Don't Tell Mom - I've Gone British

It's a sad confession that I find myself bored with America, or American television rather. So I'm moving my sights across the pond, if you'll pardon the expression. No. Don't try and stop me. No mention of tired forensics dramas and misplaced science fiction will draw me back, no matter how fresh it pretends to be.

I now live on BBC America and spend my time shuffling through every DVD and clip of Doctor Who, The Friday (Sunday) Night Project, Primeval - ok, so just look up the schedule and pick a show. I've downloaded the soundtracks and watched the fanvids on YouTube. I've researched the accents and phraseology. Let's face it - I'm halfway to begging a dual citizenship! I told you it was sad.

In all reality, there are still a few shows created in my homeland that I adore. I can still sit through a marathon of Law and Order. Boston Legal frequently intrigues me. And if I could do nothing all day but revel in the morality tales that are episodes of Star Trek, I surely would. But I think I've drained the tap of brilliance in America - on to the country where, apparently, every thing is brilliant!

It Was the Aliens!

I kid. My computer said bye-bye a few months ago and a found myself sans Internet connection. It was a strange sort of torture. I suspect a government conspiracy. I'm back and up to my old tricks and sinister ways. Writing, blogging, gaming, and looking for that weird entertainment news I love so much. My new poll is all about finding said news. Help a gal out, if you get the chance.

My Poor, Naked Fingers

That's right. The gloves are off. I'm coming at my writing with the grizzly, Winston Churchill version of criticism. You haven't seen this much self-loathing since (well, pick and episode of Dawson's Creek where Jen did something stupid.)

No, it's nothing new. I've always been my worst critic, which I consider a perfectly healthy attitude, within reason. Unfortunately, I'm looking for Wilde and Poe and only seeing...me. Honesty is necessary, no? When does a role model become an obstacle to fresh creation, and when does that consideration become arrogance? There's a heady ball of wax. An interesting woman once said, "I paint for me. If others don't appreciate it, that's their business, as long as they keep it to themselves." We're related. ;)

Ways to "Winston Churchill" Your Writing:

1. Give it the Grammar Nazi treatment. Run it through every grammar checking software you can find. Have a friend proofread all of your work. Heck, call up your high school English teacher and have them give it a once over. And when they're done, call your college professor. Don't stop until you've beaten every ounce of bad grammar from those naughty written works! (Sorry, I get excited.) Perfection is highly noticeable.

2. Let a pro look at it. I have the blessing of knowing a few professionals who are willing to lend me an eye to improving my work. If you don't have that outlet, try writers' conventions. There's usually a group of professional writers on hand for the specific purpose of helping amateurs improve their craft.

3. Question everything. Go through all of your writing over and over again. Use every thing you know and hunt for the things you don't, then apply that knowledge to every line of prose and poetry. You'll probably find yourself making improvements (however minor) every time. Remember, perfection is highly noticeable.

Do your creations please you? Do they please others? And does that matter? Tell Marphlets all about it.

The Poodle Hair Behind the Pen

I grew up in Texas. Not Hillbilly Texas. Not Adios Texas. No, I grew up in Wear-Your-$500-Pumps-With-Your-Cowboy-Hat-At-The-Opera Texas. That's right, I said Houston. A suburb of Houston, actually. Before that there was a tiny military town and another town that I still can't find on any map.

My school years were full of the uneventful fits in private school that you've seen in bad 80's teen flicks. College was also mundane. . .wait. I think I met my husband there. Yep, that's about it.

So here I am. No, my hair's not naturally curly, and no, I didn't perm it. I slept in curlers like any thoroughly trailer-park cliche.

Enjoy.