creative

Why “Limited Edition” Video Game Stuff Sucks

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These days, video game consoles are well renowned, recognizable, and in a crap ton of homes across the globe. Chances are good you have at least one in your house, if not two. My husband and I have a nice collection of various consoles that are sometimes in duplicate, like our Wiis, or triplicate, in the case of our PS2s, since we each had one before we got married, and now they sit on the shelves and hang out together.

Most titles created these days span platforms, meaning that they are accessible for all systems, from console to handheld to PC. Getting a game for your system is easier than ever, too. You go to the store, check out the section for whichever console you’re trying to get the title on, and voila, you buy that baby and bring it on home. There are, of course, titles that are limited to one system, but I mean hell, I just finished playing the new Tomb Raider on my 360 a couple months ago. I have my original Playstation copies of some of the older games and even a bundle of EVERY Tomb Raider game that I got on Steam when it was on sale—

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Oh, how the wallet groans at the mere mention of a Steam sale.

 —which means that I have digital and physical copies of the same games across four different consoles. In the not too distant past, such a thing would have been absolutely preposterous. When a game had its run, it ran for ONE console, one developer, and if you didn’t have that system, you better hope to hell your rich kid friend’s dad bought it for Christmas just so you could watch it get played, because you got socks and a sweater, mister.

Video games are prolific these days… So why do developers bother with limited edition runs?

The first part of course, is easy to answer: Cha-ching, baby.

Like any human with a predilection for collecting anything, video game collectors want to believe the hoard we’re amassing is important and holds value, even if we never plan on selling any of it. Limited edition runs appeals to us on those levels, certainly, because hey, we’ve got something that they only sold 500 copies of and you don’t, and we don’t have a problem paying the cushy price!

One of the games infamous for this very thing is a little title called Earthbound for the SNES.

EarthBound_Box

For those of you who don’t immediately recognize it, this series introduced the character Ness that you’re not planning on using in Super Smash Bros. but want to unlock anyway.

Earthbound’s run was pretty limited in the US at first because Americans didn’t really care for it. A couple different things like bad marketing and lack of interest in the ‘simple’ graphics were blamed for its poor reception, so America only ended up selling about half as many copies as Japan did of the same title.

America… always complaining… this is why we didn’t get Super Mario Bros. 2: The Lost Levels, and got Doki Doki Panic instead, guys.

Later on, everyone turned around and basically said, “We love Earthbound!” and then bought the pixelated graphics out of it on the Nintendo Wii Virtual Console.

“But,” you’re probably asking, “what does this have to do with limited edition?”

Good question, astute reader! You know how America only sold half as many original cartridge copies of the game? Guess how much they go for now that it has critical acclaim?

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Free shipping? I’m sold!

That, my friend, is a copy sold by Nintendo itself, and that’s not smudge on your screen. You’ll see that used versions are selling for less, but its still a pretty hefty price tag for a 21 year old game. That’s right guys, if that game were a person, it could totally buy alcohol. Feel old yet?

That particular limited run was an accident, because I guess people were pickier about their pixels then, but limited it is, and expensive as all get out because of it.

Now, a limited run isn’t always a shite situation… sometimes getting that edition is really great because it honestly adds to the game you’re purchasing.

Skyrim’s legendary edition had that amazing dragon sculpture, and Mass Effect 3 had a nifty lithograph and N7 patch that came with it, and in general, people who play the games love the art books and maps and other goods that come with such a purchase. Limited edition stuff makes it special, and we like special. I still display my N7 patch on my bookshelf, as a matter of fact, and I proudly have a limited edition Skyrim poster and at least four maps from the Elder Scroll games displayed in frames. What could be so wrong with that then?

The second part is also easy to answer and is remarkably similar to the first: Cha-ching, baby!

There was (probably) once a time when people bought limited edition goods because they genuinely enjoyed what came in said bundle. These days, the Internet has changed that perspective, however, and buying limited edition has gone from genuine buyers to a grotesquely large group of scalpers who purchase multiple copies of the items just to sell them at higher prices online. They have no intention of playing, enjoying, or gifting them—it all goes immediately online at sometimes double or triple the original price, just so that the people who actually want the item but couldn’t a) get it in time, or b) afford it during its run are screwed over and forced to pay exorbitant prices to scalpers who have no love of the items they’re selling. This doesn’t just affect video games, of course, but they do suffer from it quite a bit.

Recently, Nintendo (yeah, we’re back at you, buddy, even though I love you) released a series of figures for the Wii U called Amiibos. These were plastic Nintendo characters similar to Disney Infinity or Skylanders.

The problem?

Apart from there being confusion over where to buy certain characters or when they were being released, they also immediately started discontinuing certain characters–that’s right, discontinuing them all together. This, of course, caused a run on every store that sold the Amiibos, sending scalpers and collectors alike into a frenzy. Keep in mind that the Wii U itself is about $250-$300 and the games are $60. There was barely any time between the release of the new Super Smash Bros. game before you had to immediately dash back out and spend $12.99 apiece on figures if you didn’t want to miss out on them before they went bye-bye.

Scalpers, on the other hand, ate that shit up. Now, if you go and look online, you’ll see some Amiibos are as high as $45.

This is a constant problem, destroying true fans’ opportunities to get the goods they’re after and giving money to a bunch of asshats on Amazon and eBay who make more selling that stuff per figure than the company that made them did.

Does this mean the limited edition item should die before it wears out its fans? Nah, not really. It does mean that companies are going to have to get tougher on making certain that limited runs reach a wider variety of people in a bit larger numbers, but it could be a while (or never) before that happens. Companies probably aren’t going to be interested in policing the releases more than they have to, because hey, first and foremost, they want to make certain that their product sells, and those d-bag scalpers are definitely buying them up. It’s not like they’re purposely screwing over fans… just creating the scenario that allows their fans to be screwed over, and then letting it happen.

And scalpers? Pssht. Just… just do me a favor, people, and don’t purchase from them.

Oh, and to the creepy old dude at Walmart buying the hell out of those Amiibos to sell online? Eff you.

It’s not like I–I mean some kid wanted them for Christmas… or something…

Devil

Poetry

I’m like an urging in your blood
A rush of speed inside your head
And you’ll never win against it,
We’ll just decide when we’re both dead

I’m a beast inside your soul
A fiendish frenzy through your veins
A smile to cause your heart break,
With the hands to soothe the pain

Intrigue and delight,
A source of wonder and chagrin,
Remember dear, remember!
That I’m the devil you let in.

And remember that you chose
To love the animal in me
A vicarious atonement
for the pain you’ll always need

And father bless the wicked
But let the innocents prevail
Amidst your journey through the fire
And the sins that you exhale

Smile because you want it
(Cry because you’ll never win)
And if you’re saddened, just remember:

I’m the devil you let in,
Yeah, I’m the devil you let in…

Minimum wage? More Like Slave Labor

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On the Internet, you find a lot of people willing to spew hatred. It’s just a fact. Whether it’s an honest opinion or general trolling, you typically run into a bunch of people who are simply willing to go out of their way to put you down because

*GASP*

You disagreed with them.

The Internet has always been the home of porn addicts and compulsive spenders, but now thanks to social media, you have an outlet for people who say stupid crap when they’re by themselves to go online and say stupid crap for hundreds and hundreds of thousands to see.

Every. Day.

The problem with this is that, as a whole, the people who are willing to spew these kind of violent outbursts of righteous anger with their noses so high in the air they can’t even see the keyboard are almost always speaking purely from an opinionated point of view… or at least one that is purely decorated with other people’s voices who share the exact same opinion.

(If you get all of your news from a single channel and don’t change your mind about a topic when facts and evidence are presented in the contrary, you are not as well-rounded as you think.)

It’s like a crazy farm. For crazy people. Only, every single one of them thinks that they’re right. I was on Facebook when I came across this gem in my newsfeed:

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This lady, we’ll call her “J”… well, she starts off pretty strong. From the get-go, we know it’s a rant. That in and of itself is not bad. People rant on social media all the time, and it’s become a fairly accepted pastime for most people. Bad day at work? School? You’re sick? Post it to social media! I mean, hell, this blog is basically a giant tribute to my opinion, so clearly, the rant is something that I’m not only familiar with, but chill with pretty frequently.

By the first sentence, I already knew that I was in for a bad time. It’s one of those things that you can just tell by the vibe before you even read it. Someone’s about to blast you with an opinion, and you just. can’t. look. away. It’s like the friggin’ Ark in Raiders. You know it’s gonna be filled with bad shit, and you can either face it or close your eyes and pretend it’s not there.

J starts off immediately by demeaning fast food workers. Immediately. It was almost as if she had been personally offended by a McDonald’s employee who DARED to ask for more money. Was this a personal vendetta? Did she go to said restaurant only to be turned away by a picket line? Who knows? What we do know is that J is really, really, pissed at Johnny Fry-Boy, Baconator (That one’s not so creative, J), and Sally McBurgerFlipper. She is righteously indignant that a fast food worker would request a pay increase to a decent living wage.

I mean, I have no idea how someone could get so angry over someone asking for more when they don’t have enough…. Oh wait.

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Not pictured: J standing off screen yelling at him.

Apparently, if a fast food worker was paid the same amount as someone in the military, it somehow lessens the amount of pay for said soldier. J’s got a bone to pick with those poor employees, and she’s not afraid to show it. Given her utter horror at the idea, and her in-depth knowledge of pay scales in the military, I’d venture a guess that J is married to a soldier and isn’t happy about the money. I can understand that. I actually have a few friends in the military, and I know that things can get tight trying to support their families. I know that there is the issue of them not being paid, being given less than they’re worth, and generally being screwed over if the government is wearing their “Dunce” caps that day (Hint: they are ALWAYS wearing them).

I get it, J. I totally understand that you are angry over the poor pay of men who are willing to sacrifice their lives for us and be apart from their families for long periods of time. I get that it’s unfair, but that’s why all minimum wage should change. Attacking a fast food worker who wants more isn’t the answer.

Dealing all of your fury against people who not only make up a large portion of our economy but also fill necessary jobs so you can feed your kids when you don’t feel like making dinner before a ball game is not going to help. Your rage is misplaced. You should be angry at the government: not at Johnny, Baconator, and Sally. They’re doing their jobs, just like anyone else. They might be putting themselves through school. Did you think of that? They might be trying to pay some increasingly high student debts so they can get a better job. They might be teens trying to work part-time, or even older people who can’t retire because they can’t live on social security. Designed for kids in high school? Honey, this is 2014. I see 60 year olds at Walmart and Subway and Burger King all the time. We have an increasingly pinched middle class and we’re recovering from a recession and the highest unemployment rates since the Great Depression.

I think you need to redefine “jobs for high schoolers” because I can even name some people with fantastic degrees working in retail, in grocery stores, customer service, and yes, even fast food. Do they want to do those jobs? No, I’m sure they don’t. But they need to work to eat, and they deserve to be able to live on the wages that they’ve worked so hard for.

Never mind that a large portion of our fast food workers are on food stamps to support their families. Never mind that they are continually thought of as the scum of the earth, regardless of the fact that McDonald’s sells billions of burgers to people just like J. Never mind that they are given ridiculous tasks and can’t go over on their hours. Or that they are frequently victims of wage theft and being forced to work off the clock or threatened with termination. Never mind that they are people who are trying to support themselves on $7.25 an hour when the burgers that they are “flipping” almost cost more than they make.

Yeah J. You have clearly done your research on this topic.

Settle

Poetry

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she was dressed in black

when they finally took her pulse

and she was bleeding out this sorrow
from the blank spots in her pores

and they promised that tomorrow,
that tomorrow’s gonna come,

but her eyes are set on somewhere deep,
and past the setting sun.

She knows she’ll never shake it,
that sort of crying in her eyes,
and she can feel her body dying
but she knows that it’s not time,

but they said that in the end when
all the sadness is all gone,
that someone’s gonna be there

and they swear they’ll guide her home.

yesterday’s a mystery, but no more than today,
and there’s a solitude in silence

and a heart in disarray,

and she finally finished sewing that one outfit
for the one

who she hopes is gonna be there when her dyin’ is all done

and this one is the story that she’s never gonna tell,
and this one is scraped up knee that bled each time she fell,
and this one is that speck of tear inside of each her eyes,
and this one is the face that she would use for a disguise.

she knows she’ll never fake it,
that sort of dying in her eyes,

  and she’s always sort of bruised
and battered down from time to time,

and by now she knows the ending,
(she’s pretty sure her story’s done,)

so she’s finally gonna’ walk alone
into the setting sun.

Mus(e)ic?

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It’s hard to get your muse in gear and actually get your work done by and by. Whether that work is writing or anything else in life that requires even a modicum of attention and energy, there are times when procrastination is key and my best friend and keeper. I know that I sometimes procrastinate without reason, even if the only one I’m disappointing is myself and a perhaps overly large pile of laundry that I’ve meant to fold and/or hang up for like, three days now.

Ahem.

During my writing, editing, or basically anytime I’m in front of the computer, you can guarantee one of two things. One, I will have a word document open in the potential that I will get writing done, and two, that I will have music playing. Doesn’t matter what music, unless I’m in a routine obsession with a particular song—you know, the ones that you play over and over until you’re sick of them?

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They literally almost couldn’t fit all of the 80s in there into this picture. 

Pandora will be coasting through everything from classical music to dubstep like my own personal tunage fairy that constantly batters me with ads. (PAY for music? Please, Internet. I grew up in the Napster and Limewire era, friend.)

While I absolutely love listening to music as I work, I know that the wrong music can be utterly devastating to writing. For instance, sometimes it’s impossible to be able to write while a song with lyrics that you know plays. I have occasionally found myself typing the words to the songs, completely oblivious that I’m doing so until it’s too late and I’ve lost my original train of thought.

I once attended a school for graphic design before switching my degree to creative writing, and I had a lovely Russian art teacher for a semester whose job it was to teach some kids who had no formal training how to draw still-lifes and use shadowing and that weird thumb-and-pencil thing to measure objects that I never quite got around to perfecting. (Or using… ever.) To this day, whenever I pick up the pencil to sketch anything, I still hear her voice in my head telling me to “Drah sroo za shape.” She was very keen on using music to stimulate creativity while drawing, and was a fan of techno beats and discotheque European music. Occasionally, we heard a cool song or two, but what I remember her for most was when she’d forget to change a library from repeating one song to repeating them all, and so we’d hear that self-same wub-wub house music song for about two hours of our four hour long class before she’d realize it was repeating and change it. By the end of two hours of Eastern European techno, you’re about ready to shoot yourself in the head to make it stop. Needless to say, some days were more productive than others.

It’s kind of a given that things that are catchy and upbeat have a tendency to capture the attention, and I definitely can’t write a sad scene to happy music, or vice versa. I find my own moods often mirror my character’s scenario as I think, and there’s no way that I can write a sad scene listening to a tune that makes me smile.

Ever try to kill someone to pop music? Can’t be done.

Believe_Tour_13,_2012

There are of course, always exceptions.

If only that grimace was early-onset cardiac arrest.

Music is a strange creation in that it has the ability to regulate our moods and flood our brains as we speak or try to communicate. It’s pretty unique in that it can be both inspiring and ungodly awful with only the difference of maybe a few notes between your favorites and least favorites. Used properly, it does in fact stimulate the brain to work more creatively, or throw you into mind-numbing bouts of self-depression… (Especially if that music is country).

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Look, she didn’t get rich on a long lasting, healthy and fulfilling relationship, is all I’m saying, okay?

Super Bowl-Sh*t

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I am not normally one to watch football and don’t watch any of the matches through the rest of the year, so it doesn’t matter to me which colored jersey wins, ya dig?

(My sister-in-law and brother-in-law and I just so happened to choose the winning side to root for, which was a psychic bonus, I suppose.)

That being said, as a family, we all sit down and watch the Super Bowl, and so I had a chance to spy the infamous ads which would later cause such an online flummox.

At any rate, watching the commercials during the breaks, I wasn’t ‘blown away’ by any, and some even made me smile a bit. I mean, I don’t even drink Budweiser, but I love their Clydesdale commercials—who doesn’t love puppies and horses?!

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 …I digress.

Never once did it occur to me that two ads would have made such an outrageous impact for ALL of the wrong reasons.

Now, I watched both of these ads. I watched them with my whole family, and none of us saw anything wrong with them. We just watched them and moved on, but the Internet was already abuzz with misplaced rage.

Why? Because in this day and age, ignorance can’t be contained. It must be spread online, typically over social media forums that allow for people to spew their idiot vomit in 140 characters or less.

So, in lieu of simply calling people on their backwoods bullshit, let’s break down all of the fun reasons that people who found these commercials offensive are racist, bigoted morons!

Coca Cola has people singing “America the Beautiful” in languages other than English.

1. “I didn’t like people singing the national anthem in another language.”

If you have made it to an age where you can go out into the world and type with any kind of clarity into social media a slightly literate sentence about your opinion… you should at least be able to understand that if you’re going to open your mouth about something, you should have some facts to back it up.

a)    America the Beautiful is NOT our national anthem. Our national anthem is The Star Spangled Banner.

b)   This song was written by Katherine Lee Bates (*gasp*, a WOMAN?!) who was also a lesbian (Double gasp!). She left the Republican party in 1924 over growing xenophobia.

c)    Xenophobia: the intense or irrational dislike and fear of people from other countries (sound familiar?)

2. “This is Uh-meri-cuh. We speak ENGLISH here.”

a)    America has no official national language. This is because we are a melting pot… Think of the Statue of Liberty’s inscription. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses…” The inscription didn’t say, “Give me people who speak American English and nothing else.”

b)   We have plenty of U.S. citizens (legit citizens, okay?) who speak a language other than English, but are still American. It happens, since, you know, immigration from other countries.

c)    American English is a hard language to learn, but you know what? Some foreign countries actually assign it as a language in their classrooms. There are foreigners all over the world who have mastered the English language better than a good portion of Americans in America.

d)   How many people in America can easily discern the difference between:

It’s and Its;

Two, To, and Too

Your and You’re

They’re, Their, and There

Where and We’re

Write and Right

EnglishGrammar

Believe it or not, this is foreign language to some Americans…

Cheerios shows an interracial couple with a child.

a)    Welcome to America, where your birthplace doesn’t matter, but the color of your skin does? If you can’t get it through your skull that people are people, and we’re all pink and meaty on the inside regardless of our exteriors, then you really should go back to high school biology class and retake that segment, because clearly, you missed a huge plot twist.

b)   People evolved and adapted over many years to develop different pigmentation in their skin based on their environments and what they required in order to survive. Us extra white white people lived in regions where it was cold, we didn’t stay in the sun all day, and in a lot of places, it snowed. Therefore, we developed lighter skin, because nature decided that was what we needed. The good portion of people with darker skin lived in hotter climates, where their darker skin protected them from a harsher sun, and ensured that they wouldn’t stick out like… well, like a white person on the Savannah.

c)    Science, bitches.

d)   Because we are able to migrate all over the world today, and people of any racial orientation can move wherever they want, there are tons of people from different places everywhere.

e)    Sometimes, those people fall in love with someone who doesn’t look like them. Imagine if there was a fallout because blonde people were marrying brunettes instead of other blondes. See how silly that is? Now apply that ideal to skin color. It’s pretty lame, isn’t it?

Before this totally blows your mind, I assure you, there is no rule where someone of one race can’t fall in love with someone of another race. Our parts all work the same in the end, and again, if you can’t figure out that we’re all just people, you should probably go and learn that so you can understand how someone could have a baby from such a union.

(Hint: It’s the regular way since they’re no different from you)

I would really love for people to stop letting hate-mongering idiots dictate their views.

Let’s drop that racist ‘Murica! mentality for 2014, okay?

The Apple Store is Like a Partial Journey Through One of the Circles of Hell

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Recently, I had the brilliant idea to update my Macbook Pro from Mountain Lion (which I had literally just gotten used to) to Mavericks, because a) It was free, b) It was free, c) It was supposed to be an improvement, and d) Did I mention that I love free shit?!?!

What followed was a catastrophic series of events that I am still not entirely certain I’ve escaped from… it’s like my computer is a repair junkie and I just got it back from the shop and I’m waiting to see if it’s going to relapse on me.

The coming signs of the apocalypse:

1. If you update your computer and suddenly get weird, black checkerboard markings behind windows, it’s not supposed to be there.

2. If your Safari ‘Recent History’ page on a new tab looks like it was taken over by the static from the ghosts on Poltergeist, you guessed it! It’s not supposed to be there.

3. If your Macbook starts lagging, freezing, or displaying the tendencies of the old Windows computer you decommissioned and sold to buy the laptop, it seems like you are probably on the road to a terrible, terrible place that I like to call:

 THE APPLE STORE

Have you ever walked into a room where you instantly felt that you didn’t belong? Got that icy, miserable, shooting feeling that someone who thought they were better than you was staring real hard at the back of your neck? Then you, my friend, know what the atmosphere in an Apple store feels like.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I have never encountered someone who works for the Apple store who is douchey to me. This is ENTIRELY reserved for people who come in there to buy superfluous accessories, overpriced machinery, or take classes on how to use said items. There are a couple of things about the Apple store, however, that lend themselves to creating this atmosphere and even intensifying it over time so that you’re either found unworthy to remain and are expelled from the premises posthaste, OR…

You become that loathsome individual who glares at me at the Genius bar because I took the seat next to you, even though it was empty and you’re alone.

Jerk.

At any rate, be prepared for the hailstorm of sub-zero glares and people annoyed that they have to wait and let you go first, even though you arrived a full ten minutes ahead of your reservation time.

As I said, there are certain factors that go into Apple store set-ups that lead to confusion, irritation, and self-righteousness in their customers. In the particular store that I frequent (multiple times, recently), it is a single, large room that extends to the back where a Genius Bar rests. Along the sides are computers, some displays, and thousands, and thousands* of people.

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 *May not actually contain thousands of people.

When you walk in the door, the first thing that happens is one of two things: You will either glide by, completely ignored, shuffling your way past the dozens of Apple denizens clogging the single entrance and escape, or, you will be accosted by both the Apple workers, and the angry, searing faces of customers. Likely, both.

In either case, the first person to greet you has an iPad in his/her hand. They will ask you what they can do to help you with.

“Ah,” you think, surprised at the genteel and pleasant greeting, “a person who can help me at the door, and not send me into the fray of swirling, tangled madness that lies a few feet away. Mayhap they can even allow me to complete my quest here, rather than tread into that mire?” … Or, maybe not, because you don’t speak with an Old English accent.

“I’m here for an appointment at the Genius Bar,” you might say, if you’re me, since you were there for that. The worker turns, his eyes large, his face unsmiling. He points a long finger into the dark, bubbling cauldron of insanity.

“Three tables hence, you will find a man or a woman who doth carry a green-plated iPad… this person will start you on your quest, but hark! Many others seek to do the same.”

“Uh… okay. Weird,” you say, even though you don’t think to judge the fact that you were just speaking that way a moment ago. Also, you may ignore that you’re being a giant, Old English-y hypocrite.

You push through the perilous pathway to find the person with the green iPad, only to realize that they are SURROUNDED on ALL SIDES by sour-faced people who are there for the same reason that you are, and there is no way to attract attention to yourself without doing something illegal or stupid. You could scream and jump up and down, but likely, they’d just mistake you for one of the many children in there already doing the same.

So you wait. You watch dozens of people cut the queue and jump in front of you, but you can’t do anything because you aren’t even sure where it starts, or who came after you. Finally, you reach the person with the iPad. He holds up a finger and signals you to wait, which is unbearable, because at any moment one of the vultures on the sidelines is waiting for a weak point to jump in and attract his attention. Finally, he looks up at you with a sad smile.

You explain why you’re there, over the din of the surrounding mosh pit, and then he checks your name off of the tablet after you spell it for him five times and finally just point it out yourself. Then, comes the third leg of the journey. He lifts his arm, and you can feel your heart dropping into your stomach. He points his finger, and sends you to the back. Alllllllll the bloody way to the back toward the Genius Bar, which is the very heart of the insanity in the store. You nod to yourself, suck up your trembling chin, and march.

The Genius Bar. There are four wizards toiling, but there are twenty peasants sucking up air around them. Screaming. Wailing, Gnashing their teeth over the broken and misfiring bits of electronic machine. But where do you go? You know that you must choose wisely or risk losing your tentative position in the order.

Don’t sit by the training tables, you’ll get passed over and someone will yell at you for taking a stool. Don’t hover over someone’s shoulder. Don’t stand at the wall, they won’t know you’re there. You have to act, quick! Like a hawk, the first seat you see, snatch it. Doesn’t matter that there are twelve people gunning for that same coveted seat. Don’t mind that you can feel their eyes cursing you—run for it!

You wait twenty minutes for your reservation, even though it’s fifteen minutes past when you were supposed to be seen. You quietly, sadly watch the wizards’ faces while they march past, hoping to be the lucky one that gets chosen next. Finally, they descend to you. Angels sing. Clouds part. The light pours through the heavens. You have the attention of someone who can help! Oh lucky day! Explain the problem, leave your computer, and count down the days until your return. Brave the madness one more time, only to get your computer home and realize it’s still messing up.

Shake your fists to the sky, curse, and scream, and know that you will have to do it all again. Your journey was for naught.

The conclusion of this sad tale: Don’t be a dick to me in the Apple Store.

Be considerate of others who have to share the same space as you. The store is tiny and you’re only making me hate you making it harder for people to do what they need to do.

…And also EVERYONE WITH AN iPAD IN THE APPLE STORE SHOULD BE ABLE TO CHECK PEOPLE IN, I MEAN IS IT THAT HARD? WTF?! YOU’RE MAKING PANDEMONIUM—YOU’RE PLAYING WITH PEOPLE’S LIVES, MAN!

NaNoWriMo hangovers, anyone?

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I’ve been AWOL for a bit because I’ve been swamped with other writing and editing work, which is a good thing, and an insane undertaking at the same time.

When November started, I actually had this crazy idea in mind to take a break from novel writing for a while, because, well, I worked on my two fantasy novels an awful lot, and dammit if I didn’t want a break. So what did I end up doing?

If you guessed that I completely ignored the opportunity to take a rest from writing by writing at a more furious pace than ever, then… wow, you know me pretty well.

And for the record, get out of my head.

I decided on day 5 that I was going to take a crack at NaNoWriMo, because hey, I had a book idea, and two, “Why not?” It was only after the ridiculously grueling pace for myself cut in that I realized I had written my 50,000 word quota by the 23rd of November, thus making myself slightly more insane than usual, and even squirrely-er than ever.

(Do other people not hiss when daylight hits their eyes?)

After getting myself to 60,000 words by the end of November, I know that I am dying to take a break from it all. How did everyone else fare? Did you get your word count, or close to?

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I’m hoping to have this latest book, The Death of Narcissus finished within maybe two months, and then I’ll start trying to get that beastie pared down and beefed up, dependent on whatever it needs. This is a rush job, so I’m not going to kid myself… it’s GOING to need some work. 

(And of course I’ll have a sneak preview for you guys later on!)

In the meantime, I’ve also recently gotten the opportunity to apply to be an editor for a publishing house, which is very exciting stuff. The opportunity came just a day or so after I received my diploma in the mail, which seemed like a pretty life-choice affirming coincidence, if you ask me. Between my writing, editing, and the work I’m doing in the industry, I’m hoping that my big payoff is going to come any day now. I could use a vacation… maybe go to a tropical island paradise to… I don’t know. Read and write, probably.

That’s the only way we bookworms know how to enjoy ourselves, apparently.

Word Goal Update

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Don’t think I’ve forgotten to update you as to my status on my 20k word goal! I have simply been too busy to get anything up the past couple of days.

Now, in case you’re wondering, of my final goal, I reached… drumroll please…

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Eighty-six thousand out of ninety thousand!!! And we’re not going to talk about the other 1000+ words that irritated me enough to delete them in a caffeine-fueled rage. (Or the extra 2500 words I wrote into my first book.)

While it may not have been my total goal, I feel justified in saying that I don’t feel like I failed. I have been super busy with my job, my internship, handling my other book, and attending no less than three family get-togethers in the last month.

(Trust me, that’s more social interaction than I usually get.)

I also recently got the sequel to a book that I am absolutely in love with, which means that I spent a large amount of time just reading.  For those who don’t know about John Dies at the End, or it’s sequel, This Book is Full of Spiders; Seriously, Dude, Don’t Touch It by David Wong, you’re missing out on two amazing books which I would be totally more than happy to shove in your face and rub all around and hope that you could absorb words through osmosis. If you can’t, you should feel lucky that you got intimately assaulted by a crazy fan-girl with a fantastic book.

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It’s a win-win either way, really.

Given that November is the month for NaNoWriMo, I know that many of you are getting out your pens and word processors and getting ready to fire up the ole’ noggin for a 50,000 word count. That’s impressive, and I don’t envy you the task of pulling that one out of your arse. I will not be doing NaNoWriMo this year, although my writing goal for the month will be to finish my second book, so it will most likely be another 10k more words and some additions to back story.

After cleaning up the final copy of my first book, The Moon God’s Curse to send out to readers and agents, I have had a couple of epiphanies in situations to correct in the second book, and so I’m going to take the opportunity to do that while they’re still fresh. See? Not feeling the failure when I have so many ideas swirlin’ around.

I know that some of you are aware that this little gem came recently:

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Which I’m totally digging so far. There is a section in there that lists a HUGE amount of agents and publishers, and I spent HOURS digging through there and compiling a list of twenty-four agencies to contact for representation.

Today happens to be the day that I’m going to gather my materials for round one of my queries, so hopefully lady luck will be on my side, and perhaps my Maneki Neko will be able to catch something in that little good luck paw of his.

Happy writing!