Reading. Why I love and hate it.

As I believe I have made clear before, I was a hyperlexic child. That is, my command of the English level was not merely years but almost a whole decade ahead of where it should be, and remained such until mid to late adolescence, when others began to finally catch up.

A Soldier In A Strange Land, Part Three

Author’s note: Following is the third and final part of a new story that I started as an experiment and began to enjoy writing so much that I simply forgot to stop. You can read the first part here, and the second part here. Not much to tell in terms of things necessary to understand it. Unless you have not read the previous parts, in which case, go and do so now.

Without further ado…

A Soldier In A Strange Land, Part Two

Author’s note: Following is the second part of a new story that I started as an experiment and began to enjoy writing so much that I simply forgot to stop. You can read the first part here. It was whilst writing this story that I discovered I had also laid excellent groundwork to explain how Falathen comes to decide she has lived long enough.

Further to the above, one of the rules of my canon is that whilst Elves live indefinitely, the experience of seeing almost entirely the same stuff over and over for hundreds or even thousands of years has demonstrable effects on their health. Although I have not demonstrated it well in this story, Queen Falathien has a reputation amongst other rulers as being one step short of barking mad. Such is the price of being ~20,000 years old.

A Soldier In A Strange Land, Part One

Author’s note: Following is the first part of a new story that I started as an experiment and began to enjoy writing so much that I simply forgot to stop. During the most recent unpleasant episode of my life, the same conundrum as in others came to mind. How do we look to those looking at us?

All one needs to bear in mind is that this story is set around the same time as A Dream Linula Had (I really should think up a better title for that one). Probably during one of the holiday breaks in her first year of tertiary schooling.

More about writing. Specifically, the role of inspiration.

In my previous post, I set out to talk about how real, physical problems in my day to day world were placing a huge burden upon my ability to write, even in this journal. Yes, I know how that sounds, given that I have been churning out words in this journal at a rate that even Stephen King might be impressed by. But I will level with you here: the flow of ideas to mind and the flow of words from fingers to text file suffers terribly when the mind is suffering any form of discomfort.

Writing is hard. Especially when…

If you have been reading my most recent posts, you may, very likely have developed an impression that I am not physically, emotionally, or just generally, well. You would be correct in this impression. Yet day in and day out, I persist in writing like I have never written before in this journal and elsewhere.

My name is… and I play WOW *far* too much

They say that when you are doing something so much that it interferes with your other activities in life, the relationship you have with that activity may well be unhealthy. It might even be an addiction. In that spirit, I would like to talk about the videogame known as World Of Warcraft.