.

In other news - I finished The Mime Order by Samantha Shannon! I enjoyed it immensely. It was everything I wanted in a sequel and more, and while I was not as crazy about the first book, I wholeheartedly recommend the series as a whole. I am very much looking forward to the next one.

Anyway, back on track with TA. It's actually my senior thesis right now, so... yeah. Scary stuff. Right now, I'm aiming for a first draft by 31st March, and I think it's doable. This semester, I've deliberately made my schedule as easy as possible to focus on my thesis. So far, it's working.

Finals week aka the week of DOOM

Ugh, finals week.

It knocks you out and crushes you flat, and still somehow I'm twitching on, like a pesky spider THAT JUST WON'T DIE. Still, it's given me a chance to reflect back on this semester and how it's gone.

It's been happier, I think. I've felt more productive in my classes, particularly in my senior workshop. I've really enjoyed writing genre fiction in class (le gasp) and everyone has been great fun to work with. Even though I'm frustrated with my own work, it's interesting to see how everyone's developed.

Some days I've been on the struggle bus more than others. But I keep going because you know, what else am I going to do? I can always choose to put down the pen. It is the easier choice, in some ways. But it is so much more fulfilling to keep at it, no matter how exhausting it gets some days.

I've just gotta keep twitching on.

Is this thing on?

So I've been away for a while... like half a year.

I know. I said I wasn't going to do this.

But at the beginning of the summer, my computer died, and I lost about 20,000 words of various projects, including TA. Which, as you might imagine, set me back a little. Although I tinkered around a bit, I didn't really start anything until September, by which time college had started, etc. and I got busy.

Anyway, I'm back now!

Catching up

I haven't been on for ages, so I thought I'd give some updates.

1) I've started training for Tough Mudder.

Currently, I'm jogging like a very old person, but I'll get better at it, for sure. It's actually sort of nice to wake up early and head to the gym; I feel like I'm accomplishing something. Once I get home, I'll be running around the park behind my house.

2) Finals are here!

Ha… haha. *sweats nervously*

No, I'm kidding. The workload is light this semester, and I'm much more comfortable with what I'm expected to do than I have been in the past. I want to try and finish as much of my work this weekend so I can spend the rest of my time here basking in sunlight and reading.

3) I've resumed work on TA.

This is something I've wrestled with in my head more than on paper in the last month or so, but I've finally plucked up the courage to delve back in. I'm revising and making changes to the beginning of my story so I can move forward. I hope to have a draft done by the end of the summer so that I can hand it to my critique partners. There are definitely a lot of other stories on the mental coffee table, but some of them are still percolating, and I know how important it is to finish creative work.

Anyway, that's it for me now. After finals, expect to hear more from me.

The Reveur

         Once a month, I risk my life for reveurite. It is the most pliable metal of the dreamscape, infinite in its uses but deadly to shape. Like an acid, it corrodes leather, clothing, skin. The only mine is on an island impossible to reach, unless you know the way. In a tower at its peak I wait for the moon’s apex, when reveurite falls from the stardusted ether. My hammer and tongs rest on the workspace, handles towards me where I can reach them. Moonlight comes in from a narrow port at the top of the tower.

         Three minutes to midnight, I begin my preparations. With a silver dagger, I slice my palm open and scatter my blood across the worktable as a baker does with flour. I pick up the hammer, weigh it in the palm of my hand, and give an experimental swing. The furnace on my left is swelteringly hot. Exactly three minutes later, the reveurite falls like a lead weight sent by the gods. It lands through the port onto the workspace in a viscous smear.

         I work rapidly, wrestling it into the shape I need, though it slips and slithers under the tongs. This is a battle of willpower more than anything else. I command the reveurite to shift form, to line the mould that I have prepared. Grasping the tongs with both hands, I shove it into the furnace where it screams. Before the night is over, I will shed more blood in an attempt to fix its shape. It must be perfect.

            An hour later, I put down my tongs and hammer. My hands are shaking, either from blood loss or fatigue, and I wipe them on my trousers. There are small craters in the workspace that will need to be filled and the wood that supplies the furnace must be restocked. But the work is done. A small box sits in front of me, whalebone in appearance only. Three engraved dragons cross each other at the centre of the lid, topaz eyes glinting in the darkness. Foxgloves dance along the sides. It doesn’t have to look this way – it can be wood, or glass, or even cardboard for all the difference it would make – but a craftsman always takes pride in their work, and furthermore, she will appreciate the effort. My orphan creation. With haste – because there is not much time left, not now – I open the lid and place the letter within. This is the only way to guarantee its arrival, no matter the circumstances, and it is imperative that it reaches the shores of the living. To her.

          If I could I would linger, but dawn is grasping at the horizon, so I take the box from the middle of the workspace and depart. For a few more minutes the island exists, hanging precariously on the edge between one life and another, until the moon fades and the ocean swallows it whole.

This story was made possible through the writing prompt at terribleminds.com.