My
Writing
"Here at
our revels, some of us gavotte, other minuet, others lurch
and spin and jig. There is no order here, no
pattern, no...custom."
- Neil Gaiman, "The Kindly Ones"
My word!
No, no, no, it's nothing to do with
you!
After all, visitors to the mistress's creative
space are always welcome.
As long as you know how to dance
between her words.
(I must admit, I like a good
gavotte myself)
No, the reason I was surprised was
the stacks.
They've started to sort themselves!
No longer piled in
precarious...well, piles, they've started to arrange
themselves back on the shelves!
In alphabetical order too!
Well I never!
Still, that doesn't mean they've
totally put themselves away, and there are still a few stacks
which you should...
(CRASH!)
Oh dear.
Oh well. I'm sure the mistress will sort
all that out, although if you hear her screaming, don't worry
about it.
Psychic shock isn't as hard to
recover from as she might claim.
Me, smiling? I'm not smiling, I'm
just...
Stretching my lips.
It is said that some of these books
come from the library of Dream himself. I cannot comment on
that myself, but I always thought that Dream's library only
held works that had never been written, except in dreams.
And all works here were written in
a conscious state.
Although the mistress is a bit
doubtful whether that can be said of A
Strange Encounter. Does a three hour burst of
inspiration count as consciousness? Who am I to say. Still,
all things must begin somewhere and this is where she feels her work truely
started.
Although I believe that it started
sometime before that, but who am I to say?
Oh, I see you are admiring the
wolves' heads adorning the walls.
No they most certainly are not
stuffed and mounted!
(The
very idea!)
So
what are they then?
Ah...that's
something you'd have to ask the mistress. It's
really not my place to say.
Although I do believe they arrived
at the same time as Harry and the Wolves. I remember this period
well as this was during the time when the mistress was
experimenting with different styles and genres. Maybe they're
there as an entertaining reminder of one of the roads she didn't travel down.
(And there are precious few of
those)
Yes, I agree the tunnels are a bit
of an odd feature, but there is a reason for that. Not all of
the mistress's work is
kept in this happy little space. Some are put in other
spaces, although those two are equally happy.
Or so I am told.
Death Came for Me in a
Glass is a piece the mistress wrote
based on a mood. It's influenced by Neil Gaiman's 'Sandman'
but is more inspired by her own views of love, loss
life and death.
(Personally I always go with a dry
sherry myself)
Oh,
and I have been asked by the mistress to warn
you that said story contains scenes of an adult nature and
should not be read by anyone under the age of 18.
I am
reliably informed that True
Confesssions originally had the mistress in
hysterics, although it is not at all humerous, stemming as it
does from the notion of the police hiring an author to
creatively write their prisoners' (false) confessions. And
it's more science-fiction than it sounds.
Before we move on, I think it's
only fair to pass on the same wise advice that my dear old
mother once gave to me: that Telling Tales Out Of
School is sure to lead to trouble, as
illustrated by this example of the early life of the vampire,
Jane Simmons. The mistress has asked
me to point out thought that Ms Simmons was originally a
character from a White Wolf roleplaying game 'Vampire: the
Masquerade' and all such items mentioned within the story
that relate to said system (such as clan names etc) are
copyright White Wolf Studios.
And the age limit of 18 or older
also applies as there are once again scenes of an adult
nature.
(Really, young women these days!
When I was a girl...)
I must admit, the mistress's book
collection is slightly too esoteric for my taste but I've
heard tell that it can answer some very useful questions,
such as Whatever happened to Maxi Malice?
Personally I couldn't care less but it seemed important at
the time to Mr O'Donohugh...
Young people, young people, young
people!
Really, I wonder sometimes why
I bother to keep going!
I mean, in my day,
True Love was nothing
like it seems to be for these two!
(It almost makes me want to simply
give up bathing in the blood of young virgin girls and let
time finally catch up with me!)
Umm...
You didn't hear that last bit, did
you?
Oh good!
Yes,
I'm not sure either what a train station platform is doing
there.
The mistress tells me
it arrived there as a result of a cross-dimensional rip and
she's never got round to fixing the tear.
Of course I was shocked when I
heard this and told her straight that cross-dimensional rifts
can cause some very bizarre sights indeed, but she just
laughed and said that she had already seen enough strange
sights at train stations to last her a lifetime.
Such
as a group of people Smoking Skunk on Kings
Cross Thameslink Station at 7'o'clock in the morning.
At
least, she thinks that's what they were
doing. She was too tired from her weekend at the Edinburugh
Festival to really notice and can't say she ever saw anyone
light up, although there were plenty of Rizlas being played
with.
I
just smiled and nodded at this, which is always the best
response when the mistress gets a
bit...you know.
In fact I sometimes suspect that the mistress is
getting slightly strange in her old age (all 23 years of it).
Last week she told me that Hiding
in Plain Sight is often a very good way of going
undetected by anyone.
Which of course I knew already.
I mean, no one would suspect that
the Bloody Countessa would stoop to the level of being a mere
guide which is why this position is such a go...
Ah.
Forgive me, I'm tending to ramble a
bit these days.
Oh, there is one final curiosity
here.
It's an attempt by the mistress to
perform a multi-media poem.
It doesn't really work, and
poetically it's not much, but the mistress likes to keep it here for
artistic reasons.
(Translation: she's too lazy to
remove it)
So for the experience, just click
on the link, wait for the music to start and then read the
poem in time to the music.
The poem is called Choose...
Well, that's all there is.
The mistress is intending to put
another work up via Raven Wolf but only when she finds the time, which she doubts will be any time soon.
Still such is life. One moment you're tucked away safely in a
corner of the Dark, the next you're standing in an oasis
between a female mystic and a vampire slayer!
(Still,
at least she respected my stance on her fan-fiction)
And
anyway, both young ladies are quite charming.
Sadly
though I need a virgin for the thing to work properly, as
sure as my name is Elizabeth Bathory.
So
why not click on the logo below and hurry back to the main
page to get me one, hmm?
There's
a good visitor.
