~~in my beginning is my end~~

heist - n. the green-eyed girl behind the counter, trading your name and money for a bouquet of proseys and wishes
-- v. to give and take with either hand, to hold the pen, to type the word, to beg to borrow to steal (but only with permission)

You've seen me and you don't even know it. I sat across from you on a train, or made your coffee, or tripped over the cracks on your city's sidewalks. I told you about the book you can't put down, lent you my turquoise pen, drew a picture of a dancing star on your receipt, smiled at your nephew.

I told you the story you needed to hear, and we both grew better in the telling.

~~a raid on the inarticulate~~

My brain doesn't work right. I mention this because it has been observed that I am predisposed to inconsistency, unreliability, to vanishing and reappearing like a poor magician's stage trick. This is not intentional. That which giveth taketh away at times, and in exchange for hearing color and feeling sound and riding out words on the page I have spent an inordinate amount of time hiding my self from the terrible terrible tricks my mind plays on me. Sometimes it's better, sometimes it's worse. Right now, I'm better. That can change. I will attempt to forewarn the next time.

~~there is only the trying~~

I tell stories. I breathe stories. I live with stories marching, singing, driving and demanding, from one side of my head to the other. Sometimes, I write them down and show them daylight.

This is my practice, my constant attempts to hone my skills to a keener edge, to carve a sharp place in someone's fond heart. Not everything I work at is a derivative of someone else's art, but my writing life is compartmentalized of necessity. I've seen what happens when intrepid writers of fanfiction make the transition to the world of the printed and bound, and it's messy and often ugly. If/when that happens to me, we will try to staunch the blood loss, won't we?

~~unweave, unwind, unravel~~

At any given point, I have something in the works. Right now, I've got The Other 11,001 Things to Be Miserable About, a semi-epic fiction, well underway. I've no intentions of abandoning it, and right now it looks like the final product will sit somewhere between fifteen and twenty chapters.

I'm periodically poking at expanding and revising The King, At Nightfall, an offering from one of the Labyrinth Exchanges on LiveJournal. It's an exploration of time, love, loss, and the revision of reality. I don't know how long it's going to be, but for sheer complexity it's the most involved thing I may have ever worked on. Believe me, that's saying something.

For the future, I've got a number of things I'd like to work on. I'm entertaining the idea of a Tom Riddle character study, and a Dramione story of unlove and a terrible crime. I also want to at some point look back on the first fanfiction I ever posted here on FF, Under the Gun, revise, and finish. It would be a point of pride, as I was quite going somewhere with that. We shall see.

~~the end is where we start from~~

heist - n. the green-eyed girl behind the counter, trading your wishes for stories, for beginnings, for dreams, for something new
-- v. to ask, to answer, to grant a once upon a time, to say they all lived happily ever after...