Harumph

Thought about replacing this blog with one on Tumblr but it turns out that Windows Live Writer doesn’t support them because they use a nonstandard API. I love Live Writer, so no Tumblr for me. Don’t get me wrong I like a lot of what Tumblr has to offer; they have very clean blog pages with little self promotion (unlike Blogger) but I’ll be damned if I have to use their interface every time I want to write a post. This isn’t even saying that their interface is bad, it’s just easier for me to use a third party tool. Moral of the story is that standards are standard for a reason. If you don’t like it you should change the standard.

PSA: Breath vs Breathe

I’m no Scripps finalist myself but there are some misspellings/typos that absolutely drive me nuts. Breath/breathe is one of those.

“…can’t remember how to breath…”

You draw breath and breathe in air. That little e on the end makes all the difference.

It’s one of those typos that often happen when the writer is trying to make a scathing remark and insult the mental capacity of the target and instead makes the writer look like an idiot. The next time you are writing a screed on a forum or in the comments section of a blog do yourself a favor an make sure you remember how to spell breathe.

Next time, u and you; one of these is a letter and the other is a pronoun.

Period Piece

I’m trying my hand at writing a story set in the mid 19th century (pre Civil War). It’s inspired by a historical figure so I felt that it was important to set the story in the same era. I’m really only relying on the period to impart a certain technological level and vague political climate so it’s not relying on as much research as something more deeply historical. Still I have a nice little folder of bookmarks to look at if I need a reference.

Raymond Zephyr: Investigator for Hire

Here's a little snippet of a story I'm working on. It's sort of a Lovecraft meets Noir kind of affair. The whole thing is finished and I just have to go back and make some edits. That'll probably take more time than I would like it to.

My name’s Raymond Zephyr, I’m a freelance investigator. That means I hang my shingle outside of a basement office that were it not for the four walls would be no more than a hole in the ground. An office is just a place to keep paperwork and accept deliveries and since I don’t believe in filing and never get packages I spend most of my office hours upstairs in The King in Yellow Café. It may be a dive bar, but it’s literally and figuratively a step up from my office below.

The Machine makes all of my appointments. It’s a juddering, clanking antiquity that was billed as a mechanical replacement for a flesh and blood secretary. The thing is more than capable of doing its job but the constant hum and subtle clacking of gears combined with an eerie metallic countenance proved to be too unsettling for the general populace. I find it to be convenient since The Machine tends to scare away all but the most sincerely desperate. Time is precious and I can’t spend it chasing lost puppies and nonexistent ghosts.