Author: The Velvet Zebra

Yo-ho, Yo-ho, a Pirate’s Life for Me

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down

Of the big write they called ‘Tea Debacle’

The write, it is said, never gives up her dead

When the days of November end early

With a load of word counts many thousand times more

Than the Great Tea Debacle weighed empty.

That good book and true was a bone to be chewed

When the Teas of November came early.

The tea was the pride of Castle Debacle side

Coming back from some blog in Wisconsin

As the big contests go, it was bigger than most

With a crew and three captains well seasoned

Concluding some words with a bunch of plot turns

When they left fully writing till winter.

And later that night when the ship’s bell rang

Could it be the new breeze they’d been teasin’?

The words in the wires made a tattle-tale sound

And the graph she broke over the railing

And every one knew, as the captains did too,

T’was the witch of Debacle come stealin’.

The dawn came late and The End had to wait

When the Castle Debacle came slashin’.

When December came they were bloggin’ in rain

In the face of the befuddled crewmen.

When January came, the old cook came on deck sayin’.

Fellas, it’s too rough to plug in.

At the dawn of New Year a main hatchway caved in, he said

Fellas, it’s been good t’read ya

The captains wired in they had writers come in

And the good ship and crew was in peril.

And later that night with PC lights outta sight

Came the wreck of the Good SS Penman.

Does any one know where the love of Plot goes

When the PC’s turn pages to labor?

The readers all say they’d have made Shipwreck Bay

If they’d fifty more pages behind her.

They might just cramp up or they might write it down;

May end up tearing paper to pieces.

And all that remains are the words and the names

Of the novels and plots and teas steeping.

The Debacle rolls, and the good writer sings

In the rooms of her hand-written mansion.

Old Castle she steeps like a young man’s tea dreams;

The PCs are keyboards for sportsmen.

And farther below our new Castle you’ll know

Takes in what the word counts will send her,

And the roller balls go as the writers all know

With the Teas of November remembered.

In a musty old hall Castle minions they prayed,

In the Penmanship Writer’s new Castle.

The church bell chimed and rang out word-count lines

For each man on the good SS Penman.

The legend lives on from the Debacle on down

Of the big ship they call ‘SS Penman’.

The Debacle, they said, never gives up her dead

When the Teas of November come early!

Now is the Winter of our Incontinence

Now is the winter of our incontinence

Made glorious tragedy by this last 5 days of Debacle;

And all the despairs that lour’d upon our nerves

In the deep bosom of our Depends buried.

Now are our brows bound with sweat and worry;

Our bruised fingers cramped up for keystrokes;

Our panicked cries changed to meager weeping,

Our hopes and dreams to dreadful wails.

Grim-visaged competition hath creased our wrinkled brows;

And now, instead of mounting tea kettle to stove

To praise the souls of feverish novelizations,

We whimper quietly in the pot of our chamber

To the mournful teasing of a loon.

But I, that am well shaped for sportive tricks,

And self-banned from the AW looking-glass;

 I, that am steadfastly writing forward, for want of victory’s majesty

To type in the face of a wanton ambling novel;

I, that am curtail’d of this word count proportion,

Cheated of tea by dissembling nature,

Deformed, unfinish’d, sent before The End

Into this breathing novel, scarce half completed,

And that so lamely and unreadable

That dogs laugh at me as I write by them;

Why, I, in this weak piping tea of Debacle,

Have found delight to pass away the word count,

And have managed to spy my glory in the sun

And improve upon my past deformity:

And therefore, since I cannot prove a winner,

To entertain these fair well-written days,

I am determined to prove a victory

And rejoice in the idle pleasures of these days.

Plots have I laid, storytellings dangerous,

By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,

To set my novel on high, like a king

In fierce devotion to my newfound rage:

And if the Debacle be as true and just

As I am subtle, genuine and learned,

This day should the Debacle highly be held up,

As a prophecy, which shall hold fast

For evermore disciplined the writer shall be.

Write, thoughts, down to The End: here

Castle Debacle comes.

The Day After

I hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving – even you, Cath, you crazy foriegner you! 😀  It was a day to look back at our lives and give thanks for all the things we cherish, all the things that make our lives what they are.  It’s also a time to cherish the people in our lives – our families and friends. Even our pets, and the security of our homes and dreaded day jobs!

I’m thankful for a plethora of things that a lot of people don’t even understand, except all of you will.  I’m Thankful for having found AW – even if it gives me fits and I have to run from it screaming now and again 😀  I’m Thankful for all the wonderful friends I’ve made there, and for the courage and information I discovered that has propelled me to finally take my own writing seriously.  I’m Thankful for having learned what is real about publishing, and for having never found the underbelly (PA) before learning the truth first.

<>I’m thankful for The Great Tea Debacle and what is coming from it – what it has done for my discipline and the production of novels I fully intend to take advantage of thanks to it.  And for another tidbit you all will learn of come December :D<>

<>I’ve never written so religeously before. Never taken WRITE DAILY that seriously until now.  And I had completely forgotten about my Happy Place. Where I can sit for hours and watch the words flow from me with gleeful writerly abandon.  I have The Great Tea Debacle to thank for that. I have Pete and Lori to thank for that.

And I’m a Happpy Writer who’s ever so very Thankful for it all.  And that’s as mushy as I’ll get, because I have to go WRITE!

I’m in love!

So my sister takes me out pen shopping on Saturday, right after the pair of us went to a rock show and spent loads on slabs – but that’s another story. Anyhoodle, after buying slabs, we went for coffee and a snack so I wouldn’t have low blood sugar and do one of my famous flip-outs when I get low blood sugar, wherein I get tired, grumpy, angry, toss a fit and go home empty handed.

<> So after Starbucks,  we head to Staples, only to find they have no  good pens that you can try before you buy.  So we leave there and drive to Office Depot (no, our town has no fun stationary pen store)  Well they had lovely pens and when I asked to try some out, the nice lady brought us a pad of paper, unlocked the case, and we had at it !

Boy did we have at it. I tried them all.  Thin ones, thick ones, rollers, gels, everything they had.  I knwe the pen had to be thick, but I was finding some of them hard to hold. The thin ones were right out. But there was this one that was perfect – thick barrel, but also thick at the end, where my fingers held on – and that made all the difference in the world !  Suddenly I could relax my hand and watch the pen flow over the paper.

It’s a roller ball, too, so that helped.  And it’s lovely.  In fact, there it is:

newpen.jpg

Ain’t she purdy?  I’m going to practice with it in December. Lori calls it George.  Then, in January, I’m going to put it to GOOD use.

You’ll all see soon enough.

Soon enough, my pretties 😀

Testing 1 2 3

Yes, this is a test post, and since Blogger isn’t working right today, I’m using this to post my handwriting sample. I hope. If I can do this right.

 So lemme see . . . this would be a sample of my handwriting when I’m trying very hard to be legible. Below that is my sister’s writing (yes, I went blank on how to spell whether and she merely followed what I wrote) but she wasn’t even trying. She was half asleep on the couch, watching TV thinking about going to bed, and I shoved this notebook under her nose and told her to write what I wrote – then quickly explained why.

 When she DOES try, it’s friggin’ gorgeous.  I hate her.

 sample.jpg

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