Shippy Goodness, part the first

Ever since I decided that embracing my inner fangirl is actually good for the creative process, life has been a lot easier. Give me a couple with chemistry and a story will form around them -- then it, and they, will pick up stakes and tromp off to some other century, leaving me no choice but to follow behind, furiously scribbling notes. Of course they'll pick up other influences, discard a few points of source canon along the way, and when all is said and done, there's something entirely unique and new that comes out of it. Since I tend to blog more when I have a theme to follow, let's go with that.

Today's entry is the newest pairing to tickle my fancy, a bit different from the usual, but that's what makes it interesting. Barney and Robin from How I Met Your Mother. Romance readers will spot a soon-to-be-reformed rake, I do believe. Whether you've had the pleasure of meeting them before or not, here are a few gems I've stumbled across on YouTube. None of them mine, so credit where credit is due.



one to feed my angstbunny:


and for our neighbors to the north, some Sandcastles in the Sand, eh?

Ever have one of those days when things don't seem to gel? One where an accurate account of how the day's productivity *felt* might read "smashed head against brick wall until one or the other caved in. Cannot tell difference at this point?" Where the cat gives you the "aren't you forgetting something" look, then sits as patiently as a cat can next to the empty cat food dish? Where you know there's this "writing" thing you're supposed to be able to do, but darned if you can remember how? Umm, yeah. That was mine.

We start out those days with great intentions, don't we? Morning caffiene of choice, settle in front of computer chair, and make great plans for double digit pages...and then before we know it, it's time for the other family members to come home, and darned if we aren't exactly where we started the day, page-count-wise? Easy to get distracted, fed up, mad at ourselves and ready to wonder why we're chasing these imaginary people in our head and trying to persuade them to see things our way.

The issue of "the muse" may come into play at times like these, and I'll say up front that I fired mine years ago. The lazy wench always showed up late, if at all, and usually wanted to lie on the couch and channel surf. Work, for her, was sooooo (insert teenage girl eyeroll here) pedestrian. Which is really what got her fired, but she was right, in a way, with her pedestrian comment, though not in the way she thought.

Let's look at "pedestrian" in the sense of "one who walks" instead of "boring." For one to walk, that's one foot in front of the other, over and over until we reach our goal. When we walk, in the physical sense, there are any number of things that can trip us or make us stumble. Uneven ground or floor, the wrong footwear, weather, distraction, health, of the physical or mental variety, traffic, etc. Think on the places you've walked today, even if only from the bedroom to bathroom. Odds are you've probably stumbled at least once.

Even with a stumble, a skid, even an outright trip and fall, if you're at your computer, I bet one thing happened; you got up. That same foot that placed wrong once did as it should one more time, one more after that, after that, after that and so on.

Same thing goes for writing. Okay, today was not productive for page count. I did, however, fix the borked internet browser, so I once again have a working tool for my communication and research (and downloading of Sims2 content.) I scanned some favorite family photos to send to relatives who haven't seen them yet, and proved that yes, I did install the new printer correctly. I made contacts for our RWA chapter's next semester of online workshops. I cleaned out a good deal of my backlogged email. I did feed the kitty. Hmm, that looks...productive. Not exactly where I'd hoped to be at the end of the day, but y'know, that's what they make tomorrow for. I get another opportunity tomorrow morning, and I'm looking forward to that. As I'm fond of saying to others and need to remind myself, it's not how many times we fall down that matters; it's how many times we rise.