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My Guilty Pleasures
I feel like the answer to this should be something like the huge wedge of toffee apple wensleydale I've polished off throughout the course of today, and although I wasn't really enjoying it towards the end there, and although I certainly could stand to take more care with what I eat -- I feel like feeling guilty about food is the start of a huge, awful rollercoaster that you can never get off and benefits no-one but the people who stand to profit from making women feel like shit.
So, I ate a huge wedge of cheese today, it was delicious, and it's not like I'm going to eat another one tomorrow. So, whatever.
I could also feel bad about drinking if I so chose. I could certainly feel bad about Saturday night, where I drank enough to spend all of Sunday laid up with the sort a hangover that just got worse throughout the day - I think it was my body's way of reminding me that I'm not twenty-five anymore.
When asked if I had gone out on the piss for Hogmanay, I replied: of course not, I'm old now, I can't go places or do things the way I once could.
So I drank more than I meant to, I spent more than I meant to - I'll say this for liking a dram of single malt, it does rather price you out of problem drinking; also, whoever suggested that I might enjoy caol ila, I did, very much - and I had a bitch of a hangover the next day. But even the hangover served its purpose as I woke up just long enough to watch all the aired episodes of Agent Carter. I have never really been charmed by any part of the MCU; in fact, I take a childish pride in how singularly uncharmed I am, but I am utterly besotted by Agent Carter.
My regrets over drinking tend to be more financial than otherwise, and although I'd be lying if I said I didn't like a drink, I don't make a habit of going overboard - so, again, no guilt.
People talk about guilty pleasures in relation to music a lot, but one of the things I like most about being in my thirties now is that I have aged out of music snobbery, and hey it turns out that enjoying a bit of Taylor Swift isn't going to get my rock chick credentials revoked.
If we're talking about guilty pleasures as in things I actually feel guilty about, then, fictional lesbians and the things I will do for them.
Guys, the terrible, terrible shows I have watched on the promise of canon femslash.
Recently, this has worked out well for me with the Carmilla webseries and the Legend of Korra, which I thought were both excellent. On the other hand, I have watched all of Faking It even though I have to watch it with one eye closed and squinting through the other because it stomps on every embarrassment squick I possess. I have never watched an entire episode of Glee (a good decision, I feel) however I do watch those cuts with just the Brittany/Santana scenes, including this latest one - I am not proud of myself for this.
Best writing advice - your own or somebody else's
My own advice would be useless, not least because I haven't written a word since, jeepers, September. Which, not coincidentally was when I got the puppy. She chews everything, everything. I'd have no sooner opened the laptop than she'd be gnawing on the wires. And because she's such a fuzzy little weapon of mass destruction she already has to be in a crate overnight and when I'm out, so I'm loathe to put her in when I'm home unless it's absolutely necessary.
Happily she is now, not well behaved, no, but bright enough not to chew forbidden things when I'm actually in the room with her. So hopefully writing can resume soon.
When I am writing I'm a very linear writer. I can't skip around from scene to scene. Which means if I get stuck, I'm stuck, and if I don't get unstuck quickly I get frustrated, then bored, and the story gets abandoned. Gosh, I'm practically a puppy myself...
So some advice I have found very useful is this: when you get stuck, write a string of swear words in block capital letters (so that you remember to come back and fix it later) and carry on from the next bit where you know what happens. And at least in my head it creates the illusion of an unbroken narrative.
Like so: blah, blah, blah, oh, god this is the bit where I don't know what happens.
FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. BALLS.
Next scene I know, blah, blah, blah.
I wish I could remember whose advice it is, because I have found it very useful.
I feel like the answer to this should be something like the huge wedge of toffee apple wensleydale I've polished off throughout the course of today, and although I wasn't really enjoying it towards the end there, and although I certainly could stand to take more care with what I eat -- I feel like feeling guilty about food is the start of a huge, awful rollercoaster that you can never get off and benefits no-one but the people who stand to profit from making women feel like shit.
So, I ate a huge wedge of cheese today, it was delicious, and it's not like I'm going to eat another one tomorrow. So, whatever.
I could also feel bad about drinking if I so chose. I could certainly feel bad about Saturday night, where I drank enough to spend all of Sunday laid up with the sort a hangover that just got worse throughout the day - I think it was my body's way of reminding me that I'm not twenty-five anymore.
When asked if I had gone out on the piss for Hogmanay, I replied: of course not, I'm old now, I can't go places or do things the way I once could.
So I drank more than I meant to, I spent more than I meant to - I'll say this for liking a dram of single malt, it does rather price you out of problem drinking; also, whoever suggested that I might enjoy caol ila, I did, very much - and I had a bitch of a hangover the next day. But even the hangover served its purpose as I woke up just long enough to watch all the aired episodes of Agent Carter. I have never really been charmed by any part of the MCU; in fact, I take a childish pride in how singularly uncharmed I am, but I am utterly besotted by Agent Carter.
My regrets over drinking tend to be more financial than otherwise, and although I'd be lying if I said I didn't like a drink, I don't make a habit of going overboard - so, again, no guilt.
People talk about guilty pleasures in relation to music a lot, but one of the things I like most about being in my thirties now is that I have aged out of music snobbery, and hey it turns out that enjoying a bit of Taylor Swift isn't going to get my rock chick credentials revoked.
If we're talking about guilty pleasures as in things I actually feel guilty about, then, fictional lesbians and the things I will do for them.
Guys, the terrible, terrible shows I have watched on the promise of canon femslash.
Recently, this has worked out well for me with the Carmilla webseries and the Legend of Korra, which I thought were both excellent. On the other hand, I have watched all of Faking It even though I have to watch it with one eye closed and squinting through the other because it stomps on every embarrassment squick I possess. I have never watched an entire episode of Glee (a good decision, I feel) however I do watch those cuts with just the Brittany/Santana scenes, including this latest one - I am not proud of myself for this.
Best writing advice - your own or somebody else's
My own advice would be useless, not least because I haven't written a word since, jeepers, September. Which, not coincidentally was when I got the puppy. She chews everything, everything. I'd have no sooner opened the laptop than she'd be gnawing on the wires. And because she's such a fuzzy little weapon of mass destruction she already has to be in a crate overnight and when I'm out, so I'm loathe to put her in when I'm home unless it's absolutely necessary.
Happily she is now, not well behaved, no, but bright enough not to chew forbidden things when I'm actually in the room with her. So hopefully writing can resume soon.
When I am writing I'm a very linear writer. I can't skip around from scene to scene. Which means if I get stuck, I'm stuck, and if I don't get unstuck quickly I get frustrated, then bored, and the story gets abandoned. Gosh, I'm practically a puppy myself...
So some advice I have found very useful is this: when you get stuck, write a string of swear words in block capital letters (so that you remember to come back and fix it later) and carry on from the next bit where you know what happens. And at least in my head it creates the illusion of an unbroken narrative.
Like so: blah, blah, blah, oh, god this is the bit where I don't know what happens.
FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. BALLS.
Next scene I know, blah, blah, blah.
I wish I could remember whose advice it is, because I have found it very useful.