Update December 2011: For those of you looking at this profile to find out why I haven't been posting very much lately (and hopefully looking forward to my next story rather than dreading it ...) my health has been worse than usual, and apart from the occasional one-or-two shot, I'm probably not going to be posting much for a bit. Hopefully I can get back to the point where I can write consistently, and hopefully it won't be too long, but there's really no telling. Oh, well, tomorrow's another day. Uh, year--fingers crossed for 2012! End Update.

What Is It?

If you look to your left, you will see a picture of a rather odd-looking creature. It is called, and I swear I am not making this up, a Striped Pyjama Squid. Yes, it is. No, really, it is.

LJ Page: http:///

Reviews:

I need reviews. Without reviews, I have no idea a) if any of the people this site tells me read the story actually liked it, or b) what I can do to improve it if they didn't. I don't mind critical reviews. In fact, I need someone to kick my butt about problems with my writing.

Fun Facts About Kadath:

I chose the name from a Lovecraft novel, partly because EVERY SINGLE OTHER INTERESTING NAME EVER was already taken. And partly because I'm a perfectionist with anxiety problems, and I like the idea of writing stories in complete anonymity. Frankly, looking at some of the stuff I've written, I've come to the conclusion that even I don't know myself very well.

No, I wasn't drinking when I wrote (insert story title of your choice). In fact, due to medical problems, I can't drink alcohol. (And I'm Irish. I can't eat potatoes either because of blood sugar problems. I know, I know, I'm an embarrassment to nature and a disgrace to my stereotype.)

I'm an aspiring writer. Okay, maybe that fact was somewhat lacking in entertainment value.

I find the word 'wombat' inherently amusing. I don't know why, I just do. Also, 'kumquat.' Expect to encounter these words frequently in my writing.

I used to think I was excruciatingly shy, but it turned out I was merely mildly autistic--which is a rather unsettling thing to discover in one's mid-twenties. Also, I have terrible ADD, and as a result can only pay attention to things that are interesting.

As a very young child, I was badly frightened by the Doctor Who episode "The Pyramids of Mars," and emotionally scarred for life.

Words to Live By:

Panic about one thing at a time.

Never trust anyone who tells you high school is the best period of your life.

Never look too closely at an oyster before you eat it. Seriously, don't.

Favorite Quotes:

"A little patience goes a long way, but too much patience goes absolutely nowhere." Doctor Who, "Full Circle"

"Chaos is always found in greatest abundance wherever order is being sought. It always defeats order, because it is better organized." Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

"I will tell you in another life, when we are both cats." Vanilla Sky

More quotes to come!

Favorite Movies (in alphabetical order): Bringing Out the Dead, Dark City, Lord of the Rings, Pan's Labyrinth. And, just recently, The Producers (remake). That has got to be one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Not much of a movie person.

Favorite Music (in alphabetical order): Dan Auerbach, The Black Keys, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, CCR, Mike Doughty, Franz Ferdinand, Billy Idol, The Kills, Metric, Moby, Nirvana, Radiohead, Chad VanGaalen, The White Stripes, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Favorite TV Shows (in alphabetical order): Babylon 5, Buffy, Doctor Who, House, Monty Python's Flying Circus, Poltergeist: the Legacy, The X Files

Book of the Month: I spend so much time reading, this is easier than putting together a list of favorites.

October, 2009--Watership Down, by Richard Adams. An epic adventure story. Many people foolishly choose not to read it because it's about rabbits. Yeah, rabbits. No, really, rabbits. Update: working on a Doctor Who crossover fic. Not sure when that'll be up. Sorry, I just couldn't help myself.

November, 2009--V for Vendetta, by Alan Moore and David Lloyd. What can I say about Alan Moore? He's brilliant. This is sort of 1984. But with a mad bomber dressed up as Guy Fawkes. Even if you've seen the movie, read the book--it's different enough to be worth it. Besides, I think it's better than the movie in many respects.

December, 2009--The Dark Tower series, by Stephen King. Apparently, he started writing this after reading The Lord of the Rings and watching The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Which should give you some idea. One of my favorite things when I was a kid. (Yes, a kid. Early teens. See, this is why I'm so messed up.)

January, 2010--Okay, very late with this--The Curse of Chalion, by Lois McMaster Bujold. I'm not sure how to describe this and do it justice. It's got a curse, obviously. And a place called Chalion. Romance, royal intrigue, black magic, madness, a few saints ... and it's a book so good my entire family could agree they liked it. Which, so far as I know, is unique.

February, 2010--The Year of Living Biblically, by A. J. Jacobs. "One man's quest to follow the Bible as literally as possible." Jacobs asks the question, why are some biblical directives taken literally while others are ignored? In other words, why do people use the Bible as an argument against homosexuality, but ignore biblical prohibitions against wearing clothing of mixed fibers? Answer: there is no logical reason. Next question--what happens if you DO follow all the rules? Hilarity ensues. An extremely funny, thought-provoking, (and fairly respectful) look at religion.

March, 2010--May stop doing this monthly, as I can't seem to remember to save my life ... does anybody even read these things, anyway? The "Young Wizards" series by Diane Duane. Years before Harry Potter, there was the Wizard's Oath, talking trees, computers with legs ... even a Doctor Who reference. And a spin-off about cats. Wizard cats. I mean, does it get any better?

May, 2010--Yeah, took a month off. Apparently I need new glasses. So: Relic, by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. (Ignore the movie. I think it was made to bomb. Possibly a Producers-esque scam?) The first novel in the Pendergast series. Normally I don't go for thrillers, which hinge on suspenseful things happening to characters I usually couldn't care less about, but this is an exception. A monster stalking through a museum, an official coverup, buckets of blood, and the supremely eccentric Agent Pendergast (Mysteriously absent from the movie--see, they cut the most interesting character. It was made to fail.). Think Sherlock Holmes gatecrashes Jurassic Park. Thanks to ChellusAuglerie for getting me hooked.

July, 2010--Okay, another month off ... really must get my blood sugar sorted out. Anyway, C. S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia. Children's books the way they were meant to be written. Actually, if only more books for adults were this well written ... I think I first started reading these around the age of eight, and I still love them. Wit, whimsy, and a wild streak one seldom encounters anywhere. Probably also some of the few fantasy novels written by a professor of medieval literature, mixing characters and ideas from the modern world with those that seem to genuinely come from a bygone age. Good, evil, talking animals, addictive candy, mad magicians, portals to other worlds, swashbuckling mice ... need I go on? And how can you say no to a novel that starts with the line, "There was a boy named Eustace Clarence Scrub, and he very nearly deserved it."?

About my Fanfiction: I have serious difficulty writing anything short. I tend to generate series. Right now I'm working on a Doctor Who post-"Journey's End" series about BlueSuit and Rose, and an X Files series set in a dark, dystopian alternate universe. And a Doctor Who/Watership Down crossover, the idea for which popped into my head from people commenting on my Book of the Month selection. I just need to flesh out the villain and find the other half of the plot. No, the crossover's not a series. Unless I write a sequel with House ... no, no, someone stop me!

I will shamelessly blackmail readers by refusing to add chapters until I get a reasonable number of reviews. All (good) reviews will be saved and reread on days when my Zoloft isn't working. Or when I want to go on an ego trip.

The Other Egg of the Phoenix Series:

This is my Doctor Who series about 10.5 and Rose. The title comes from a reference in Neil Gaiman's Sandman: Fables and Reflections, which you need no knowledge of to read my stories. (But it's a very good book.) Most of the stories in my series can be read independently. I'll add a note at the beginning of the exceptions. The series will contain a variety of story types and lengths. There will be angsty bits, but I'm a firm believer in a happy ending for this couple, so it'll all work out eventually.

In Defense of Bad Writing

I’d like to say a few words in defense of bad writing. Not that I believe it should be encouraged—I’ve often read a story and wished the author’s computer would crash, or their fingers would cramp, or anything so long as they would just STOP. Or at the very least, run the damned spell-checker … And of course, I like to think I’ve never done it myself. (But then, don’t we all?)

Then, a few days ago, I had the unpleasant experience of reading something that appeared to be a badly-written story, but which turned out to be a hoax, ending in a list of tips to help people write and even read better fan-fiction.

At first, I was pretty cheesed off. Mostly because I was embarrassed that I’d read the bad fake story far enough to get to the writing tips. But then I started thinking. Why am I embarrassed? I mean, good and bad writing is highly subjective. Although the story had a lot of bad points, it had a few good points as well (which the author seemed, ironically, completely oblivious to) and I was actually enjoying some of it. And anyway, no one has the right to tell me what I ought to read. So why was I frantically trying to come up with excuses for why I’d read it?

It was at that point that I realized my entire life was a mass of shallow, pretentious lies. Lies, lies, lies.

You can educate people into saying they like certain kinds of story. You can even educate them into lying to themselves about what they like. But even if you could educate them into enjoying it—what gives anyone the right to do that? And if you have to be trained to like something, was it ever any good to begin with?

I’m going to print out the fake story and keep it with me, as a reminder. I’ll take it out and re-read it whenever I’m tempted to feel morally superior to anyone less talented than myself. And a reminder that I will never completely understand any human being, especially myself. None of us ever do. We always have something more to learn, and I find that comforting.

Even the bad writers have something to teach us. The hoaxer said the fake story was just a mass of clichés, but they were what made it fun. Maybe that’s the up-side of bad writers. They haven’t been educated into thinking certain ideas are good or bad. They’re innocent that way. They want to write a story, and they do, and they don’t think about what they’re supposed to want, or what people will think, or how many times it’s been done before. How many of us can say the same? And how many of us have gotten so messed up we don’t even know what we want, or what we feel, or what the truth is?

Maybe the bad writers are better than I am, in that respect. They’re not living the lie.

I don’t read much literary fiction. The reason for this is simple. It tends to be utterly depressing in a doomed attempt at “realism,” it makes people smaller than they are, and much of it seems to be written by the sort of people who think that they should frown because it looks more serious than frowning and insult people because it’s hipper than being kind. People who think that happy endings are impossible, and we shouldn’t bother trying.

The truth is, sometimes clichés are good. Sometimes they’re overused because they’re so true, or because they speak to some fundamental human need.

I don’t want to live a lie anymore. I don’t want to make myself less than I am. I want to think my own thoughts, feel my own feelings, run through the streets and shout that the emperor has no clothes. I want to read what I want without someone telling me to be ashamed of having bad taste.

Anyway, they used to say Shakespeare was rubbish, too.