This was the way I imagined Sirius when I first started writing him almost a decade ago:
My heart was racing as I posted it. This was how I used to feel, my fingers numb, my heart racing as I uploaded the chapter to FF.net. I would feel the tingle of anticipation and the eagerness to know what my readers thought. I’m that nervous right now and that worried and convinced that I’m terrible and even though I spent four days to make sure I written something of quality, I still worry that I will be hated or called names… which, frankly, was really heart breaking. I wanted this chapter to be good and I took my time with it and I’m still writing the rest. I had promised myself I would not write the crazy long chapters as I had with The Ever Secret Diary of Sirius Black and so I decided to stop when I’d hit 10 pages in Word. I thought that I was being selfish waiting until I’d finished the engagement party scene. I thought, "No!, Amalynne, share it now. Share the 10 pages, you owe them that." I owe them all, especially that one person, however horrible and lovely they may be (girl, you called me a bleeding bitch once and I haven’t forgotten that). Wattpad and FF.net have been updated with the famed tale: http://www.wattpad.com/user/AmalynneO and https://www.fanfiction.net/~amalynneolivier. I'm sure I'll have snarkier things to say throughout the week, but frankly, I'm exhausted. I'm all tingly still and close to an epic hurl. I might mind cleanse with some John Stewart or something, I don't know. It needs to be mind flushing.
This was the way I imagined Sirius when I first started writing him almost a decade ago:
My students are back to school this week and my agent has come back with the green light. God, it's been the rockiest road the last three years. Waiting and waiting and FINALLY things are happening. I just might write some Raven Cycle fanfiction to celebrate, just maybe. Yes, yes, I think I will, before Maggie publishes the book in September and flips the plot on me. This is a piece I call Chain, intended to follow book 2 of the Raven Cycle, The Dream Thieves. It's rated PG-13 because I roll that way and I don't seem to have a filter (blame my sheltered Judeo-Christian upbringing). Please refer to my wattpad account for my latest fanfic, Chain: http://www.wattpad.com/user/AmalynneO
In other news, I have gone red, spectacled and voluminous. I have also fallen in love with Guardians of the Galaxy, but I knew I would. Please review, Chain, it's a lazy catastrophe but maybe you'll like the concept.
P.S. Play the Guardians of the Galaxy theme when you brush your teeth in the morning, you'll feel so badass, I promise.
Working by the pool today, basking in the sunshine and the fantabulous tunes of Guardians of the Galaxy, my new favorite Marvel movie :D Made some tabouli and pitawhiches along with some fancy juice (rum and pineapple OJ) and have been enjoying the breeze... my life is fabulous, not to rub it in, but sometimes I really think so ;)
The gods offer no rewards for intellect. There was never one yet that showed any interest in it.
-- Mark Twain, Notebook
It's taken a long to get here... hopefully, dear reader, it doesn't take as long for you. I usually don't talk about this kind of thing in my blog, but as a humanist, I care deeply for the happiness and mental freedom of my readers.
Below is a video about early indoctrination, something I suffered from as a child and teen, maybe you can relate...
Wattpad has been buzzing, I've been called names--mean ones, actually, by my readers across not one but three forums, so I suppose it's time to address Sirius... because I'm very sensitive and I can't stand not to be anything short of loved... Fuck, I'm an egoist.
So, to assuage fears that Sirius will not return I am sharing with you a preview--brief as it may be--that the future does hold Sirius...
The Not-So Secret Diary of Sirius Black
Ch 2: Leaky Problems
What James knew about impressing women he had learned from stolen copies of Playboy from his younger uncle’s stash on summer vacations in Bath. He’d scoured the pages, reading artfully worded snippets about how to seduce women, how to “build your black book”—which often reminded him dreadfully of Sirius, and how to effectively “Peacock.” This term he’d taken to heart most ardently, rather reveling in the messiness of his wayward black hair and a sense of humor that was louder than a dragon’s snore. Playboy had failed James Potter miserably as it concerned Lily Evans.
The past year’s events, however, while dissolving his hopes in gentleman’s monthly publications, had somehow landed him next to Evans… on London streets, hand-in-hand, with cappuccinos. And he didn’t even like cappuccinos. He had done this by the remarkable feat of being himself, admitting he liked the crooning beats of Wham!, and having a mother that had baked her way right into Evan's heart. It all seemed so perfect, but James could still hear Sirius’ words, an echo and an itch in his ears, she’s just taking the piss at you. If she were in fact taking the piss at him, James thought, it was altogether elaborate, considering the time spent snogging breathlessly in the back of an empty London bus. Now it wasn't about impressing Evans, that could easily be done in dim light, but about impressing the doubters, the Sirius Blacks in the world.
It was probably a bad idea, but he was taking her into the Leaky Cauldron today, partially because it was dodgy and rustic but mostly because Sirius was there and he wanted to rub it snarkily in his mate’s face.
There, I have set the scene for Ch2 and I won't share anymore. I have Tuesday off so I'll be able to finish and post it then. Readers, if you have any ideas or preferences, now is the time to voice them.
And while you're here, get some Wham! in your system, it's so flamboyantly eighties, you really owe it to yourself to be infected...
Posting to cheekily share the early anniversary present my boy friend of five years left on my desk this morning... it's to die for adorable and makes me feel so Ian Flemming, so JD Salinger, a heavy rain on the keys with a satisfying "ding" every fabulous line. I love it!
I have also discovered--late I might add--the Allah-Las. Their sound is so beachy, groovy California with a hint of 60s. Obsessed. So now I have a 60s typewriter, a light blue (don't let your children come near my killer blades) 60s Eskimo fan, and a sound to match it. Summer is starting well.
Work is light and it's time to write. Kiss kiss, stay cool!
So, because this is my day off I'm updating like crazy, and one of my biggest updates is that I'm moving and the space is prettier and bigger than ever! The biggest epic development is the fact that I'm getting an office in my apt that will be--wait for it--TAX DEDUCTIBLE!! Totally psyched. So I'm planning my office and this is what I have in mind...
And yes, that red chair needs to be there. I'm very inspired by this style. It's clean and feminine but not the kind of room that's going to make my boy friend squeal to be in... which he will rarely be because, this is my lair, bitches.
So Amalynne is getting an office and has been spending far too much time at Ethan Allen *head desk*... how am still going to Jamaica this summer? GAH! I will take pictures once we paint and I have "the lair" complete :D
Latest renderings sent from the creative group in charge of things I will never control (such as cover and promotional art and things they really should listen to me about). I was sent a couple character digital art pieces but this one was the closest...while simultaneously being the furthest from my imagination. It's just like being a mother strolling the mall, passing Abercrombie and Fitch and seeing your son in an larger than life androgynous shirtless ad plastered in the window. Um, yeah... awkward.
Dear target market (ladies 15 to 25) what do you think of the art I've been sent? Feedback would be helpful. If you're wondering about the tone of the novel in question just reference posts with The Company tag or read the ad copy I was sent by the marketing team...
There were seven, and Langdon always pictured them lounging in shadows like lazy kings, two at the center of the fray with wilder, hungrier eyes, battling for the final say. Unhinged, nameless, unattached, they ruled from the alleys and smoke-filled drug dens, controlling the pulse of pleasure. And so, the very heartbeat of Nysius was run by teenage tycoons reveling in the shadows of the Eastern temple and smirking at the sins of the clergy. This was the Company, and even Langdon didn’t really know them, but goddess almighty, he wanted to be them.
What I think--sardonically, I might add--about the art I have been given:
I, Amalynne, have had an interesting few months. Chaos and creativity have taken me from East to West Coast, to the highest point in my life and the lowest, and somehow, I'm left feeling miraculous, successful and more empowered than ever. I know vagaries don't do anything for you, but I just had to get that out... because I've been gone and I'm back... and I hope for a while.
Today is my first day off in a long, long time. I woke up last night, bolt upright, and had a panic attack about all the things I want to do in this life, while my ass is still firm, while I still get taken for a high school student, while I still use too much profanity, while I still think 40 sounds old, while college is still a pleasant echo away, while Lulu Lemon is still too expensive... though I did buy a pair of pants from them--regrettably. I made a lot of concessions this year, some big, some small. I bought a mac when I'd vowed for years not to, committed to an apartment even closer to the beach, took on more clients even though I was starting to resent them, got a trainer, and actually started going to the doctors. Big girl, this has been a big year and it's only April.
I was also diagnosed with Lupus.
I didn't realize what kind of changes this would mean for my life, most of which I cringe at, but are for the best. More conscious of my human frailty, I've started taking my health more seriously and this is just another thing I must sigh about... adulthood is so obnoxiously serious. Fuck it. Really. I'm in a stage in which I'm rebelling against my adulthood and finding myself regrettably converted--in those banal, financial areas of life. I'm still not the person you want teaching in a public school or in a government position, or even corporate, because I am fabulously free of filter and if my clients don't like it, they can just as easily find a digital marketer with the same kind of specialized portfolio and bend-over-backwards-until-your'e-happy commitment (sarcasm). This is the beauty of self-employment and the beauty of the hustle. I think of one of my favorite TedTalks, Rethinking Unpopular, by branding genius, Erika Napoletano. If you have an ample 20 minutes I recommend watching it, but if you don't Erika is merely arguing that in order to stick to your target market, your key customers, you have to be true to yourself, you have to be unpopular. You can't meet the demand of the entire market, you can't be everything to everyone. In fact, if you're small, if you're a little guy, you should be niche, you should be specialized, perfect for some, unpopular to others. My personality plays into this a lot. I believe in a reader's digest approach to life, tasks, and interactions with clients--except of course when I'm venting on my own blog. I'm a fabulous hypocrite sometimes.
Feel however you may, but I'm not suited to deal with bullshit and I've tried corporate, laughed in its face and surprised myself by conquering on my own in the last two years. Everyone is different and I don't feel the need to explain it to my peers to seek their approval anymore. I used to try to say that I had issues with corporate ethics, that you were just a number, that opportunities for advancement in this economy are meager... but that's not really the truth, as far as I was concerned.
I hated being told what to do by people that I didn't respect. I hated making decisions I knew were wrong because someone with a higher pay-grade told me to.
I hated it so much I used to come home and cry. I wasn't going to tell my old college friends this, and I don't need to. I don't need to, because the hustle is enough for me now, the next job and the next, the game of planning, the game of landing that bigger, better job. I used to wait tables and there was something addicting about that kind of hustle. Freelancing is a different kind of hustle, it's a lot less of one job description and all lot more of many, it's being a writer, a consultant, a teacher, an artist, a programer, a researcher, all in the areas of marketing for small business...bigger businesses, even bigger business, and ultimately big business.
But... I, in all this discovery, find myself void of the time needed to follow my first passion, and that is writing. Today I've taken about thirty minute to shower you with my feelings because I just.really.need.to. Camping out at my absolute favorite coffee shop in my little beachside community, JC Beans, I sit with my headphones wedged in snuggly, listening to the chill, steely beats of Tame Impala, ready to fix what need be fixed, edit what need be edited, so I don't put my dreams on hold any longer--or send my publisher over the edge with impatience. [Now that was a run-on sentence!!]
ALSO! I've noticed lately that my oldest of old fan fiction, The Ever Secret Diary of Sirius Black, has been getting some serious action on Wattpad. This year marked the ten year anniversary of this very old, very beloved fan fiction and it is STILL, to this day, getting so much love. I want to thank my loyal fan-ficianados over the years for your readership, you are tirelessly fabulous! Also, I have been writing some new fan fiction for my current obsession, The Raven Cycle, by the talented Maggie Stiefvater. I'll be posting it to my tumblr eventually or any of the appropriate fan fiction mediums out there today. Tumblr and Wattpad kind of seem the hubs for that sort of thing.
So, with that long-winded update, I shall leave you with my current, lumbering obsession:
I like crazy print pants, Thai food, making up words, and living in the worlds in my head. I also write on occasion.