What's up at Ravens March.

Vintage pens-Handmade books-Silly statements

Posts Tagged ‘Sailor’

Posted by Dirck on 10 October, 2019

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 7 October
  • 8 October
  • 9 October
  • 10 October
  • I’ve got a comfortable buffer, hoorah.

 

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Posted by Dirck on 3 October, 2019

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 30 September
  • 1 October
  • 2 October
  • 3 October
  • Three stories… so far.

As I explain over there, I’m squandering my writing time this month on a misappropriation of Inktober– the eagle-eyed here will have seen the notices advancing down the left-hand sidebar. Daily stories, all month long! EVEN WEEKENDS!

And I got so busy at that, I am rather late posting this.

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The Big Day is Upon Us!

Posted by Dirck on 20 September, 2019

For those who care about such things, I’ll be liberally plastering my Instagram account (mostly stuff I cooked, some cats, surprisingly few pens) with the Pelikan Hub as it unfolds, although I’ll likely also do an after-action report on Monday here so people who dislike that particular avenue of social media don’t have to deal with it.

I don’t recall if I showed that one before. I don’t think I did, because surely if I had I’d remember pondering the wisdom of leading with “The clip looks like a bird’s face! COOL, HUH?!” I mean, I like it, but it’s well down my own list of reasons for liking the brand.

Today’s beaky pen: Pelikan 140
Today’s ink: Jentle blue-black

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Stealing Someone Else’s Work

Posted by Dirck on 16 August, 2019

“The same thing we do every Friday, Pinky!”

I don’t have much clever in me today, and I have to save what I have for a writers’ group this evening, so in the spirit of what this blog used to be, here’s someone thinking very hard about a pen:

It looks jolly nice, so the complaint about its function is disappointing.

(He looks toward the tools of point manipulation, and tries to suppress an all too familiar urge. “Why not get one and see for yourself?” says a voice without source. “You can… amend… the performance.”)

Vade retro, you. I’ve spent this quarter’s pen budget already, and most of the next two, because I couldn’t resist a rocket-pen.

Today’s pen, once wrong and now put right: Waterman Citation
Today’s ink, ever a delight: Jentle blue-black

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Posted by Dirck on 20 June, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 17 June
  • 18 June
  • 19 June
  • 20 June
  • Second draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead”.
  • Third Draft of “Fourteen Nights of Day”.
  • Third Draft of “A Doting Mother Cradles Her Wayward Child”.
  • Second draft of “Feel My Pain”.
  • 667 typed words.
  • Surprisingly, little more than typo corrections.
  • Ditto.
  • 1766 typed words.

Good heavens, I’m actually finishing some of the things I started. [CHORUS: It’s about time!]

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Posted by Dirck on 13 June, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 10 June
  • 11 June
  • 12 June
  • 13 June
  • First draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead.”
  • Second draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead”.
  • 2 manuscript pages.
  • 2152 typed words.

Where, oh where, that huge speed of a couple of weeks ago? Well, it’s probably being absorbed by long stretched of pensive sitting. Sometimes the second draft differs from the first only in tiny matters of a word here, a phrase moved a little. This time, there’s a wholesale transformation; ensemble piece down to a single player, vast adjustments in the emphases in descriptions, and a shift of overall tone from BOYS ADVENTURE to quiet elegy (that’s possibly a little too grand, but I’ll leave it to make myself feel like an artist). So, yeah, pensive sitting. The slow turning of the creative millstones. There’s no set deadline on this one, so that’s just fine.

Edit: I have no idea how I managed to get the dates of the week two weeks ahead, as they were before this edit. Wishful desire for my summer break, probably.

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Posted by Dirck on 6 June, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 3 June
  • 4 June
  • 5 June
  • 6 June
  • First draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead.”
  • Second draft of “Fourteen Nights of Day” (a working title).
  • Third draft of “Tiger on My Back”.
  • 6 manuscript pages.
  • -812 typed words.
  • Complete and submitted instantly.

There is a negative number in the progress this week. I wrapped up the story, and found it was over the word limit given out by the target anthology’s call for submissions. So, last week’s remarkable output proves to have been a bit of a foot-shoot.

I am, alas, not surprised by this development. But it’s done now, two words under the limit, and ready for examination by my patient readers.

Those who actually follow these updates will be shocked at how long I left “Tiger on My Back” sitting in a commented-upon-yet-unedited state. Well, I started some other stuff, then found the call “Fourteen Nights” responds to… and having thumbed through it when the last reader finished I figured the gratifyingly few issues they found were low priority. Until I found another call for submissions yesterday, seeking WW2-related stories. I’m susceptible to magical thinking, and submitting today of all days with that as the criteria was irresistible.

And for those who are feeling clever– yes, indeed, it is that kind of Tiger.

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Posted by Dirck on 30 May, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 27 May
  • 28 May
  • 29 May
  • 30 May
  • First draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead.”
  • Second draft of “Fourteen Nights of Day” (a working title).
  • 6 manuscript pages.
  • 4247 typed words.

I don’t know about you folks, but I’m stunned at this week’s output. When did I learn to type that fast while making use of my creative faculties?

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Posted by Dirck on 23 May, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 20 May
  • 21 May
  • 22 May
  • 23 May
  • First draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead.”
  • Second draft of “Fourteen Nights of Day” (a working title).
  • Staring bleakly at a balance sheet
  • 7 manuscript pages.
  • 2413 typed words
  • Several tugs at the collar.

Good heavens! I managed to get some writing done on a long weekend! This gets balanced out by having to take today off to visit my bank, because like everyone else making less than a quarter-million a year, I’m getting killed by the difference between cost of living increases and raises of salary, so things need to be done. On an utterly unrelated point, have I mentioned that I accept donations?

Despite the current financial worries, I appear to be able to afford a robot to hit the “publish” button for this thing. I’m not even looking at it! Oh, what a dizzying age we live in!

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Includes Small Healthcare Excursion

Posted by Dirck on 16 May, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 13 May
  • 14 May
  • 15 May
  • 16 May
  • First draft of “Fourteen Nights of Day” (a working title).
  • 13 manuscript pages.

That’s not much for the week, especially considering I imported some work from Sunday into this week’s total. So, what’s up?

Gall stones!

Not my own, for which I am grateful, but my wife. I’m hoping this is a purely matrilineal thing (her mother and sister have had similar problems) and that our son remains untouched by it, because she was not having fun when I came home from work on Monday. So little, in fact, that Tuesday morning saw me installing her at the ER, and I was 100% of the household childcare staff for Tuesday and Wednesday. She’s home now, having been shaken free of the blockage of the moment by the modern miracle of ultrasonics, although we’re told the offending organ will have to be removed… probably in the next couple of weeks.

Anyway, without preparation (and the whole time was very much a lack of information exercise; the ER is a bit of a black box) I was unable to get any writing done. Thus, little accomplished. The draft is complete, which is good, since the anthology I aim to submit it to closes in July… unless they fill all their slots before then.

As a data point to my American readers, let me tell you what this week’s entertainment costs were. The entertainment consisted of:

  • Admission to the ER;
  • 36 hours of IV fluids, because surgery might have happened at any time;
  • as much morphine as someone without previous tolerance to stand (apparently gall stones really hurt);
  • ultrasound imagining to get a firm idea of what the problem really was;
  • the ultrasonic treatment;
  • three consultations with doctors;
  • loads of interactions with nurses;
  • the use of hospital linens.

The total cost of this was One Canadian Dollar, paid to park in the lot not devoted to ER patients when I was picking her up. I could, conceivably, not have paid that, but I didn’t want to plug up a parking space close to the door which someone with a box full of severed fingers might need. I’m considerate that way. You might also say “Oh, but you pay so much tax there,” to which I reply– I got a refund on my income tax because our household doesn’t bring in a lot. And were we entirely without income and thus paying no tax, we’d still have got that very same level of treatment. I’d just have trouble coming up with the dollar. This is why the resistance of the US to socialized medicine is such a point of amazement to so many outside that country.

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