Yay, an ezine with an older short story of mine (i'm on year 2 of writer's block) just came out today:
http://thescrambler.com/eng/issues/issue-46-june-2011/robin-crane/
Robin
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sleepyhead
Phew, that is a long blog nap I've been taking since the new year started. While I've been asleep I've turned 32 and gotten a couple new cavities. I'll started blogging again soon. I plan to post good old Sweetheart Issue #6 up here tonight or tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Sick of Sitting ‘Round
“I’m dying for some action/I’m sick of sitting ‘round here trying to write this book” – the boss
Blaaaaaah. Blah blah blah! Hell damn shit! Fuck! Stupid! Bunny! Puppy! Kitties! Lalalalalala! Okay I got that out of my system.
My grandpa moans in his sleep (well actually it’s up for debate whether he’s actually asleep or just sleepy when he says his trademark lament) “I’m old, I’m fat, I’m tired,” in a huge loud voice, practically every night, and if I were only a tiny bit less considerate, I would be bellowing this at night too these days. I have the post-Holiday doldrums in a big way. What I would like to do as a cure for these bore-blues is to start writing a third novel, a really long one this time, maybe even historical fiction (that’d be so cool! I’d really get to use my intelligence and my interest in history), but I have such writer’s block. It’s moved on to imagination block; I usually fantasize little stories all day long, like little scenarios of me telling someone off or someone interviewing me for a book on riot grrrl or something, silly little things like that, and I’m not even imagining those little things anymore, I’m just re-running and pondering recently watching film plots, etc. And I’m at least trying to read a lot of good writing to get me into a writing mindframe. I just finished reading an AMAZING book called The Colour by a British woman named Rose Tremaine, it’s really a strikingly well written book with a plot that doesn’t resemble anything I’ve ever read before. And now I’m reading Moby Dick and a book of short stories by Raymond Chandler. Still! No!! Inspiration!!! I’d like to go with Geof to Paris and to small towns in Ireland but that’s not really in the cards right now, but something like that would be so exciting. And I’d like a dog and a cat and a rabbit and a vegetable garden and a house and a literary agent and a million dollars and a best friendship with Bill Murray. Oh yeah and I wish Harry Potter and Griffendore were real. What was I saying? Oh right. Hell damn shit. Bunnies….Kitties…bored….don’t deserve a blog…. Xxoox princess robin
Blaaaaaah. Blah blah blah! Hell damn shit! Fuck! Stupid! Bunny! Puppy! Kitties! Lalalalalala! Okay I got that out of my system.
My grandpa moans in his sleep (well actually it’s up for debate whether he’s actually asleep or just sleepy when he says his trademark lament) “I’m old, I’m fat, I’m tired,” in a huge loud voice, practically every night, and if I were only a tiny bit less considerate, I would be bellowing this at night too these days. I have the post-Holiday doldrums in a big way. What I would like to do as a cure for these bore-blues is to start writing a third novel, a really long one this time, maybe even historical fiction (that’d be so cool! I’d really get to use my intelligence and my interest in history), but I have such writer’s block. It’s moved on to imagination block; I usually fantasize little stories all day long, like little scenarios of me telling someone off or someone interviewing me for a book on riot grrrl or something, silly little things like that, and I’m not even imagining those little things anymore, I’m just re-running and pondering recently watching film plots, etc. And I’m at least trying to read a lot of good writing to get me into a writing mindframe. I just finished reading an AMAZING book called The Colour by a British woman named Rose Tremaine, it’s really a strikingly well written book with a plot that doesn’t resemble anything I’ve ever read before. And now I’m reading Moby Dick and a book of short stories by Raymond Chandler. Still! No!! Inspiration!!! I’d like to go with Geof to Paris and to small towns in Ireland but that’s not really in the cards right now, but something like that would be so exciting. And I’d like a dog and a cat and a rabbit and a vegetable garden and a house and a literary agent and a million dollars and a best friendship with Bill Murray. Oh yeah and I wish Harry Potter and Griffendore were real. What was I saying? Oh right. Hell damn shit. Bunnies….Kitties…bored….don’t deserve a blog…. Xxoox princess robin
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