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Favorite References

I’ve been thinking about some of my favorite reference books this week. Since I’ve moved into a new apartment (yay me!), I’m in the process of reassembling and sorting my personal library. This includes, of course, my reference shelf.

I’ve got a handful of standards that I always have available. My dictionary and thesaurus are chief among these. Every once in a while, though, a specific project demands something unique. Currently, I’m borrowing The Empire of Death from V. When you’re working on a story about a village of coffin makers and gravediggers, such a thing is an indispensable aid. Additionally, I’ve recently acquired copies of 45 Master Characters and The Writer’s Guide to Character Traits, both of which are great fun when developing well-rounded characters.

Other times, I have to rely on the suggestions of others to track down new ideas. I found an article today in which several famous authors talked about their favorite reference books. Both Cassandra Clare and Neil Gaiman had the same choice, Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. This meant that I had to leave my desk at work and journey downstairs to the print reference collection to track down a copy. Ours is a few years out of date, but I’m planning to purchase a more recent copy for personal use.

Some of the best references are available online, and I strive to make use of them as well. One of the latest is the Digital Public Library of America, a bold project to freely share access to a wealth of information. I also love TV Tropes, but it will ruin your life. Seriously.

What about you, dear readers? Any favorite books/sites that you use frequently? Let me know.

Rainy Days

“I know,” he whispered.
“I wanted to kiss you
In it. But there will be
Other rainy days.”

Shifting Gears

Dear readers, a few days ago I let you know that there were going to be some big changes ahead. Well, that’s definitely true. I’ve gotten an apartment with a friend of mine, and so I’m going to be out in the real world again, though I’m definitely going through girlfriend withdrawals right now. It’s amazing how quickly you miss someone after spending so much time with them on a daily basis. I get to spend the weekend with her, since my birthday’s coming up, though.

Anyway, I plan to have more writing coming soon, and updates from the new apartment. Sometimes you just have to jump at an opportunity and see what follows. This is one of those times. It should result in a bit of a boost in productivity, so there will be laughing! And mirth! And also ass-grabbing!

The Librarian: Trifecta Challenge

For this week’s Trifextra challenge, we were prompted to write the origin of a superhero in thirty-three words. I debated doing someone from my favorite comic book series, but then I remembered I had this little thing floating around in my drafts folder, so you get someone original-ish. Enjoy.

The Librarian:

Raised in secret in the catacombs beneath our nation’s capital. Trained from birth in the ways of those who have always walked in silence. He is the peerless warrior of words. The Librarian.

 

 

 

 

Blackout Poetry

Last month (actually just last week) we invited teens at our library to take part in creating blackout poetry. We provided pages from books that were due to be recycled and encouraged teens to leave only the words they wanted to be read. This led to some really brilliant pieces of art, and so I decided to craft my own as well. Enjoy!

One recycled book page + One Sharpie = Genius!

One recycled book page + One Sharpie = Genius!

May Day

It’s May 1st, and I woke up to a beautiful Colorado snowfall.

And one very confused robin

And one very confused robin…

I’m pleased by this, believe it or not, and not just because I like winter. You see, usually a morning like this would make me want to climb back into bed, shut off my phone, and sleep the day away while I was still nice and warm. Today, though, something’s different.

Stay tuned.

Gravity

Today’s post is a poem I wrote a few years ago, originally for a poetry slam. I consider it the single best piece I wrote during my college career, and so I thought that National Poetry Month was the perfect time to share it with my current audience. This is “Gravity.”

Gravity is a bitch, but I let her have her way with me anyway.

She tries to keep me in bed every morning. I guess she likes

To keep me down, constantly. I’ve known since she first gave me her number

That it would be like this (it’s 6.67×1011, by the way—Somehow I’m

Feeling like she hasn’t been getting those texts I’ve been trying to

Send to her). I think it’s a doomed relationship, but she’ll never let me go.

I don’t even remember how long it’s been since I met her. I think I’ve

Known deep down that we’ll never be apart for long.

I suppose that her embrace is comforting.

Being too far from it can be disorienting. It’s a strange sensation.

Like I’m weightless—nothing without her touch.

It’s been a very strange relationship.

She said that she likes long walks on the beach,

But every time we’ve tried to go,

The tides come in. I don’t know what that’s all about.

She says it’s all relative.

I’m a nerd, and she knows it, but she still stays.

Some part of me hopes that she always will.

I think I’d probably fly off hurtling into space

If she ever left. It would be the breakup felt

By everyone around the world,

Even the people who don’t know me.

They’d all feel it. They’d all know.

What would they do if they found

Out? If they knew that I was the one who’d

Pushed her away? I think that they’d find

Me fairly repulsive. Yet somehow, I doubt

That they’d be in any position to do anything

About it at that point.

So I stay in this loveless relationship,

More out of the convenience of it than

Anything. It’s better for all of us that

Way, isn’t it? I mean, despite my feelings,

The attraction is oddly irresistible.

I’ll always be hers. It’s almost a crushing

Feeling of inevitability. Oh well. I’m stuck with her.

 

Gravity.

 

 

 

That bitch.

Do You Still Dream?

“Do you still dream?”

“I thought that I was dreaming now.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I suppose I do.”

“Do dream, or do know?”

“Either.”

“What do you dream about?”

“When I remember?”

“Yeah, when you remember.”

“Do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to tell you what I think you want to hear?”

“Both.”

“I dream about you.”

“Really?”

“Really. Not like sex or anything. We’re just together. Spending time with each other.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I had a dream about a week ago with you. We spent an afternoon just lying on our backs in a field.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“Yeah, sunshine and everything. It was beautiful.”

“Sounds like it.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you still dream?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“As rarely as possible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean I really don’t like thinking about you all that much anymore.”

“…”

“No, I…not that…”

“Then what?”

“I just…it hurts too much to think about you anymore.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah…I mean, it was good and all.”

“You don’t have to say that. I should be apologizing.”

“Yeah, you probably should, but I don’t expect you to.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, I mean, I’m just trying to be honest with you.”

“I know.”

Ecstasy

This was written in response to the most recent Trifecta challenge. Here’s “Ecstasy.”

 

She had begged him to go to the cavern, to gain the experience for himself. Now he sat alone, waiting for the process to begin. Crispin closed his eyes and felt the vapors wash over him, enveloping his skin and pouring into his mind. The ecstasy would be upon him soon, the tremors in his legs, his fingers, his arms. Bracing himself against one wall of the cavern, he collapsed in a fetal ball and the visions began.

There they were, standing together with their fingers intertwined. The snow was beginning to fall as they shared a lingering kiss. Eliza’s dark lashes were dusted with white as she leaned against him. She had been laughing when he dropped to his knee and startled her into silence with a small velvet box.

They lay on their backs under an alien sky, Eliza resting her head against his chest. Crispin pointed out constellations that no human had ever named before, tracing dreams in the night above.

They sat at a café in Paris, half-finished pastries and cooling coffee on the table between them. Eliza ran her foot across his, blushing as she did.

They cried together in an empty room, Eliza slumped on the floor and Crispin leaning on the crib that would never be filled.

As suddenly as it had begun, the ecstasy ended. Crispin’s head cleared and he managed to stand. A bottle of water stood on the table. When he stumbled while reaching for it, Eliza’s hand caught him and pulled him upright. She waited patiently while he finished the water, only posing her question after the last drop was gone.

“So… How was it?”

“Different,” he replied. “I saw a lot of possible futures, Eliza, and only one thing was certain in any of them.”

She tapped her forefingers together, looking away. “W…was it…”

“It was you, Elly. You were there by my side, in every one of my visions.”

She smiled, pulling him into a hug. “Then let’s go home.”

Eternity

“Eternity”

 

For the briefest of eternities,
I am lost in dream, open meadows
The likes of which I’ve never known
In the Waking lie before me, green
And lush and full of new lives.
But I blink into wakefulness
And the dream is gone, naught but
A fleeting memory captured
In a poem.