sunday special: a sprawling place 2018 draft 1

Well folks, here’s the entirety of A Sprawling Place composed in 2018, laid out in a pretty little 6×9 booklet.

It’s 42 pages, around 11,000 words, and entirely unedited. It was written between August and December.

I did this to back up the stories. Due to my own foolishness, I deleted the masters, so the only extant versions lived on WordPress. In any case, I copied it down so I have an archive myself again. Then it was a simple matter to do the most basic layout imaginable.

I think I’ll return to read and edit this properly someday — famous last words, I know. I make no promises, even to myself.

So if you’re interested, get your copy of A Sprawling Place, 2018, draft 1, in 6×9 PDF or 8.5×11 PDF.

Sunday Special: sorry about the new landing page

Hey folks,

All apologies for the new, more self-centred landing page of this blog.

I’m looking for paid writing work so I’m trying to play the game.

Don’t worry — even if I someday find it, this site will continue giving it away for free.

Thanks for your patience.

And if you have writing or editorial work you need done, contact me. My rates are reasonable and my desperation palpable.


sunday special: composition

Not enough of my time is spent in composition. Too much is spent in preparing that which *is* composed for online publication. I write with an ancient acer netbook which has trouble connecting to wordpress on a good day — not to mention the hoops of tags and scheduling the posts properly and so forth. So this is a rant about that, a quick blurb about why this blog has been inactive for three (!!!) months. Some more junk oughta be appearing over the next while, at least.

I’ve been super into RPGs of late — reading them, reading about them, occasionally playing them. I would like to get a standing, weekly group together for a fairly gonzo adventure, blending elements from across time and space. I’d use simple rules (ICRPG, anyone?), with a yes-and or no-but mentality, as best I could. Alas, I haven’t yet. I’m a player in two separate campaigns and my work schedule demands unfavourable hours. All the same, I’m sure I could make it happen with the right group. The downside is I want to play in person, and my friends don’t live in St James Town, for the most part. Only my best friend, and she works 60 hour weeks.

Alas and alack, the tribulations of the burgeoning nerd.

exercise: 3.1 – an admired person

N exercise 3.1 – one admired person

She’s up just after dawn and seems to thrive on little sleep. At any given time she’s working on her website, her sketchbook, her lesson planning. Her laptop is tuned to world music while she does her daily sketch, a half-hour tour of bright colour and strong shapes. When the timer’s up she’ll post the result to Insta, move onto the next thing.

Today she’s got her blog’s weekly update to prepare – she collects and collates all the work of the week and brings it into one beautiful package. She uses Illustrator and though she doesn’t know all of the tools she gets around it all right.

She writes about what she’s been reading this week, the TV shows she’s seen. A few words per piece of media captures her impressions. Her reviews are like haiku, precisely structured. She edits images and arrays them using shapes and masks. When she’s covered the week, she clicks “post.”

A few likes come in on Insta, a comment or two, to the effect of “great post” or “beautiful!” and which may or may not include emojis. The tepid response seems hardly worth the effort of the art, let alone curating it into a weekly digest. All the same, she’s on her bed, the cat curled up beside, today’s music – Scottish folk – wheeling up from her laptop, and after a brief stint on Tumblr, taking in – in flickering fragments – the work of others, she grabs her hardback sketchbook and starts into the next thing. She does 3.5 double-page spreads a day, in coloured marker. These, too, she’ll photo, share on Insta and her site.

The “number of posts” counter has increased by one – her total likes up by fifteen or maybe even twenty. She refreshes the stats, smiles, and puts her pen to paper.

Logan Bright